Other than damp panties? A raging hunger for a certain sheriff? “Couldn’t be better. Let’s go.”
Fueled by fresh energy, I dive in. I describe how Andrea inserted herself at the diner. How she lied to me and to Brett. And how, in the end, she died. Her only crime was wanting him all to herself. Wrong place, wrong time.
“Carmine made it clear what would happen if I didn’t follow his commands.”
“What made you stop at the border station?”
The memory slams into me, tears sliding down before I can stop them. I swipe them away, forcing a smirk.
“As I pulled out of the lot, I heard a bang. Thought he shot the sheriff…” I give it a beat. “…but he did not shoot the deputy.”
The joke’s for Kade, listening in. Still, I half-expect Wulf to crack a smile.
No such luck.
“Anyway, I prayed for an ambulance. If it got there in time, maybe Kade would make it, but honestly? I didn’t hold out much hope.”
Grabbing a tissue, I blow my nose, then wipe my eyes. “I also knew Kelly would call you guys. Hopefully, before he killed me, too.”
After that, there isn’t much more to tell. He asks a lot of questions about the teenage hikers, but it happened so fast—I don’t remember many details. Mostly, I acted on instinct. I couldn’t let Griffin murder the kid because of me.
The next few hours pass in a blur, but it helps knowing Kade is close by, watching.
Then, having climbed Mt. Everest—both emotionally and physically—my heavy head drops into my folded arms and I sleep.
Chapter 37
Kade
I rest my feet on the conference room table with my eyes half-closed. On the seventy-inch monitor behind me, Bree sleeps. Not expecting company, I almost fall to the floor when the door cracks open.
Suit rumpled, dark circles under his eyes, Ito gives me a curt nod, then heads straight for the dregs of my box o’ joe.
As he rips sugar packets, I push him the last three creamers.
“How do you think it went, Counselor?”
“She’ll be free as soon as Wulf puts the paperwork through.” His certainty releases the tension in my shoulders.
“Thanks.” Finally, I can focus on the future—one that includes a brave, smart-mouthed pilot.
“No need.” He smirks. “It’s my job. And don’t worry. Her parents can afford my fees.”
Picturing a lifetime of debt, I grimace. “Bree will insist on paying them back.”
“Convince her to take the money—then help her ghost them. You look like you can handle clean breaks.” Making a face at the bitter brew, he heads out the door. “Long night. Don’t let her talk to anyone, not even family.”
“I won’t.”
The door clicks shut, then swings open again. A grinning Hunt strolls in and slaps me on the back.
“Wulf says the DA’s dropping all charges. Based on your eyewitness account, the FBI will rule Griffin’s death justified.”
“How can you be so sure?” I want to believe it’s over—but every instinct says don’t trust it. Not yet.
“Optics. Tourism. No one wants murder-mayhem headlines in the Burlington Free Press.” He yawns. “Come on, wake her up. Breakfast is on me.”
At her door, I pause. Even after an all-night interrogation, she takes my breath away. Leaning in, I brush my lips against the nape of her neck.
