A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in and kissed her again, soft and almost chaste, a gentle promise.
Then he stepped away and turned to the stove, lifting the lid off the pot of chili.
Delaney stood where he left her, heart pounding, lips still tingling, already counting down the days.
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Chapter Sixteen
----- ? ----
Eli woke to the quiet tick of the wall clock and the low hum of electronics. The room was dim, the only light coming from the glow of the laptop screens still open on the coffee table. He blinked and glanced at the time.
Nearly midnight.
Delaney was curled up beside him on the sofa, her head resting against his shoulder, her breathing slow and even. Exhaustion had hit both of them hard after dinner. They’d planned to do more digging into the institute’s search reports, but aside from a few emails and two phone calls that led nowhere, they hadn’t made much progress.
The search team had come up dry. No sign of Hale. No buried files. No underground rooms. Nothing that screamed criminal activity. And that? That bothered the hell out of him.
Eli reached for the throw blanket draped overthe armrest and gently eased it around Delaney’s shoulders. She shifted slightly, her cheek brushing his chest, but she didn’t wake.
He exhaled slowly, letting his hand rest for just a second longer than necessary before pulling back. His gaze dropped to her mouth. All it took was that one image to drag him right back to that kiss. The one that started with heat and ended with a promise. One he wanted to keep more than he probably should.
Damn, he still wanted her.
Eli sat back, careful not to jostle her or touch her wounded arm, and he dragged a hand over his face. He needed to think about anything but the way her body had pressed against his, or how easily he’d gotten lost in the taste of her.
He shifted just enough to reach his laptop, trying to redirect his thoughts toward the case. Hale was still missing. That meant something. People like Hale didn’t vanish unless they had a plan.
Eli pulled up the encrypted server again, eyes scanning the latest logs. Nothing yet. But if Hale had gone to ground, it was only a matter of time before he surfaced. And when he did, Eli would be ready.
He glanced back at Delaney. She was still asleep, peaceful now. He’d give anything to keep her that way. Safe. Protected. Unshaken.
But the storm wasn’t over. Not even close.
Eli’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the reportthat had just pinged from Isla. The subject line read:Update: Barn Shooter DNA Hit. He clicked it open, pulse ticking a little faster.
They had something.
He read the brief report twice to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
The shooter who had been wounded during the rescue—blood spatter collected near the west fence line—had produced a match in CODIS. Name: Trevor Mott. Thirty-four. Prior arrests for aggravated assault, weapons charges, and one sealed juvie record.
No known ties to Hale, the institute, or to Lawrence Melborne.
Yet.
Eli frowned. That last part felt temporary. A hired gun didn’t come out of nowhere. Somebody brought him in, paid him, armed him, and gave him a target.
Delaney shifted beside him.
“Hey,” she murmured, her voice rough with sleep. She blinked up at him. “What time is it?”
“Just after midnight,” he said, closing the laptop halfway and turning to her. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I was half awake anyway.” She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes. “Anything new?”
Eli nodded. “We got a hit on the blood at the barn. One of the shooters. Trevor Mott.”
