Of course Bones was a stone wall even now. Let him commit. Let him make the mistake.
I slid into the crowd, threading past a family with strollers. The wind caught my hat and whipped it sideways, but I didn’t stop to fix it.
“Lunchbox,” I murmured, “pull her three steps left. That gives Bones cover from the kiosk.”
“On it.”
I watched the shift play out in a beautifully natural progression. Lunchbox “accidentally” angled himself so Graceand Goblin drifted left—still looking like tourists, but now perfectly aligned with Bones’ approach vector. Bones materialized from behind a cluster of informational displays, blending into the foot traffic like he’d been born in it.
It was choreography. Dangerous, invisible choreography.
The spotter didn’t see a damn thing. Yet, he reached them—too close.
Grace stiffened, just a fraction. Goblin planted himself in front of her leg, hackles whispering upward beneath his vest.
The spotter lifted his chin at them, eyes hidden below the brim of a greasy ballcap. “Excuse me,” he said, voice too smooth to be casual.
Lunchbox didn’t blink. “What’s up, man?”
“You folks lost?” the spotter asked. “This area isn’t for visitors. Security only.”
Lunchbox smiled like a wolf on vacation. “Pretty sure the sign back there said ‘public access,’ bud.”
The man’s gaze flicked to Grace. Not her hat. Not her sweatshirt.
Her.
My blood heated.
Grace kept her sunglasses angled down, voice steady. “We’re just walking our dog.”
A lie. A good one.
Goblin leaned forward just slightly, reading the man like prey.
The spotter zeroed in on that, eyes narrowing—but not at the dog.
At her hand.
Her right hand.
Where her sleeve had ridden up just enough for him to see what? The faint scars from restraints. They were there. Faded, but not invisible.
My chest went cold.
He recognized something. Or thought he did.
Bones’ voice cut through the comms, sharp as a blade. “Voodoo.”
“On your right,” I said.
We hit the edges of the confrontation at the same time?—
Bones from the blind side. Me from the flow of foot traffic behind the spotter.
Lunchbox straightened, energy shifting. Grace didn’t move, but her fingers flexed once on Goblin’s harness.
The spotter stepped a half inch closer to her—too close—and I saw Bones’ jaw lock like he was grinding stone between his teeth.
