Chuck awoke to a beam of sunlight cutting across his face, which was odd because his bed was intentionally nestled into a back corner of his loft to prevent sun getting into his eyes. He heaved out a sigh of displeasure as he tried to adjust, but found his left side pinned down by a heavy warmth.
Cracking his eyes open, he found his vision filled with a mess of blonde hair on his chest, tucked up under his chin. One of his arms was wrapped around her back, holding her against him. His memory quickly came back to him as he took in the sight of Sarah, lit up with the dawn and looking like a sleeping angel. Her arm was draped across his waist, solid and warm. Every time he shifted, her fingers twitched slightly against his side. His breath caught as he moved, his entire body hyper-aware of her, the scent of vanilla, the way her hair brushed against his neck, the faint pressure of her leg curled over his.
She grunted and adjusted in her sleep from his movement, pulling herself against him tightly with an arm that was wrapped around his torso and securing him in place. Swallowing heavily, he couldn't decide if his best course of action was to try to escape quietly while she was still asleep or leave her to sleep in peace until she woke naturally.
Chuck's mind spun as he lay there, warmth and tension tangled together in the space between them. He couldn't deny how right it felt to hold her, to breathe her in, but reality slammed down on him. She wasn't the type to stick around for morning coffee, let alone build a life with. He'd been down this road before. Carina had been a force of nature too. The thrill, the rush, the undeniable attraction… followed by the realization that he couldn't keep up. Didn't want to keep up, really. Carina didn't want stability, she wanted excitement. Neither Carina nor Sarah's future would be anything like the house with the white picket fence, the dog, the kids… the red door.
The door felt like such a minute detail, but now he couldn't begin to picture his dream house without it. She was right that the house needed it. It just… fit. And that thought caused him to feel a tightness in his chest. It had to be a reaction to their forced closeness over the night, and once they had space he'd be fine again.
He needed to get up and out from under her embrace.
Chuck swallowed hard, feeling like he was attempting a military extraction rather than just slipping out of bed. Her arm was like a steel bar across his chest. He wriggled, only for her grip to tighten. He paused. Was she trapping him on purpose? Was she awake? He considered his options, a fully military extraction, or accept his fate. He paused, unsure if he should laugh or panic… maybe both.
She sighed and snuggled into his chest, her warm breath on his chest causing him to gasp in surprsie. Ok, military extraction it was. He tried to loosen her grip around him, to lift her arm and let him slide out calmly. As he closed his hand over her wrist, he felt her breathing change quite suddenly.
Holding his breath, Chuck's eyes were wide with concern expecting her reaction to be explosive. He could feel her face scrunching and she worked her eyes, and then she tilted her head to look up at him with her own fearful expression.
They stared into each other's eyes for a few quiet seconds before Sarah glanced down at his hand over her wrist. Gulping audibly, he released her wrist from his hand, and she slowly pulled back, sitting upright against the bed frame and taking furtive glances in his direction.
Chuck looked away as he ran a hand through his hair, sitting up next to her. The silence stretched thick between them as they processed how intimate their position had been just moments before.
Sarah glanced over at him as she broke the silence. "Sorry, Chuck. I must have just migrated to your warmth in my sleep." Her eyes darted to his before looking away, her lips parting as though she wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. The redness in her cheeks was subtle but unmistakable. This was the woman who was feared throughout the underworld, but right now, in this moment, she looked almost… unsure.
Chuck shook his head as he glanced back at her quickly. "No, it was probably my fault, pulling you over to me. I've always been a cuddler, it's kind of a problem. Sorry if I made things… weird… I was just trying to get out before it became an uncomfortable moment." He tried for a grin, but the truth was this felt far too right to be dismissed so easily.
A small, teasing smile spread across her lips at his words. "Felt perfectly comfortable to me." She said quietly, the teasing lilt to her voice making Chuck's throat to tighten.
Chuck's eyes darted around the room as her words sank in. He needed anything to change the subject away from his current thoughts of laying back down and pulling her in close again. "I'll go get us some breakfast!" He announced.
Jumping up to get out of bed, his legs tangled in the sheets and tripped him, bringing him down slowly and awkwardly face first into the floor, his legs still on the bed, now wrapped up and spread out over hers. His stitches pulled as his face connected with the floor, and he could feel the wound open slightly. "Ow…" he groaned.
His cheeks burned, not from the fall, but from the sharp awareness of her gaze on him. As he picked himself up, all he could think of was how much of a fool he must look like. Not only sprawled across the floor, but hopelessly distracted in her presence.
Sarah's rich laughter filled the room at the sight of him sprawled half on the bed, but cut off quickly as he stood. "Oh shit, Chuck. Your stitches."
Chuck lifted a hand to his face and could feel wetness and a sharp stinging sensation under his fingers. He jerked his hand away from the pain, his fingertips red with blood. He cursed under his breath as he walked to the bathroom, wanting to assess the damage. He could hear the sheets rustle as Sarah jumped up quickly to follow him.
It wasn't as bad as he thought it might be. It looked like one of the stitches had pulled out, and the wound was only weeping a small amount of blood. He had managed to smear blood across his cheek, and it made it look a lot worse.
Sarah grabbed his head, forcing him to look at her so she could do her own evaluation. She tugged his head down, bringing his face mere inches from her own. Concern was painted on her face as she prodded gently. "It's not too bad. Sit here." She pointed at the bathtub, and when Chuck hesitated, she pushed him firmly. "Sit."
Chuck sat as she left, returning with her purse that she pulled a small first aid kit out of. She glanced at his wound quickly before pulling out a disinfecting wipe, some gauze, and a bandage of some kind. Before he had a chance to speak, she had his head in her hands and was wiping the blood away carefully with gauze, taking a great deal of care not to pull on the wound.
Her fingers were gentle, the pads of her thumbs brushing his skin as she wiped away the blood. Every time her fingers contacted his face, a spark of warmth shot through him, making it hard to keep still. He didn't dare meet her eyes. If he did, he was sure she'd see just how rattled he was by her closeness.
"The torn stitch might scar a bit, but there's not much to be done about that. The wound was already starting to close and it's healing well." She spoke as she worked, glancing up into his eyes in brief pauses. "Infection would be the worst, and that floor could definitely infect something."
She finished wiping the blood and pulled out the disinfecting wipe and looked at him. "This might hurt a little, so don't be a baby." She warned him before pushing the wipe directly onto the cut.
Chuck winced slightly in pain and pulled away. She grabbed his jaw and held his face in place as she gave him a look of exasperation. "That's not being a baby!" Chuck insisted.
Sarah rolled her eyes as she finished wiping around the cut. She looked directly into his eyes as she held his face in place. Chuck's eyes darted to her lips, feeling a need to surge forward and kiss her. But this was not the time nor the place… nor the person… for that kind of action. His breath came quickly as her eyes flicked between his before she suddenly pulled away.
"Pretty close to being a baby." Was all she said as she opened the bandage wrapper, exposing a small butterfly bandage. "This should be enough to hold it closed as long as you don't fall on your face again."
She very carefully pinched around the wound as she placed the bandage over it, securing the area the stich had pulled from. Her touch was gentle, but firm.
"You sure you don't need a helmet for breakfast? Because I can't keep patching you up, Bartowski." Sarah teased, her eyes twinkling as she finished smoothing out the bandage. "Give me a minute to get dressed and we can go find something together. Maybe you should just stick to cereal. Fewer hazards."
As she walked out of the bathroom, Chuck's gaze followed her. His mind raced, caught between the urge to pull her back and the sensible voice warning him this was all a bad idea. And yet, all he could think about was what it might feel like if he just let himself fall.
"I only eat Lucky Charms with cartoons on Saturday mornings!" He yelled out after her.
o-o-o-o-o
The warehouse loomed ahead, it's walls streaked with rust. A younger man with long, greasy hair loitered by the entrance, but his stillness felt wrong. As Sarah waved at him, Chuck's stomach tightened. Despite his casual posture, the man wasn't on break. He was a sentinel, his eyes shard beneath unkempt hair. When his gaze flicked to Sarah, he pounded three times on the door, his movements deliberate and heavy.
The heavy steel door groaned upward just enough for Chuck to drive through. The moment they entered, it slammed down behind them. Flashes and the harsh buzz of welding torches were intermittent as the rough sound of metal clanging filled the warehouse. The overhead lighting bathed the whole space in artificial lighting as they passed workers that were unperturbed by a car rolling through.
As they rolled through the warehouse, Chuck's pulse hammered against his ribs. The thought of seeing Jack Burton, a man who might have ordered his parents' execution, was a cold weight in his chest. Every worker they passed felt like a silent threat, the flash of guns peeking from their jackets a stark reminder of the danger. He wasn't just driving into a warehouse. No, this was Jack Burton's headquarters.
Carina's hand squeezed his shoulder from her place in the backseat, and Chuck exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Her touch grounded him, a steady reminder that he wasn't alone. The tension he had been feeling with Sarah had been growing constantly without Carina as a buffer between them, and her presence settled them both. He clung to her hand for a beat longer than usual.
Carina had returned one of Chuck's star trek t-shirts she had stolen from him to use as a sleep shirt – one of the many she had 'borrowed' over the years. Though he did notice that each time she gave something back, she had a habit of expanding her collection from his favorites the next time.
Sarah fidgeted in her seat, pulling up the low-cut, bright red top she had borrowed from Carina's closet. Her leather jacket hung loose on her shoulders, her hair pinned up in a ponytail.
Her fidgeting stopped the moment the car stopped, replaced by a steely stillness. Chuck had seen this side of her before, the way her expression locked down and her posture straightened. She pulled her leather jacket tighter, like she was donning armor. The warmth they'd shared earlier was gone, replaced by the cold, calculating woman Jack Burton expected to see. She looked at him for a moment, pursing her lips, as a man stepped out of the small office space in front of them.
Jack Burton looked more like a retired banker than the head of a criminal empire. With his sharp grey suit and silver hair parted neatly, he could've talked you into a bad investment with a smile. But power radiated from his casual disposition effortlessly. He didn't need to flash a gun or raise his voice. He could destroy lives with a word.
Jack's eyes narrowed as he looked back at Chuck, the two of them sizing each other up. He nodded his head to the office, signaling them to follow before he stepped through the open door, knowing they would follow.
Sarah unbuckled her seat belt, glancing at the two of them briefly before exiting the car. Carina squeezed Chuck's shoulder one more time as she leaned forward to speak quietly to him. "It'll be ok, Curls. He's not that bad."
Chuck swallowed heavily. Jack Burton had every hallmark of the kind of man who could have ordered his parents' execution. Calm. Powerful. Untouchable. Chuck had run simulations in his mind, imagined how this meeting would go a thousand times. But now, standing at the edge of it, all those theoretical plans seemed thin and brittle.
Following the two women into the office, Chuck couldn't help but think that this could be the worst decision he had ever made. It was also the best chance he had ever had to get a sense of Jack Burton beyond the digital world he had explored.
The office smelled of stale air and ink, a mix of paper, sweat, and power. Shipping manifests cluttered the desk, and a whiteboard covered in an illegible shorthand only Jack could read loomed behind him. A paper shredder sat near the desk, its bin full. An unspoken reminder of how easily information, or people, could disappear here.
Jack Burton leaned back in his chair, calm and at ease, as if this were just another business meeting. But Chuck saw the calculation in his gaze, the way his eyes scanned him, measured him. It didn't feel like arrogance, but something else… recognition.
Chuck's pulse pounded in his ears. Did Jack know who he was? Who his parents were? Moments ticked by as Chuck felt his life sitting on the edge of a cliff.
"I don't know where you find them, Sarah, but this one looks a little worse than the last one." Jack said, his words casual but the words felt like a test. His eyes flicked over Chuck again.
Chuck stiffened, refusing to let Jack see him react. Beside him, Carina shifted, rolling her eyes, but Sarah's expression remained unreadable.
"Rumor has it," Jack continued, voice laden with skepticism. "you don't carry a gun, Chuck. How're you going to protect yourself? Or them?"
Chuck didn't miss the implication. Them. Jack was sizing him up as a liability… or a threat.
He forced a smirk. "I've found the best way to not need a gun is to not get shot at."
Jack's lips twitched. "That so?"
"You're not carrying one either." Chuck countered, lifting his chin slightly.
Jack moved slowly and deliberately, pulling out a sawed-off shotgun from a concealed location and thumping it heavily on the desk. He drummed his fingers against the barrels. "You're right I don't like carrying a gun either, difference is I'm ready to."
Sarah sighed, stepping forward. "Enough, Jack. We need to talk."
Jack's eyes snapped to her, sharp and attentive. "I take it that was you in that car chase downtown yesterday?"
Sarah looked out the office window, into the warehouse beyond. "Someone knew about the First National drop." Her voice was steady, but Chuck could feel the edge in it. "There was a crew waiting for us. Chuck got us out."
Jack's eyes darted between them, assessing, calculating, and something almost protective. Chuck couldn't quite place it, but whatever it was, there was something underneath the invisible tug of war between the two. "Are you sure we shouldn't be having this conversation alone?"
Sarah's jaw clenched. "No." A pause. "They're in this with me."
Jack's expression barely shifted, but something flickered beneath the surface. "You trust them that much?" His gaze settled on Chuck, and this time, it was pointed.
Chuck kept his face neutral, but his hands curled into fists at his sides. Jack knew something.
Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "You can never be too careful, Sarah. Either of them could be working with the feds."
Chuck didn't flinch at the accusation. But Sarah's brow furrowed, confusion creeping into her features. "You've never questioned my crew before." She said slowly. "Why now?"
Jack shook his head. "Because this is bigger than you think." His voice was quiet and controlled. "New faces mean new risks. I want to make sure everything is in order."
Sarah's eyes darkened. "The crew that came after us at First National weren't feds. I need to know who else might know about that drop, not have you second guess who I've picked."
Jack exhaled through his nose. "You've picked people who are in over their heads, Sarah. People who start asking questions." His eyes flicked to Chuck again. "And curious people don't last long in this world."
The air in the room went razor sharp. Carina's voice cut through it like steel. "Is that a threat?"
Jack only smiled, his fingers drumming on the shotgun in front of him. "Just some advice." A short pause, then with a smirk. "There's a reason some things are better left buried, Bartowski."
Chuck's breath caught in his throat. Jack knew. Maybe not everything, but enough. He had always known who Chuck was, knew his parents. Chuck forced himself to stay still, his pulse a drumbeat in his ears. Jack wasn't just testing him, he was warning him.
Sarah stepped closer, slamming her hands on Jack's desk. The sharp crack echoed in the small space. "Enough with the games, Jack" she snapped, her voice low and dangerous. "Who else knew about the drop?"
For the first time, Jack hesitated. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes. Not fear, exactly, but something close.
Jack exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "It had to be Jaakko." His voice was quiet and small, the confidence dented. "I'll deal with it."
Sarah's expression didn't change, but something in her posture shifted. A silent victory. She turned on her heel, looking at Chuck and Carina "Let's go."
She strode to the door, not giving Jack a chance to reclaim control of the conversation.
Jack said nothing as they left his office, but his stare burned into Chuck's back. The weight of it lingered long after the door shut behind them. Sarah didn't look back, her pace steady and controlled, like she expected them to follow without question.
Jack's men shifted uneasily when her eyes swept over them. They ducked behind shelves or turned away, feigning indifference. But it wasn't indifference. It was fear.
Chuck swallowed hard, resisting the urge to wipe his palms on his jeans. His head buzzed with everything Jack had said, the implications twisting in his gut.
Sarah stopped just short of the car, her gaze locking onto his. Something flickered behind the cold steel of her eyes – something raw, almost desperate. "Do you trust me?"
Chuck's breath caught. She wasn't ordering him. She was asking. He didn't hesitate. "Yeah."
Something in her posture shifted, just barely. A loosening of tension in her shoulders and a breath released. "Drive slow."
Chuck nodded, sliding into the driver's seat, but his hands were shaking. The silence in the car felt suffocating as they crept towards the warehouse exit. The guards, who had barely paid attention to them before, were watching closely now.
Hands hovered near guns, fingers twitching in anticipation.
Chuck gritted his teeth, forcing his foot to stay light on the gas. His instincts screamed at him to get the hell out. He could be gone in two seconds. But Sarah's voice rang in his head. 'Drive slow.'
A shout rang out from Jack's office, the words muffled in the large room. Chuck's heart jumped into his throat. The guard at the exit hesitated for a beat, before his hand moved off his gun to a button. The door rolled up slowly.
As the car rolled out into the sun, Chuck released his breath, not realizing he was holding it. The car back onto the road in silence.
Carina looked out the back window as the warehouse disappeared from view. She twisted to face the front, her jaw tight, her eyes burning into Sarah. "What the fuck was that, Blondie?"
Sarah's mask cracked, the fury from Jack's office rising to the surface. "How the fuck should I know, Red? Jack never questions my crew. Not even Bill, and that bastard was Shaw's mole! "
Chuck's grip tightened on the wheel. His mind was still spinning as Jack's words echoed in his mind. Like he knew something Chuck didn't.
Carina turned on him next, "And what about you, Curls? He all but accuses you of working with the feds and you just stood there? "
Chuck met her glare in the mirror. "What was I supposed to do, Ri? Throw a tantrum? You think Jack didn't want me to react? He was baiting all of us, but let's not pretend Sarah wasn't the one who took it."
Sarah's head snapped toward him, eyes flashing. "I took it because I don't have the luxury of sitting on my ass. What we're doing is dangerous enough. I don't need either of you second guessing if I have your back. I need both of you to have mine. Even when it comes to Jack." She turned her glare on Carina, silently daring her to say another word.
Carina held it for a second, then scoffed, shaking her head. "Shit, Blondie. You better hope he still trusts you."
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Sarah exhaled sharply, her anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "Drop me at my club. I have a job to plan." She sat back in her seat, her eyes still burning with barely contained fury.
o-o-o-o-o
The fading afternoon light cast long shadows over the worn pavement as Chuck pulled into the alley leading to his garage. The stench of urine and decay drifted through his open window, oddly comforting in its familiarity after the chaos of the last twenty-four hours.
He pressed on his remote, the large bay door of his shop squealed on its hinges as it started to roll up. Just inside, Chuck could see Bryce Larkin leaning casually against the car lift, idly tossing a bolt from hand to hand as he waited for Chuck to drive in.
He could leave. Close the door and drive off, pretend he hadn't seen Bryce inside. But that wasn't an option, not really. Running would just give Bryce another reason to tear down the fragile life Chuck had managed to build. And Bryce didn't need many reasons.
He bit his bottom lift as he guided his car inside, parking in his usual spot. Bryce watched silently, never moving from his spot, other than his hands, constantly moving, tossing that bolt back and forth. Chuck opened the door and stood, his gaze never leaving Bryce.
"What do you want, Bryce?" A touch of exasperation entered his voice, despite Chuck's efforts to control it.
Bryce smirked, almost looking bored as his hands stopped moving. He pushed off the lift with his back, starting to walk slowly towards Chuck's car. "Relax Chuckles. I'm here to make a deal."
"We already have a deal, Larkin. I've still got three weeks before my next payment." Chuck tried to control his breathing, forcing his posture to appear relaxed, but he knew he was failing. He had always been a little out of place in this world.
Bryce could sense his unease and began tossing the bolt between his hands again. His fingers danced the bolt between them like a cat with a toy, a predator toying with its prey. The sound of metal clinking against his rings was unnerving in the otherwise quiet space. "I've got a deal where you won't have to make another payment ever again. Poof. Gone. The debt forgiven."
Chuck rolled his eyes. He didn't know Bryce to have a penchant for the dramatic, but apparently, he was seeing a new side of him. "Well, I've already told you I won't work for you. So, if it's that you might as well just leave now."
"No, you won't work for me, but you'll work for Sarah Walker." Bryce's smirk morphed into a menacing grin. "I'll make this easy for you, Chuck. Keep working with Walker. When she succeeds, you bring me the score and we're even."
Chuck forced himself to breath slowly, every muscle in his body tense. Working for Sarah was dangerous enough, but selling her out to Bryce? That was a line he couldn't cross, no matter how much it might make sense to someone else. Chuck let out a small laugh. "No deal, Bryce." The weight of the last day hung over him, but something inside had shifted. He wasn't the same man he was yesterday.
Bryce paused in his idle tossing of the bolt and looked at Chuck, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. "She doesn't deserve your loyalty, Chuck."
Chuck let out a breath, shaking his head. "Yeah, see, that's your problem, Bryce. You think people have to deserve loyalty. But some of us don't just sell out the people we care about."
Bryce's smirk faltered. "You're in over your head and we both know it. Just one last job and you're out. No strings. Hell, I'm doing you a favor."
"I said no deal, Bryce." Chuck held his ground as Bryce started to advance on him, rolling up the sleeves on his sport coat to show the Larkin crest tattoo. Family First. Carina was his family. Was Sarah? That didn't make any sense. He had only just met her, but he knew he could never betray either of them. It would be easier to stop breathing.
Bryce stepped in close, his breath measured, his movements slow and controlled. That's what Bryce was, after all. Control. Chuck could practically hear the thoughts in his head, the way he sized him up like a chess piece he had just noticed was still on the board. "You know, Chuck. If we'd met under different circumstances, I think I might have liked you." His voice dropped, "Don't make this difficult for yourself."
Chuck straightened, his heart hammering in his chest, but something deeper kept him grounded. He wasn't going to flinch, not this time. Not anymore. Bryce had been holding this debt over him for five years, and it was only now-after just one day with Sarah-that he realized he didn't have to keep playing the same game. "You're already losing Bryce. You just don't see it yet."
The bolt slipped from Bryce's fingers. It clattered to the floor, the sharp metallic ting slicing through the silence of the garage. Chuck didn't move. Didn't flinch. He'd given Bryce enough control already. The sound might as well have been the snapping of a leash – one Bryce had kept around his throat for five years.
Bryce searched his face for the fear that should have been there. He had overplayed his hand. It might not be an idle threat, he could still follow through, but it hadn't forced compliance, and now Chuck was firmly out of his grasp. He snarled as he pulled his sleeves back down, stomping towards the exit and throwing the door open. "I want it, Chuck. And if it's not from you, then it'll be through you."
As Bryce disappeared into the street, Chuck slowly let out his breath, wondering where in the hell that courage had come from. There was not a chance he would have stood up to Bryce like that even yesterday morning.
As Chuck made his way to his small, beaten down loft, the weight of the past day pressed on him. But beneath the exhaustion, there was something new. Watching Sarah stand her ground, not just with Jack but in every move she made, had shown him something. She wasn't invincible, he had seen some of the cracks in her armor. But she still stood tall. Maybe that's what he needed. To stop running. To stop flinching.
Sarah wasn't fearless like Carina. She wasn't a monster like Bryce.
Maybe surviving this world wasn't about being fearless or becoming a monster. Maybe it was about learning how to stand firm, without becoming one.
o-o-o-o-o
Casey's informants knew nothing. Or rather, they knew everything, yet none of it made sense. One claimed that Paul Larkin was the lead and was working with Jack Burton. Another said that Daniel Shaw was eliminating his own organization to cut them out of the deal. A third said that Sarah Walker was clashing with Jack Burton and building her own organization to run the job. Every tip clashed with the last, leaving Casey with a migraine as he sifted through the contradictions.
He was about to toss his notepad across the room in frustration when his phone buzzed. Checking it, he saw an email from Detective Jones at the four-four.
'Casey, had a possible sighting of your driver. Not a robbery, but a car chase in the city yesterday matching your driver's car. No photo of the driver again, but they were just picking something up from a safety deposit box at the bank before it started. Got a photo of the ones in the bank, maybe it will help. The others were ex-military. Their records aren't just classified, they're gone. Redacted to hell and back.'
Casey's curiosity was piqued. In a case that had been stagnant for years, any change was good, even if it was as simple as not being a robbery.
He clicked the image, expecting the same vague faces he had seen a hundred times before. But this time, his eyes narrowed on the two women.
The first one hit him immediately. Sarah Walker. He had seen her image in countless surveillance photos. In her arms was a poster tube, like what Agent Sullivan had described.
But it was the second woman who caught Casey's eye, there was something familiar about her, something that tugged at his memory. Then it clicked. The same woman who'd walked into Chuck's shop when he was staking it out.
His stomach clenched. The pieces clicked together, one by one, too fast for him to stop them. The black sedan. The modifications. The redhead. The kid whose parents' case had haunted him for years. The ghost behind the wheel of every unsolved chase.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, Chuck…"
And now, Casey would have to decide how to handle it. He should be sending it straight to Sullivan. Let the feds deal with their mess. But something about the whole operation stank. Too many players in the game.
Responding to the email, he quickly typed out a message.
'Jones, thanks for the tip, this is great. Send me any information you have on the ex-military. I have a contact in DC that might be able to help if you're getting stonewalled.'
Beckman said he'd always be welcome back if he ever wanted to reenlist. She had been a Colonel in Afghanistan, and her assignments made it clear she was part of black ops. Casey had worked with her team a couple times, and the lot of them were hard, cold school killers. Worst case scenario she'd ignore him.