“Yup. As their version of internal affairs.”

“Damn it.” He bunched his forehead. “IA left a partner behind? That’s a stretch. What was their objective?”

“I hacked into Sugar’s e-mail and—”

“Great.” She would have both their butts for hacking her e-mails.

Parker shrugged. “Most everything from GSI were invoices—”

“She works with them?” Of course she works with them. He wasn’t her sole client. Actually, he was a newer client. Jared scrubbed a hand over his chin. How much Titan business would it take for her to drop GSI? He had other branches of Titan that she didn’t know existed, and they all needed weapons. Why does it matter?

“She works with everyone worth a damn.” Parker opened the folder. “Here are the details on the job. GSI had a contract with Uncle Sam to arm and train Afghanistan outpost police. But there were red flags that made it to Washington—missing guns and moolah.”

“Get to the part I care about, Parker.”

“Reports were inconsistent. Military Blackhawk UH-60 did a flyby and reported what looked like Taliban fighters and Afghani OP police training together. Washington folks complained. GSI jumped to investigate. Cue their internal affairs. Sugar’s on suspension with ATF for—”

“Yeah, I know what for,” Jared growled. He didn’t need reminding. She had ousted herself as an undercover agent to protect his ass and watch out for his team member. Sugar saved Nicola and Cash a lot of worry, and him from a giant headache. He couldn’t forget that kind of honor and allegiance.

Parker shifted on his feet. “Kip sought Sugar out after hearing she was on indefinite desk duty. The guy thinks he’s smooth, but looks like she was itching for something to do. The rest is in here.” Flicking the folder, he paused, then laid it on the desk.

Jared snatched it, then paged through. It held nothing interesting. “Tell Brock I expect an approval of our return within an hour.”

“GSI already has the job. They went back and asked for it. Something about trying to save face since we had to go in and save their man.”

Jared slammed his hands on his desktop. “Excuse me?”

“They already—”

“Find me Kip Pearson’s location. Now.” He would hunt the bastard down and find out what wasn’t on paper. All the training in the world wouldn’t keep Jared Westin calm and collected, but it would help him interrogate the piece of shit who’d left his partner behind.

“One more thing.”

He didn’t have the patience to read the entire file. “What?”

“Turn the page. There’s a fifty-page report from Washington explaining why we only knew to pick up one hostage.”

Jared thumbed through the thick wad of paper. “Short version.”

“Before Kip was captured, he transmitted a status report that said Sugar pursued a lead solo and was killed by a car bomb. No one would have thought twice about a fatality like that, but I guess some bureaucrat double-checked. No one wants to see a US contractor die in a bomb. But, more importantly, no politician wants to hear about a female civilian dying like that. Analysts checked several sources and came up empty. There was no car bomb.”