“Sterling,” Buddy whispered, voice steady in a way his body wasn’t, “start your angle. If he draws, you take the shot.”
Sterling moved like smoke.
Buddy kept moving too, blood roaring in his ears, every instinct screaming to run to her, pull her free, end this now—but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not at the cost of Trent’s mom. Not at the expense of more girls.
He fucking hated this.
Fallon flicked her gaze once—one narrow sliver of hope searching the edges of the parking lot.
She didn’t see him.
But he saw her.
He always did.
She crossed the shadow line. And Buddy felt the world narrow into a single impossible truth. He was seconds away from losing her. He dropped his voice to a low, lethal whisper, words meant for no one but himself.
“I’m coming, sweetheart. Just hold on.”
Heat rolled off the pavement in thick, shimmering waves, warping the laughter and music into something distant and wrong. Fallon’s breath caught as the people ahead of her parted just enough to reveal a man cutting toward them with an easy stride and a beer in his hand. Bingo. Of all times—of all moments—he’d picked this one to find her.
“Fallon Reeves,” Bingo said, grinning. “I’ve been looking forward to surprising you all day.” He stretched his arms out wide as he came close.
Quincy—or EJ—as she suspected his real name was, released his grip, but not before jabbing her quickly with the gun and then just as quickly, it disappeared into his coat.
“What? No hug?” Bingo asked.
“Of course, I am.”
Bingo pulled her into a hug, one arm wrapping tight, the other casually keeping his beer upright. “Tell me that face means you’re happy to see me, and that no one ruined my surprise.”
Her breath stuttered against his shoulder.
“I’m speechless.” She pulled back with a smile that felt stapled onto her face. “I had no idea you were coming home.”
“Got in late last night. Had some family things I needed to do, but I didn’t want to miss this. I know how much it means to you—and to Calusa Cove.”
“I appreciate you making the effort.”
He tipped his head toward EJ. “Who’s your friend? I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
EJ didn’t offer a hand. Didn’t offer anything except a polite-enough nod that didn’t come close to touching his eyes.
Fallon’s pulse skittered. “Someone who worked with my dad,” she said quickly, hoping Bingo wouldn’t ask the next question. “He, um?—”
“Wow, your dad, huh?” Bingo tugged at his cap, lowering it over his darkened sunglasses. “I miss that man and his amazing stories. He was always so good to me.”
“He liked you. Thought you were going places,” she whispered, and she meant it. God, she meant it. But fear clamped cold fingers around her lungs. She needed him gone. Needed him safe. Needed Trent’s mom alive.
And the girls. Always the girls.
Bingo glanced between them, still smiling, but Fallon knew him well enough that behind those shades—subtle, trained eyes were cataloging… everything.
EJ stepped forward lightly, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “We really do need to be going,” he said, placing a hand on Fallon’s elbow.
Bingo’s head snapped up. “Going where? She never leaves the fundraiser early. Ever. You must be new.”
Fallon’s stomach dropped.
