He ignored them. Sometimes Ten and Ian were like a bickering old married couple. They should get divorced, but they couldn’t quite quit each other. While they argued about the state of Ten’s facial hair, Case had to think.
Why would Mr. White be after Mia now? He’d spent months with her. According to Mia, he’d been the one to save her from multiple near misses. If he wanted to take her, why not do it when he’d been alone?
Fain’s face went hard as he looked up at Case. “I’m going to get fired. Burned more likely. Thanks a lot, Taggart. You just cost me my career. You couldn’t handle one fucking flashbang?”
Ian’s fist shot out, catching Ten square in the face. He immediately backed up. “Wait. That shouldn’t count. That was a professional punch.”
Ten snarled and held his nose. “It counts. You’re done. I’ve got witnesses.”
Ezra shook his head. “I do not get them.”
“Long story,” Case replied. And apparently one that was over until the next time Ten did something so shitty Ian punished him with random punches in the face. It had been interesting since Ian liked to save them for holidays, but had sworn to keep that last one for a special occasion.
Ten cursed and holstered his gun. “Fuck a duck. I’m sorry, Tag. I’ve never met this asshole.”
Ian stared at Fain, his weapon still ready to go. “Which begs the question why he would choose a name you did recognize.”
It would be easy for Mr. White to change records. Hell, he could have ordered Chelsea to do it for him. Chelsea was Mr. White’s asset.
If Chelsea thought he was going to hurt the team, she would break ranks no matter what the cost. She would have said something. He trusted Chelsea’s instincts. If she hadn’t warned them, she wasn’t worried about the man they’d called Ezra Fain.
Fain stared mulishly ahead, but Case wondered just how much truth the other man had told him. One particular story seemed to ring true. “Ezra was your brother, wasn’t he?”
Fain’s jaw tightened. “My half brother. He was older than me. I knew going into this particular op that I was likely being an idiot idealist. He was the most idiotic idealist I knew. He gave everything for his country. Looks like even in this he was better than me. Fine. I’m the operative known as Mr. White. I was sent down here to oversee Chelsea Weston. Believe it or not, it was a demotion of sorts. I used to be a field operative.”
Ten’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit. You’re Beckett Kent. You killed that general against orders. I should have recognized you.”
Kent’s face went tight and the man practically snarled. “There’s no proof of that, but I was relieved when the bastard was killed. No one deserved it more. He was raping his way through villages. It made me sick that I had to stay close to him. Luckily someone put a bullet through the fucker’s heart.”
Ian backed off. “I did hear about that. The Agency wanted intel from the guy. I take it they couldn’t prove you assassinated the fucker or they would have burned you.”
“A lot of people hated General Mambasi. He had many enemies. I was brought back here for my failure to protect him,” Kent replied. “I was assigned to relay messages of importance to and from the asset known as Chelsea Weston. Information that required sensitivity.”
Information no one wanted written down. “Why the job with Ferland?”
“Cover. And because I wanted to watch McKay-Taggart. I wanted in on taking down The Collective. The Agency still has that as a low priority. When I became aware that 4L Software was working with McKay-Taggart and that gossip linked the case to Mia, I had her on my radar. When she went looking for a bodyguard, I was ready and in place.”
Case was confused. “So if you were trying to get Mia, were you behind the kidnapping attempt on the plane?”
“Your brother’s slow,” Kent said to Ian. “Of course I wasn’t behind that. Nor was I behind the three other attempts, but I did manage to stop the man who is trying to take her. Mia thinks they were random street crimes. I know the truth.”
What the hell was going on? None of it made sense.
Unless the original kidnapping attempt was about more than mere ransom.
Unless Hope McDonald wasn’t working alone. She’d already proven she would send her “boys” out to rob banks for cash. Why not kidnapping? Why not lure out a ripe target? One already known to The Collective.
Fuck. It was Santos. He’d lured them out to Colombia, but he’d been aiming for Mia. “Did you know it was Santos all along? What does he really want Mia for?”
“I told you it was Santos on the phone,” Ten said, shaking his head. “Does anyone ever listen to a word I say?”