"You think someone was after Whitney to kill him for real and he had to fake his own death, not to hide from exposure and us, but to keep from being targeted?" Jack rubbed his temples. "How the hell did we ever get into this mess?"

"We didn't give a damn at the time," Ken said. "Now you've got a wife and twins on the way and you've got something to live for. Let's pull back, regroup with our team, and ask a few hard questions. We can have Logan contact Ryland Miller's team, and between us. we ought to have enough brains to figure out what's going on."

Jack frowned, rolled back over, and using elbows and toes, inched his way forward through heavy foliage. "We can't leave the bastard an open target, can we? If someone else wants him dead, we should probably find out why and how it affects us."

Ken wiggled his way along a rabbit path, belly down, gun cradled out of the dirt. He'd had a bad feeling for a while now.

"Hold it, Jack," Ken whispered, eye to the scope. Something is wrong. He reached out to telepathically communicate with his twin brother. It was a handy ability when they wanted to remain unseen. They'd been talking back and forth like this for as long as Ken could remember, never needing to communicate verbally with each other when telepathy was so handy. Consequently, they had a strong bond that had stood them in good stead over the years. The psychic experiment they'd agreed to after SEAL training had only added to that already powerful tool.

I feel it too. Kadan sent out the alert. They're going to come in hard and fast. We're going to have to protect the bastard. Whoever wants him dead is already here.

Ken kept his eye on the senator through the window. The senator's young and beautiful trophy wife is aware they have company too. Look at her.