Rav
The SUV’sdashboard clock read 7:17.
Noah was seventeen minutes late.
I scanned the cemetery entrance again, hand resting on the door handle, for no reason other than to keep it off my sidearm.
“This isn’t like him,” Scarlett murmured from the back seat. “Five minutes yesterday was one thing, but he’s never this late.”
Except when he was two years late telling you he was still alive, Scar.
Every move meant something to a man like Noah. Including making us wait.
Zac shifted in the driver’s seat, checking his mirrors. “Could be traffic. The accident on the highway we avoided?”
“He used to be thirty minutes ahead of everything, to be sure he always had the lay of the land,” she said. “I don’t like this.”
We’d been waiting since 6:45. There hadn’t been any sign of him. Something was off.
“We give it five more minutes,” I said. “Then we leave.”
Scarlett leaned forward between the seats. “We need the intel he promised us.”
“We need to be alive to use any of it,” I snapped, more sharply than intended.
I hadn’t slept well last night, and it was showing. The rooftop conversation with Brooke kept replaying in my mind.
The almost-kiss. Her hand on my chest again.
The interrupted question:Do you ever think about us?
I hadn’t meant to ask her. The words were out of my mouth before my brain kicked in. She was smart enough to figure out my guilty truth: I thought about her all the time.
If Malcolm hadn’t interrupted us, what would she have said? There’d been plenty of time for her to answer, but she’d just stood there, staring at me.
Distractions get people killed, Rav.
Or burned.
Scarlett said, “We should check between those service buildings he came from yesterday.”
I nodded curtly. “You stay in the vehicle.”
“Rav—”
“Non-negotiable.” I turned to fix her with a glower. “I’m not letting you walk into a potential trap.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t push back. It was progress, at least.
The minutes crawled by, punctuated only by the distant call of gulls and the occasional passing vehicle on the road behind us. Every shadow, every movement in my peripheral vision triggered a threat assessment.
I nodded and pulled the door handle. “Keep the engine running. If anything looks off, you pull out immediately.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Scarlett said. “Quick look, then come back.”
“Two minutes,” I promised, though we both knew I’d take as long as necessary.
The morning air was cool against my face as I eased out of the vehicle. I started with a 180-degree sweep before closing the door. My Glock sat in its concealed holster at my waist, ready to be drawn.
