Page 31 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Tag

“ W e’ll need clean comms, untraceable vehicles, and eyes on Graves around the clock,” I said, pacing the upper level of the rec center.

Gideon’s face flickered on the secure laptop screen. “Already in motion. You get the flash drive?”

Aponi stepped into frame, her expression pure steel. “It’s bad, Gideon. He’s funding shelters, safe havens, even PD programs. His money is everywhere, even the rec centers.”

“Which means so are his moles,” Gideon said. “I’ll loop in River and Gage. If Graves is protected at the federal level, we need ears and eyes off-grid.”

Faron leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “This has to stay quiet. One leak and we’re not just blowing the op—we’re dead.”

Tag looked over at Aponi. “You ready for that?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I was born ready.”

We hung up and locked the room down.

Aponi pulled out a dry-erase board and started drawing a layout of Graves’ known properties—private compound in Bel Air, fake-named ranch in New Mexico, yacht harbored off the coast of La Jolla.

“He’s got walls and men at every site,” she said, circling the ranch. “But this one? It’s quiet. He doesn’t bring guests. No security footage. No satellite feed. I think he keeps the worst of it there.”

Tag stepped closer. “Then that’s where we go first.”

Faron nodded. “Recon only. We find the evidence. We blow it wide.”

Tag’s phone buzzed.

He frowned. “It’s Beatrice.”

He picked up, voice careful. “What’s wrong?”

Pause.

Then his eyes darkened. “Are you sure?”

He looked at Aponi. “You said Kaylie was staying at the trauma recovery center, right?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Why?”

“She’s gone.”

A cold silence fell over the room.

Faron was already dialing. “This is a message. Graves knows we’re coming.”

Aponi’s voice was ice. “Then let’s hit him first.”