Of course he would. Clay wasn’t the most adept at being on time.
It was true, Ryan’s biggest pet peeve was timeliness, followed closely by proficiency, and his agents were well aware. If someone couldn’t arrive on time or do the job to the best of their ability, he expected to know so that he could prepare accordingly.
In his line of work, these things were critical.
Especially on days like today.
Ryan spared his brother another cursory glance before he pulled up the information he needed and briefly scanned the contents once more to ensure he had everything.
“When’d you get back?” Ryan asked Clay as he searched the online folder for the picture of their client that he would use for the meeting.
“Half an hour ago. I was in the elevator when I got Kira’s text.”
“You up for this?” Ryan knew that Clay had recently completed a two-week-long assignment and likely needed to get some sleep.
“Yep,” Clay announced, not looking up from his phone.
A rumble of laughter outside the room had Ryan’s head swiveling in the direction of the door. Not that he needed to look to know whom the flirtatious bellow belonged to. The distinct intonation of Zachariah Tavoularis’s voice was something Ryan would likely never be able to ignore. Though he was doing his damnedest to on a daily basis.
A few seconds later, Z waltzed into the room, filling the doorway with his massive frame, a huge grin plastered on his too handsome face. Telling himself not to, but doing it anyway, Ryan took a moment to take Z in. From his disheveled dark hair, the black T-shirt plastered to an extremely sculpted chest, down past his narrow waist, thick thighs, and then, finally, stopping on the enormous black shitkickers Z wore.
Why he continued to torture himself, Ryan would never know, but his body hummed to life from that quick perusal. It was enough to remind him that looking at Z wasn’t conducive to business. Especially when he needed to keep his head in the game.
With a fist bump, Z acknowledged Clay. “What’s up, bro?”
“Nada. You?”
“A little of this, a lot of that.” Z smirked. “You know how it is.”
Clay grunted, dropping his feet to the floor when Z slid into the seat next to him.
Ryan could feel the curiosity in Z’s silent inspection from across the table, but he turned his attention to his computer screen.
“Afternoon,” Z finally greeted, sounding slightly more formal, although his amusement wasn’t masked, when he spoke to Ryan than when he spoke to Clay.
It wasn’t because Ryan was his boss that Z did that, though, and Ryan was well aware of that fact. They’d been working together for far too long for Z to treat Ryan any differently than he had Clay, boss or not.
No, Z wasn’t overly polite because of Ryan’s status within the company; Z merely liked to give Ryan a hard time whenever possible. That was just one of his many ways.
Instead of responding, Ryan nodded in acknowledgment.
“We waitin’ on someone else?” The deep tenor of Z’s voice rattled along every one of Ryan’s nerve endings. Again, like every time Z spoke, Ryan ignored his body’s traitorous response.
“Conner,” Ryan said simply, pushing to his feet. “We’ve got fifteen. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Unable to sit in the same room with Z for that long and pretend to be busy when he wasn’t, Ryan opted to head down to the coffee shop. It’d give him some time to gather his thoughts, and a chance to put some much-needed distance between him and the man who’d been plaguing his every thought for the last few months.
Years.
Great, now his subconscious was arguing with him.
Fine, he’d been plagued with thoughts of Z for the last few years.
Hell.
By the time Ryan returned, Conner Kogan had graced them with his presence, along with Conner’s father, Casper, the other owner of Sniper 1 Security. That meant the only one who hadn’t arrived on time was Bryce, but Ryan wasn’t going to wait on his father. He’d catch the man up on the details later.
“Thanks for gettin’ here so quickly,” Ryan told them, tapping one of the keys on his laptop to wake it up and then taking his position at the front of the room. The information reflected on his computer screen flickered to life on the wide screen behind him, and Ryan ducked out of the way.
“Desiree Dumont,” Ryan began without preamble. “Fifteen years old, five foot three inches tall, one hundred thirty pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, just completed her freshman year of high school. Her parents last saw her Wednesday morning before she left to go to a friend’s house. They expected her back for dinner, but she didn’t show. They received a text from her Wednesday afternoon letting them know she was fine. Nothing since. After dealing with the police, her parents contacted us yesterday asking for our assistance.”
“Kidnapping?” Clay inquired, his full attention on the screen, dark blue eyes narrowed.
“Yes and no,” Ryan replied, briefly tracking Bryce’s casual movements as his father joined them and proceeded to take one of the seats beside Casper. “It appears Desiree was with her nineteen-year-old boyfriend, Bill Hendricks, a two-bit drug dealer—specializing in Ecstasy—who she’s been dating for over a year. I got the information on the boyfriend from the dad, including the license number of the kid’s car. I checked with Detective Jacobs; he said they found the car in a ditch on Wednesday night.” Ryan sighed at the same time Conner growled. “The boy was in it. Fatal gunshot wound to the head.”
“Does the girl know?” Conner asked.
“Don’t know for sure. Not sure how she could’ve missed it, though,” Ryan told him truthfully. They didn’t even know whether the girl was still alive, but on a positive note, according to his source, the last time she’d been seen, she’d been a little worse for wear but still breathing. “I did some recon yesterday, talked to a couple of my sources in the area where Desiree and Bill’d last been seen. Looks like an internal issue with a local gang. The boyfriend was killed for sampling the merchandise rather than selling it. Owed a couple grand. The guys who took him out grabbed the girl with the plans to ask for a ransom as a way to recoup their costs.”
“Did they?” Z queried, his steady gaze scanning the picture of the young girl on the screen behind Ryan before sliding back to Ryan’s face.
“Not yet, according to the parents. My source—she’s reliable only because these guys jilted her on her last visit to them—told me they’re holding the girl for now.”
“Your source? Hooker?” Conner inquired.
Ryan nodded. “I’ve got the address of the house Desiree’s bein’ kept at. Based on the information, there’ll be three males there tonight. All armed, though more than likely high after dark. I want us to go in and get her out.”
Clay spoke up. “Tonight?”
“As soon as the sun goes down.”
Clay, Conner, and Z nodded, all eyes focused on Ryan.
“Clay, you’re the driver, so you get the van. Conner and Z, meet us here at eight thirty. We’ll get in, get her out, and then we’ll call it in. The cops can clean up the mess.”
“Why not let the police handle the extraction?” Casper asked.
Ryan had expected the question. It wasn’t that Casper thought getting the cops involved was necessarily a good idea, but the older man preferred asking questions to ensure Ryan had thought the situation all the way through.
“I don’t want these assholes alerted that anyone’s coming. We’ve got a better shot of getting her out without the cops.”
Casper nodded. No one else said anything, but the sound of papers shuffling could be heard as they skimmed the information in the file.
“Y’all with me?” Ryan glanced between the five men at the table. “Questions?”
Again, nothing.
“I want a sit rep as soon as you’re outta there,” Bryce informed them, getting to his feet. “And be careful.”
A round of grunts echoed in the small space, and a minute later, Ryan was the only one in the room. He released a heavy breath and steeled himself for what was to come.