is.” Jake fought the urge to grit his teeth. Chris always took forever to get to the point. He’d start with the weather, then move on to something equally innocuous, like sports. “So what’s this private thing?”
He hoped Chris wasn’t going to announce that he’d left his family and needed a place to stay. He had one of the most stable marriages Jake had ever seen, and besides, Kelly wasn’t really prepared to handle company yet.
“It’s Mark.”
Jake went cold. His older brother had joined the military straight out of high school. He was a lifer, ended up a Navy SEAL. And with wars going on in multiple countries, this wasn’t the best time to be an enlisted man. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Chris plucked at the pleats in his corduroy pants.
Jake’s heart clenched. “Did you get notification?”
Chris shook his head. “Oh, no, nothing like that. He’s out of the service, anyway.”
Relief swept over Jake. He’d been braced to hear that Mark had been killed by a suicide bomber or an IED. “When did he get discharged?”
“About six months ago. He’s been working for this company.”
Jake couldn’t picture his rugged older brother in a suit and tie. “What company?”
“I have it here.” Chris dug around in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
Jake had to squint to read it. “A tire company?”
“No, it’s Tyr Global.”
“You’re kidding,” Jake said. Tyr Global was the world leader in K&R work. They’d been in business for almost four decades, and pretty much wrote the book on hostage negotiation. “Doing what?”
“He didn’t say. But he showed up at our door a week ago, told me he was going out on an operation. If I didn’t hear back from him by the twenty-seventh, something went wrong. That was two days ago, Jake.” Worry furrowed his brow. “So I figured I’d better come see you. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Jake leaned back in his chair, frowning. “So he left the service and went to work for one of my competitors. Typical.”
Chris shrugged. “Probably reckoned you were still ticked off at him.”
“He would have reckoned right.”
“Would you have hired him?”
Jake’s face flushed. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Well, there you go, then.”
“So what do you expect me from me?”
Chris leaned forward in his chair and jabbed the desk with his index finger. “He’s our brother, Jake. And this is what your company does, right? You go in and save people.”
“You could have just called to tell me what happened.”
“I could’ve. But I wanted you to say no to my face. And if you won’t help, I leave for Mexico City tonight. End of story.” Chris crossed his arms and glared at him.
Jake drummed his fingers on his desk. “Even after what happened, you’re willing to risk your life for him?”
“Yup.”
“You don’t even speak Spanish.”
“Neither do you,” Chris retorted. “You know it’s what Mom would have wanted.”
The words hung in the air between them. Jake deliberated. The thought of Chris navigating the underbelly of Mexico City, one of the most dangerous metropolitan areas in the world, was laughable. He’d wind up getting himself killed. Jake sighed. “Tell me everything he told you. Where he was going, what was supposed to happen.”
“Yessir.” Chris looked relieved, and Jake felt a wave of pity. This had been a big burden for Chris to carry. He of all people knew that Mark would never want help from Jake. But whatever Mark had gotten himself into, it would take more than an accountant to get him back out.
Ten minutes later Jake eased closed the door to his office. After relaying everything he could remember, Chris had passed out cold on his couch—chances were he hadn’t slept much the past few days, sitting there waiting for his phone to ring. Jake walked down the hall to Syd’s office, waving off a few employees who tried to approach him. He rapped twice on the door before letting himself in.
Syd was lying on her couch, flipping through a magazine. “How’s the reunion going?” she asked without looking up.
“Not good. Look’s like my older brother has been kidnapped.”
“What?” She sat up. “Where?”
“He was running a snatch and grab for Tyr south of the border. Mexico City, Chris thinks, but he’s not a hundred percent sure. Something must have gone wrong. He was supposed to check in two days ago.”
“Maybe he’s holed up in some Tijuana bar celebrating,” Syd said skeptically.
“Not Mark.” Jake shook his head emphatically. “If he could call, he would have. You hear any chatter from Tyr?”
“No, but I can put out some feelers. I’ve got a guy over there.” Syd crossed to her desk, all business now. “Wasn’t Calderon snatched in Mexico City?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Jake said. Although it wasn’t public knowledge, the head of Tyr Global had been kidnapped six weeks earlier. Tyr had gone to great lengths to keep word from getting out—after all, having their frontman snatched wasn’t good for business.
“They’d send their best to get him back,” Syd said thoughtfully as she tapped through screens on her computer. “Your brother that good?”
“Maybe. He spent more than two decades as a SEAL, tours in Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy,” Syd said approvingly.
“I’m sure he’d love you,” Jake said.
“Well, then, we’ll have to arrange a meeting. Give me ten minutes.”
Jake let himself out. He fought the urge to pace the halls while he waited. A few people looked up from their desks quizzically. Switching direction suddenly, he headed to the front desk, grabbing his jacket from the closet on the way out.
“Mr. Riley, are you—” his secretary called after him.
He ignored her, marching into the outer hall. He hooked right by the elevators and threw open the door to the roof. It wasn’t supposed to be accessible, but one thing he and Syd learned early on was that this line of work attracted smokers, and providing a place to indulge went a long way toward keeping them happy. With that in mind they’d struck a deal with the building’s management company to construct a small, sheltered space on the roof. Ducking in, he was pleased to find it unoccupied. He eschewed the chairs, preferring to pace the few feet back and forth.
Even in this weather, the view was striking. Central Park sprawled out below him, all stark branches and grass blanched gray. In the distance off to his left, he could see whitecaps on the reservoir, while to his right the Midtown skyline marched toward the glare of Times Square. Farther on, the tip of Manhattan merged with the horizon. Jake gnawed his lip, checking his watch. Jesus, Mark, he thought to himself. What the hell did you sign up for?
The creak of a door behind him and Syd appeared. She held the collar of an enormous fur coat up to shield her ears.
“Seriously, Jake, the roof? Make it a little harder on me, why don’t you.”
“What is it?” He could tell by her eyes the news wasn’t good.
Syd shook her head. “Tyr lost a team four days ago. They had good intel on where Calderon was being held and decided to