“Woof woof.”
Owen laughed.
Ian cleared his throat. “Ahem.”
Owen turned back to the group. He’d gathered everyone together in one of the two conference rooms he used when conducting business at home, wanting them all to meet Caleb, who would be staying on for the next few weeks, or at least until Owen sealed Kerr in his coffin. “I’m sorry. This is Caleb Dalton, an old friend of mine and current troubleshooter for the government.”
“That’s one way to pretty it up,” Caleb muttered with a grin. “I’m a small-arms expert, demo man, and hand-to-hand trainer working for DoD.” The Department of Defense. “We can talk vitals later.”
“Sounds good,” Reuben answered.
“Reuben Knox and his brother, Joe.” Owen pointed them out. “Tim Mallory, my right-hand man, assistant—you name it, he does it.”
“Tim.” Caleb nodded.
“Sir.”
Owen rolled his eyes. Tim and his love affair with formal authority. “This is Bev Dorset, our cook and resident wonder woman. She makes the best sticky buns you’ve ever had.”
Fifty-six years young, the woman had only recently gone gray. He respected and loved Bev. She’d been a great comfort to him and Heather throughout the years, especially during their rough period of loss. He treasured her.
Bev blushed. “Oh, now. Don’t forget my chocolate chip cookies.”
Caleb laughed.
Ian, Owen noted, didn’t look pleased. Because others had attention, or because Caleb stood so close? Owen hoped for the latter. In some ways, Ian was easy to read, yet in others, he remained an enigma. Owen skipped Ian, saving the best for last, and pointed to the petite blonde next to Bev. “Meet Dolly Hampton, our housekeeper with a capital H. Without her, this place would—”
“Go to hell in a handbasket.” Dolly winked. “My mother used to say that all the time, but working here, now I know what she meant. Nice to meet you, Caleb.” A pretty woman in her early forties, Dolly had been working as a live-in housekeeper for the past six years. He’d never had a complaint about her, though if what he suspected continued to build between her and Reuben, he might have to intervene. Reuben watched her like a hawk—when she wasn’t looking. They both acted like the other didn’t exist. Polite nods and small conversation if forced, but Owen felt the sexual tension. He didn’t oppose them dating, but things could get awkward if they didn’t get on well. And he didn’t want to lose the Knoxes or Dolly. It was hard enough to find people he could trust to live underfoot.
A glance at Reuben showed him frowning at her friendliness with Caleb.
Oh hell. Might as well accept the fact they’re going to mix it up sooner than later. Owen stifled a sigh. “And this,” he said as he waved a hand at Ian, “is Ian Ryder. Ian has been helping me track down Kerr.” He paused, not wanting to go into too much detail with the ladies present.
Dolly seemed to read his mind. “I’m back to work, then.”
Apparently, Bev too, because she smiled and said, “With more mouths to feed, I need to replan my meals.”
The ladies left, and the group waited for Ian to speak. As usual, Ian managed to shock Owen and everyone around them.
“Caleb Dalton?” he sneered. “Aren’t you that prick that benched Gavin because of a little mishap?”
Caleb’s smile vanished as if it had never been. “Ryder…Ryder. Oh right. The fuckup who nearly broke the PWP before we officially disbanded. Caught stealing from the cookie jar one time too many, eh? So who did you blow to get out of jail the first time?”
Owen watched the byplay, stunned yet titillated to see his old friend and his new lover duking it out. A glance at the others showed them equally engrossed.
“Please.” Ian snorted, seeming not at all intimidated by Caleb’s clearly larger frame and angry frown. “The government begs me to use my skills to take down the enemy; then they want to jail me for it? I blew your brother, your father, and your boyfriend to get out. That’s who.”
Caleb stared at him, the veins in his forehead prominent. “You little shit. First of all, no one asked you to steal four million from the Ops Fund. You did that all on your own.”
“Hearsay.” Ian waved him on.
“And second, ‘benching’ Gavin Caldwell was the right thing to do. The kid froze on an op and nearly killed two agents while doing so. He wasn’t ready for the big time, not then. From what I hear now, he’s doing great working for your boss. A formidable CPA, right?” Caleb asked Owen, overly polite.
Fascinating. So Caleb had trained Gavin Caldwell at some point. Jack’s accountant, Gavin, was a whiz with numbers. He’d worked for Owen with another of Jack’s people to retrieve Chronicles, the book Kerr had stolen. But Owen still couldn’t imagine the quiet, pleasant man in the field. He just didn’t seem to have the temperament for the rougher stuff. Numbers and percentages? Sure. Murder and mystery? Not so much.
Seeing that everyone was looking to him for an answer, Owen shrugged. “Right, Gavin’s a great accountant. He’s not exactly my employee, though. He works for Jack at the PowerUp! Gym.” Of which Owen remained a silent partner.
“Keiser. Another asshole.” Caleb shook his head, this time with what seemed like reluctant amusement. “You really know how to pick ’em, Owen.”
“You oversized, thickheaded dickhead.” Ian fumed and, to Owen’s surprise, moved right into Caleb’s personal space. “Jack Keiser is a better man than you could ever hope to be.”
A rush of what seemed like jealousy flooded him. Ian’s defense of his boss should have made Owen feel better that Ian had a sense of loyalty to his team. Yet Owen didn’t like the thought of Ian praising anyone but him.
You’re mine, you little thief.
Instead of having to separate the two, however, Owen watched as Caleb chuckled.
“You got that right. Jack’s a huge pain in the ass, but a great guy to have backing you up.”
Ian opened his mouth and closed it like a fish out of water. “Oh, ah, right, then.” He took a step back but kept a wary eye on Caleb, as if not sure what to think.
“If the drama is over, how about we get back to work, gentlemen?” Owen suggested.
Ian flushed. “Hey. I’m just calling it like I see it.”
Caleb shrugged. “If the little guy wants to vent, let him, Owen.”
“Little guy?”
At that, the Knox brothers and Tim cracked smiles. Owen had to cough to cover a chuckle. Ian looked incensed.
“Fine. Ian, are you done yet?” he asked in his best patronizing tone, knowing how much it irked his thief.
He could almost see the steam pouring from Ian’s ears. And Jesus, but Ian in a mad was just the hottest thing. His blue eyes practically glowed with passion, and his energy tantalized. Standing so close, their personal fields seemed to fit, overlapping and seething with wild power. Sometimes Owen felt that around others. He sensed Caleb in that way, but not with the sexual vibes pouring off Ian. Owen wanted nothing better than to take his little thief back to the bedroom and fuck him into submission. Apparently Ian caught some of that emotion, because his flush grew deeper and he glanced away.
“I’m done, boss.”
Too bad. “Great. So Caleb is on board to help me nail Kerr. If you all study the folders I’ve laid out, you’ll see exactly what we’re dealing with. Joe, Reuben, I added to what you already had. You’ll want to check that over.”
“Roger that.” Reuben nodded and took a seat at the conference table in front of a manila folder.
Joe motioned to the door. “I’ll have Reuben fill me in later. I’ve got to get back to the monitors.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” Owen nodded.