“Deke’s a dead man.”

Reid Steele released the arrow, hitting the sixty-yard target dead center.

Evie stared at her brother. Had she made the biggest mistake of her life by asking for his help? “You didn’t let me finish.”

“Don’t have to. You came to me for advice. Either you’re desperate or need my skill set. Or both.”

Although he’d never provided details, she suspected her Green Beret brother knew how to kill a person a dozen different ways. Maybe even more.

“I don’t need your special skill set. But I am desperate to unravel a mystery.”

“Not buying it.” He placed another arrow in his compound bow. “You would’ve gone to the twin brainiacs for puzzle solving.”

“There’s something…tactical about this mystery.”

Lowering his bow, he said, “Now we’re talking, Squirt.”

They moved their conversation to his office in the training center. The state-of-the-art archery range contained target, field, and 3D settings to appeal to every skill level. Her brother had spent months on the design, and the final product couldn’t have turned out more perfect, even to her untrained eye.

“Have a seat.” He crashed into the depths of his leather chair. Propping his booted feet atop his desk, he picked up a pen and started rolling it, back and forth, between his thumb and forefingers. “Now that we’re cozy, spill it.”

Nerves held her mute. Not because she feared Reid’s threat to Deke’s life, but because of something deeper, more personal. Betrayal. If she divulged the details of their situation to her brother, would Deke consider it disloyal?

How did a simple desire to understand get so complicated?

“We’re not getting any prettier.” An eyebrow lift accompanied Reid’s nudge.

Such a turd.

“Before I start, I want your promise that you won’t share our conversation with anyone.”

“You got it.”

“Not even Brynne.”

The pen rolled to a stop.

“I wouldn’t ask it of you, but I already feel like I’m betraying Deke by seeking your help.”

“Brynne won’t say anything.”

“She won’t mean to do harm. But I know how this works. You’ll swear her to secrecy and she’ll swear someone she trusts to secrecy—probably Randi, who’ll share it with one other person—probably Britt. Within a week, the whole family will be in the know.”

“You got something going with this guy?”

“I hope to.” He studied her with such intensity that she started to squirm. “What?”

“Trying to figure out how much to piss you off.”

“Don’t hold back now. You never have before.”

“Stakes are higher.” He blew out a screw-it breath. “Listen, Squirt. I’m your brother. It’s my right to tell you I think the guy’s too old for you. Knowing you, you’ll do what you want. And if he makes you happy, then I won’t kill him.”

“Older, yes. But hardly crone material.” She smiled. “Look at it this way. He’s already worked through the pitfalls of his twenties and he’s settled into a career.” Her smile grew wider. “He’ll know how much lead to give me.”

“You said it, not me.” Some of the tension drained from his shoulders. “I’ll keep your secret. But it’s going to cost you something big. TBD later.”

“Deal.” She straightened a stack of vendor catalogs on Reid’s desk while she gathered her thoughts. “How much do you know about Deke?”

The pen rolling roared to life again. “Britt’s best friend. Works for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Drinks craft beers. Ladies like him. A lot.”

She pushed down the stab of jealousy. She’d witnessed the depth of his appeal to the opposite sex on many occasions at the Triple B. Nothing new. Nothing new.

“He’s a conservation writer with the Service.” She went on to explain about Deke’s hunting accident, his leave from work, and reminded him about the MedTour and article.

“Why would he be doing a piece on health care? Not quite his area of expertise, is it?”

“I wondered the same thing. He said he liked to freelance in his spare time. Write about other things that interested him.”

“So he joined the tour.”

“Yep, everything was going great. He even assisted us with registration.”

“But?”

“For some of our patients, he took a real interest in their personal lives—hobbies, hunting spots, favorite movie, etc.” Evie’s mind wandered over the first few days of the tour, wishing she could return and recapture the happiness.

“Deke’s always been outgoing. Loves shooting the shit with people. How he and Tarzan became buddies is one hell of a mystery.”

“I didn’t think much about him socializing with the patients, until later.”

“Are we about to get to the good part?”

Evie speared him with a knock-it-off look as she placed his spare pens in a wire mesh penholder.

“The Med Mobile made a stop in Deke’s hometown and the residents coordinated a thank-you BBQ.” Evie pushed out of her chair, no longer able to sit. She began adjusting the pictures and plaques on his walls. “Deke’s parents arrived, unaware of their son’s presence. He’s been estranged from his family since he took the job at the Service.”

“I don’t get it.”

“He’s a federal employee with an agency that places restrictions on poaching, among other things.”

“Ahh.”

“After Mitch Conrad publicly shunned his son, Deke and I took a walk. That’s when we discovered the body.”

Reid tossed the pen onto the desk, straightening in his chair. “As in dead body?”

Nodding, she moved to the window. “Gracie Gilbert. She’s a server at the local pub and a mom.”

“You okay?” The soft understanding in his voice made her throat ache.

She tried to produce a convincing smile—but failed. “The worst part—for us, at least—was the identity of the person we caught kneeling next to the woman’s body.”

“Lisa?”

“No!”

Reid shrugged. “Just a guess. There’s something about her that’s always seemed off.”

“You barely know her.”

“Exactly.”

She was certain her brother was losing his mind until she noticed how intently he studied her face. She did smile this time. “I’m okay, Reid.” His expression didn’t change. “Truly.”

Several seconds passed before he nodded. “Who was it?”

“Dylan Conrad. Deke’s younger brother.”

He whistled. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“When Deke called out to him, Dylan yelled, ‘I didn’t do this,’ then he appeared to take something from the body before he ran off.”

“You want me to help you figure out what he took?”

“No, I want you to help me figure out who Deke really is. He’s much more than a conservation writer.”

“What am I missing?”

“He’s investigating the murder.”

“So would I if I were in his shoes.”

“You’re ex-military. A warrior. Deke’s a writer.”

“Vocation doesn’t stop a man from protecting his own.”

She couldn’t keep the skepticism from her face.

“Have you forgotten the lengths Britt and Grif went to last year to protect Randi and Carlie Beth?”

Britt had almost gotten killed trying to save Randi and a pack of red wolves from a trophy hunter. And Grif had stopped Carlie Beth’s stalker from killing everyone she held dear.

“Those situations were more organic. They dealt with the onslaught with their brains and hands and whatever they had at their disposal—like paintball guns.”

“You mentioned ‘tactical’ earlier. Explain.”

“Jumping ahead—I followed Deke to his brother’s apartment.”

“‘Followed’ him?”

She waved off his comment. “He was there with another guy. They were talking with a woman on speakerphone, asking her to do some research. I got the impression she was a computer whiz.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to match words to feelings. “It seemed like—”

“An operation?”

“Yes!” She played the scene through her mind again. “The conversation had structure, like they’d all done that sort of thing before.” She turned to her brother. “He’s not military or law enforcement. What is he?”

Reid peered over his shoulder to the landscape beyond the window. “There’s one thing. Definitely a possibility.”

“That is?”

“A U.S. Fish and Wildlife special agent.”

“Special agent? Like the FBI?”

“Yeah, but for wildlife.”

She plopped down in her chair. “Why would a wildlife agency be investigating a murder?”

“Because it involves his brother. Remember, Britt and Grif used everything at their disposal. Deke must be, too. The only difference is that your boyfriend’s resources are far more vast.”

“When I cornered him on his reason for joining the MedTour, he admitted it wasn’t to write an article on us. But I couldn’t get him to say more.”

“Could be undercover.”

“He lied to me. Used the tour.”

“Nah. He kept quiet out of necessity. Probably to protect you. And his team. Undercover work is a puzzle with a frickin’ billion pieces.” He lowered his voice. “Sorry to say, Squirt, everything, including his feelings for you, comes in second to his job. Work’s his priority and he can’t share details of his mission. It would risk his integrity and the mission. He’s gotta measure possible outcomes of any action he takes—or doesn’t take. One screw-up could blow months of work and put people—or animals—in danger.”

Her head spun like an out of control carousel.

“You think he was on a wildlife case, but got derailed by Dylan’s situation?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He rubbed his chin. “Based on the secrecy and number of players involved, I’m guessing he’s black ops.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Depends on your perspective.”

“What’s yours?”

“He’s the best of the best in his field.”