As the internal debate raged inside him, the muffled sound of a boat’s motor moving closer to the cabin reached him. The narrow water lane leading to the hidden cabin wasn’t one that could be accidentally taken. The safeguards set at the entrance of the tributary, the warnings placed farther up it, combined with strategically placed cables stretching across several points, the metal signs attached to them warning boaters back. It normally turned innocent curiosity seekers back.
Whoever his visitors were, they weren’t there by accident. Pulling his weapon from where he’d tucked it at the small of his back, Brogan stepped behind the huge oak growing close to the water. From here, he could identify any threat and make his way back to the cabin before the boat could reach the beach. He would have time to pull Eve out if he had to, and to ensure her protection.
As the boat came into view, clearing the fog, the trolling motor easing it through the water, Brogan grimaced in irritation. This was definitely one of those uncalled-for occurrences in his life.
At the controls was Eli. Riding in the back of the expensive bass boat was Jed, cradling an automatic rifle. Sitting cool and comfortable in the seat next to Elijah was Chatham Bromleah Doogan III, director of operations and all-around fucking bastard.
There were opinions that he and Timothy Cranston were cut from the same cloth.
That wasn’t exactly true. Cranston had a heart. He had compassion. Doogan had neither. Brogan was convinced pure ice water ran through his veins. That or oil. All good robots had to run on something.
As the boat pulled up to the small dock and Jed jumped out to secure it, Brogan stepped from behind the tree and strolled out to the boardwalk that led from the beach to the dock farther out in the water.
What the hell were they doing there cramping his day?
Doogan pulled off his dark glasses, amusement filling his dark brown eyes as a grin curled his lips.
“Dawg Mackay’s looking for his sister and he’s fit to be tied,” Doogan stated, mockery filling his gaze. “He’s a little overprotective, wouldn’t you think?”
What would Doogan know about protectiveness?
“You don’t have a sister, do you, Doogan?” Brogan asked.
Doogan shuddered, his gaze flashing in mock horror. “My parents were actually humane enough to stop with me,” he said. “So I can’t say I do.”
“It shows,” Brogan retorted.
Doogan scowled back at him. “Nevertheless, Dawg didn’t care much for Timothy’s explanation, nor mine. The fact that Dawg knew I was in Somerset still greatly concerns me. I was unaware he knew my full name.” As opposed to the codename Doogan had insisted be listed instead. The only reason Brogan, Eli, and Booker were aware of it was because they’d trained with him, drank with him, and listened to his drunken ramblings before he’d begun his climb up the federal ladder.
“It should,” Brogan assured him. “My question is, how did you find us?”
Doogan smiled complacently. “This is a political retreat, Brogan. All those nasty politicians with their young mistresses need someplace safe to hide. And someone has to make sure the place doesn’t get overcrowded. That job falls to me.”
“And if it does? Get overcrowded, that is,” Brogan asked mockingly.
Doogan shrugged. “Federal Protective Service has a houseboat stored along a nearby tributary and another cabin hidden along the lake. But overcrowding doesn’t happen if one is diligent.”
“Regular little caretaker, aren’t you?” Brogan taunted him.
Doogan tilted his head to the side. “Why do I keep seeing a real dishonorable discharge in your future?”
Brogan shrugged. “Wishful thinking maybe? Because we both know John David Bryce isn’t going to allow that.”
Doogan’s eyes flashed with rueful laughter rather than the offense Brogan had intended.
“There is that,” Doogan agreed. “It’s kind of hard to fire the director of Homeland Security’s bastard son, I would imagine.”
“Well, a few have tried.” Brogan shrugged. “I’m still here.”
“Unfortunately, unfortunately,” Doogan lamented on a sigh. “But I didn’t come up here to trade insults, as much as I do enjoy the opportunity. And neither did I come up here to warn you about Dawg. Though I would enjoy being present when he finds you.”
Brogan only snorted at the comment as he waited to see why Doogan had shown up.
Stepping from the boat, Doogan started around the small clearing. “It’s really rather pretty here,” he commented.
“Get to the point, Doogan,” Brogan growled. “I have things to do.”
Concern flashed in Doogan’s eyes for a second before the brown depths were once again icy and emotionless.