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Joe’s elbow. He winced. “Who’s handling the club attack?”
    “Roxy.”
    It was her event—she was the bride—and the FBI assigned her? She was good, very good and gutsy, but the personal interest made assigning her a questionable move. “She’s way too close, bro.”
    “She can handle it. She’s the top authority on NINA and motivated.”
    So Homeland Security made the call and pegged NINA as its primary suspect. With Karl Masson on the loose, this didn’t look good. “You need the team.”
    “No. Not this time.”
    “Understood.” They could best assist from a distance—and maybe stay alive.
    Joe walked the last twenty yards to his Harley, then drove off into the night, dialing Sam.

    From behind a twisted oak, Karl Masson watched Joe go. When he was out of sight, Karl fished out his own phone and hit speed dial.
    A woman answered. “Yes?”
    “Raven?” It sounded like her, but he couldn’t be sure.
    “Who is this?”
    “Gray Ghost.” He studied the spiderweb tattoo on his right hand between his forefinger and thumb.
    “Mission?”
    “Dead Game.”
    “Code?”
    “A72777.”
    “You’re late reporting in.”
    It was Raven. “Yes ma’am. Unavoidable.”
    “They’ve picked up on you, then.”
    “Yes ma’am.” How high up the chain, he wasn’t sure. But having a Shadow Watcher on his back for two days proved word he was active was no longer secret. Masson broke into a sweat. With Raven, the truth or a lie could get an operative killed—even if he was the best go-to cleaner in the entire organization. Truthfully, she worried him more than Homeland Security or the Shadow Watchers. They weren’t ruthless. “He’s departed the fix, which means he’s probably en route to Seagrove Village.”
    “We’re ready.”
    Her local operatives were in jail, tied up, or campaigning for mayor. She needed someone stealthy who could actually do her some good. “What are my orders?”
    “Leave the car and RV in place and get down here as soon as you can.”
    Great. Just great . Mark Taylor and Benjamin Brandt would be looking for him on every corner. Their women, Lisa Harper and Kelly Walker, would be too. Raven knew that, so why was she bringing him—a possibility struck hard. “You’re not suffering any ill effects?” He started walking. It was six miles to the nearest town.
    “No, I’m fine. Having me at the club during the attack was a stroke of genius.”
    “Thank you.” His idea and, since it was successful, his glory. What better cover for Raven than to be one of the victims? “Where should I go when I get there?”
    “Call half an hour before arrival for further instructions. Raven out.”
    The line went dead.
    Masson shivered. When he’d contacted Raven about Harvey and Roxy’s ceremony and suggested the Dead Game operation, he figured his odds were fifty-fifty. Raven would either welcome him back or kill him. She had bought into the FBI claim he was dead. He tried, but he couldn’t stay hidden. Not with authorities turning over every rock to find him. They’d gotten too close to his kids. That’s when he had to move, take the risk, and hope Raven brought him back into the fold. Fortunately, she liked his plan.
    It was brilliant.
    But whether or not it was brilliant enough to keep him alive, Raven alone would decide. And what she decided, he suspected, would depend on that nosy computer whiz at SaBe.

5

    I t was a hard night to be alone.
    A few hours before midnight, Beth sat on the back porch of her Gulf-front home with her laptop balanced on her knees and ran an update on NINA and today’s incident. Waiting for her security clearance to kick in, she looked over at the Towers. Nora’s apartment was still lit up. Poor thing likely wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight.
    Few knew Nora worked as a housekeeper for Ben because he needed her and not because she needed the job. She and Nathara had learned business at their dad’s knee, and on Nora’s eighteenth birthday, she’d bought