Bottom line, Heron hadn’t said a goddamn thing about the hows or wheres or whys of the explosion, and Isaac hadn’t asked. “Need to know” was the rule of thumb in XOps: The boss and an operative show up with one blown into deli meat and the other dragging both their sorry asses through the sand in the middle of the night?

Fine. No biggie. Whatever.

After all, sometimes the information you carried was more dangerous than a loaded gun at your temple.

As Jim abruptly ended the call to the boss, Isaac had a bone to pick with the SOB. “First of all, I don’t need you going all martyr on me—so can the ‘I shot him’ shit. And what the hell? Matthias tried to kill himself?”

“First of all,” Jim echoed, “I don’t do collateral damage, so you can suck it up on whatever I do to save your ass. Second . . . yes. He did. The device was one of ours, and he knew precisely where to step. He met my eyes as he put his foot down . . . and mouthed something.” The guy shook his head. “Not a clue what he’d said. Then boom! Most of the detonator was vaporized. But not all of it. Not all.”

Fascinating. “How long until he gets here?”

“I don’t know. But he’s coming. He has to.”

Yeah, as for the stuff about the second in command? That was nothing he wanted to know about, frankly. He had enough intel swelling his skull. The only thing he cared about was getting tonight over with.

“I’m shit-tired of waiting,” he muttered.

“Join the club.”

On that note, Isaac looked around. The ADT system was off and so was the big boy behind Grier’s closet, but all the doors were locked, so chances were good they’d know if someone broke in.

“Listen, I’m going to go upstairs,” he said. “Keep an eye out up there.”

“Okay.” Jim’s shrewd eyes refocused on the rear garden like he expected an infiltration at any moment. “I’ll cover the back forty.”

As Isaac went to mount the rear staircase, he paused and leaned back into the kitchen. Heron was standing in front of the glass, hands on his hips, frown clamped on his brow.

No, the guy wasn’t dead. And he honestly didn’t seem bothered by the reality that a bullet could come crashing through all that see-through at any second.

“Jim.”

“Yeah.” The man looked over.

“What are you? Really.”

As silence stretched, the word “angel” winged around in the space between them. Except surely that wasn’t possible?

The man shrugged. “I just am.”

Roger that, Isaac thought. “Well . . . thank you.”

Jim shook his head. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Regardless. Thank you.” Isaac cleared his throat. “Can’t say that anyone has ever stuck their neck out for me like this.”