Micah doesn’t waste time. “Ran Carrick’s name through a few private channels. Someone matching his description checked into a no-name motel two towns over under a fake ID. Paid cash. Room’s still registered.”
I exhale slowly. “How sure are you it’s him?”
“Eighty percent. The ID’s connected to an alias he’s used before. Long story short: he’s off the grid. Which means he’s not here for business, he’s here for her.”
My jaw tightens.
“He’s hunting her,” I say.
Micah confirms with silence.
“I’ll keep eyes on her. You get Hale on him.”
“Already done. We’re mobilizing. Shouldn’t take long once we get visuals.”
Just as I’m about to respond, I spot movement—a shadow, fast, slipping between two parked cars across the street. Just a flicker of someone ducking behind a truck.
“I’ve got eyes on someone,” I mutter, ending the call without waiting for a reply.
I bolt down the alley and across the lot, heart hammering, vision narrowed like a scope. I scan every car, every alley, every yard as I round the corner.
Nothing.
He’s gone.
I crouch low, listening. Only the wind, the quiet buzz of holiday lights strung across the street, and a dog barking somewhere in the distance. But Ifeltit. That burn at the back of my neck. The hunter’s instinct. The same one that saved my life more times than I can count.
And I know, deep down in my gut, I sawhim.
Travis Carrick is here.
Watching.
Stalking.
Waiting for the moment I let my guard down.
I straighten, scan one last time, and head back toward the diner.
When I step inside, Greta looks up, worry flashing in her eyes. “Everything okay?”
I nod. Lie. “Just got a call from Micah.”
“Anything?”
“Not yet.” I scrub a hand over my jaw. “But we’re getting close.”
She watches me, like she knows I’m not saying everything. And maybe she does. But I’m not giving her fear. Not while I can carry it for her.
“I’ll grab more coffee,” she says softly.
And I watch her go, knowing one thing for damn sure.
This isn’t over.
And I’llneverlet her face him alone.
7
