Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(25)

The fed scowled. “That wasn’t a request. You will—”

“Don’t push this,” Amy broke in, her gaze locked on her stepbrother. She caught her son’s impatient hand and anchored it against her side. “Cosky’s here as a favor to me.”

Her sigh echoed through Mac’s headset as her son resumed tugging on her shirt with his free hand.

Clay’s head swung in her direction. “What the hell? Tell me you aren’t bunkered down with these clowns. There are warrants out on all of them.”

Mac snorted. While he didn’t doubt there were warrants out on him, Zane, and Rawls, the feds had nothing on Cos. The bastard was lying through his teeth.

“Considering the evidence against them is manufactured, you’d do well to separate yourself from this mess.” Amy’s voice skated between cool and dogmatic. “When the truth comes out—and it will—someone will have to answer for the bureau’s incompetence. I’d hate for that someone to be you.”

“Let me guess, they told you they were innocent, they weren’t at the lab, and they weren’t the ones who killed those security guards.” Contempt filtered through each word.

“No. That’s not what I’m going to tell you.” Amy’s voice flattened.

Mac broke into an appreciative grin as he peered down the rutted lane leading into the bowl. He was all too familiar with that cool, flat, I’ve-had-enough-of-you tone of voice. It was a novelty to have it directed at someone else for a change.

But the humor soon faded, and that itchy sense of warning prickled again. He scanned the hill behind him. Nothing. And from Zane and Jude’s silence, they weren’t picking up on anything either.

What the f*ck? Where are the bastards?

He was rarely wrong in his predictions. And this had been a no-brainer. He scowled, that earlier unease back in full force. Maybe their adversaries had decided to tag the kids instead of crashing the rendezvous. If they had tagged the boys, they could track them back to camp and take out everyone at once. If that was the case, they were in for a hell of a disappointment.

“Momma, I’m telling you something.” Indignation swam in the youngster’s voice.

Another sigh hit his headset, and Amy settled her hand on the boy’s tousled, dark head.

“Let’s move this along,” Mac said quietly into his mic. He grunted softly in satisfaction as Amy turned away from her brother, backtracking to the plastic bags sitting on the ground.

“Mooooomma—”

“You can tell me everything in a minute, Benji. But first, I have a present for you.” She picked up one of the plastic bags, peered inside, and handed it to her eager son. “There’s a complete change of clothing in the bag—everything from shirt to shoes. Take off everything you’re wearing—that includes your underwear—and put the new clothes on.” She handed the second bag to the older boy and glanced toward the SUV. “You can change in Clay’s car.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Clay’s voice was loud enough for Mac to hear it even though he stood a good ten feet from Amy and her mic. “You think someone bugged them? Who would have gotten close enough to do that? Me? Dad? Your mom?”

Amy’s hand latched on to her youngest son’s shoulder, who was standing with his head bent as he peered into the plastic bag. She steered him toward the SUV. The older child headed over under his own steam.

“I’m not taking chances,” she said without looking back. “I was there, at the lab. I know what happened. The identification of the men who attacked us as unarmed security guards is a complete and utter fabrication. The men in question were well-trained mercenaries armed with AK-47s. They fired on us first. Which means that the entire investigation into the incident is corrupt.”

Dead silence followed that announcement. Mac studied the fed’s face through the scope and frowned. Her brother didn’t look surprised.

“You were there?” Clay repeated, staring at his sister’s back. “You weren’t on the tape.”

Something about the bastard’s expression sent a chill down Mac’s spine—there was a predatory cast to his brow and chin. Plus, he was lying. Mac was certain of it. He knew Amy had been there, so why the f*ck was he playing dumb?

“No, I wasn’t on the tape. And Mackenzie and his team did not fire first or on unarmed civilians. Which means the footage was doctored and the SEALs are being set up.” Amy opened the back door to the Expedition and lifted her son inside. “There’s something screwy going on.” She stopped talking for a moment, and her shoulders rounded. She stared into the SUV. “John”—her voice stumbled over her murdered husband’s name—“told Mackenzie that the men who kidnapped me and the boys had demanded seven of the first-class passengers in trade if John wanted to see us alive again.”

“I’m . . . Mackenzie’s . . . no evidence . . . support . . .” Clay’s reply was indistinct.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Amy turned to stare at her brother, which gave Mac a perfect view of her determined face. “Seven of the scientists from the company whose lab exploded were booked into first class on that very flight. And just a few months after the aborted hijacking, their lab is incinerated and armed mercenaries show up on their doorstep? There’s your evidence.”