She arches a brow.“You know I can walk.And I’m not a dog.”
“And you can know I’ll be watching.You aren’t a dog, you’re fuckin’ fine as hell to look at though.Need to make sure my view stays in place.”
Her cheeks heat.“You always like this?”
I nod once.
She mutters something under her breath that sounds likebossy bastard,then lowers herself carefully onto the couch.My eyes stay on her until I’m sure she’s steady.
The second I turn away, the softness evaporates.I walk into the meeting room with murder in my veins.
Chux, Nitro, Looney, and Shaft are already there.The table is covered in printed camera stills, maps, skid mark photos, and Nitro’s laptop is pulled apart like it personally offended him.
“We got movement,” Chux shares without preamble.I got the text from him as I was driving home.I didn’t tell her this stop was necessary for intel updates.
I step forward.“Talk.”
Nitro gestures to the screen.“Pulled the traffic cams from the hour before Kelly’s crash.Look here.”
He zooms in on a grainy image the truck making a slow turn two miles from the bakery.
“Now here.”Another camera.Same truck.Driver hidden.“And here,” he says, switching views.The truck turns down the same county road Kelly takes home every night.
A chill crawls down my spine.
“They were watching her schedule,” Shaft mutters.“Knew her route.”
Chux nods.“This wasn’t opportunity.It was planned down to the damn second.”
My jaw flexes.“You’re sure?”
“Riot,” Nitro says, pointing to the timestamps.“They were trailing her for twenty minutes before the crash.”
Sickness pools in my stomach.
“So they knew she’d be alone,” I say my gut twisting because I should have been with her.
“Yeah,” Nitro says.“And they waited until she was far from town.Less witnesses.Less chance of interference.”
“And then they hit her twice,” Shaft adds.
I clench my fists hard enough to make my knuckles crack.
Chux studies my face.“There’s more.”
“Say it.”
He slides a photo across the table a burned-out truck shell pulled from a drainage ditch.
“You found it,” I state the obvious.
“Yeah.Tires match the skid marks at the scene.Engine number filed off.VIN removed.”
I skim the edges of the photo.It’s deliberate.Methodical.Someone who knows how to disappear and clean up evidence.
“Whoever this is,” Chux states what we all know, “they’re professional.”
Looney cracks his neck.“We looked into Morozov’s leftovers, but most of the family is either dead or under new leadership.Nothing points directly to them, except this.”
