Evan Jacoby stared at the laptop screen, horrified. There was Hunter Sullivan, in all his goddamn glory. He turned to Tack.
“Former Marine? Bodyguard?”
“Yep.” Tack shrugged. “That’s what my contact says.”
“f**k me.” Evan closed his eyes; this was way worse than he’d imagined it. “Any word on the woman?”
“None. But my contact only has access to military stuff, so it just means she ain’t former or active military. She could be a cop, she could be FBI.”
“Can we find out?”
“Maybe.”
“Depending on what?”
“On whether or not that picture you took of her gets any hits. We’re talking loads of images on lots of data bases. I can ask other people, if you want. They may come back with something on her.”
“What about the DNA I collected? Anything useful?” Evan had gone straight from the airport
