“When the shit hits the fan, it usually doesn’t waste any time,” Hunter agreed.
After a heavy sigh, she began hesitantly, “Okay, so…I’m sure you’re both aware that for a handful of years now we’ve seen a dramatic rise in disinformation campaigns targeting Americans, and that the aim of these campaigns is to drive the populace apart.”
“Sure.” Hunter nodded. “It’s no secret foreign trolls have flooded social media and are infiltrating the feeds of those most likely to swallow their wild conspiracy theories, hate speech, and lies.”
“Exactly.” She pushed a lock of long, blond hair behind her ear. She’d had one of those sleek bobs when they’d first met. It’d suited her. But he liked her hair better this way. Long and messy and falling past her shoulders.
It made a no-nonsense FBI agent look…soft. Touchable.
He’d never wanted to touch a woman more, so he clenched his hands into fists inside his pockets.
“But despite being made aware of the threat,” Grace continued, “people are still baited into following, liking, and sharing these posts. The bureau has discovered thousands of Facebook groups thatlooklegitimate but are actually run by Russians who overtly and covertly foment discord.”
“Like what happened in 2016 with that Islamic center in Houston,” Hunter offered.
“Exactly.” She nodded. “Which just goes to show online disinformation leads to real world actions that have the potential to become violent.”
“Wait.” Sam frowned. “Refresh my memory. What happened in Houston?”
“Back in May of that year, the Islamic Da’wah Center became the site of two dueling protests,” she explained. “On the one side was a group named Heart of Texas. They were rallying against the Islamization of Texas.”
Sam snorted. “Is that even a thing in the land of open carry and longhorn cattle?”
“This group was made to believe it was.” She made a face. “Anyway, the counter-protesters were a group called the United Muslims of America. They were there to advocate for the study and teaching of Islamic knowledge within their community.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “The people on both sides were real Americans. Folks who fundamentally believed in their causes. But the entire scene was instigated and organized by the Kremlin. The Facebook groups were started and run by the Russians, and they used these groups to pit citizen against citizen and to organize an event that would end in violence. Or so they hoped.”
“Right.” Sam nodded. “I remember reading something ’bout that now.”
Grace sighed heavily. “Luckily, that protest and counter-protest didn’t devolve into anarchy. But since then there have been plenty of instances of disinformation causing divide thathaveresulted in bloodshed.”
“But it’s not like this sort of disinformation is anything new,” Eliza observed as she topped the stairs. She’d shed her apron and in her arms was a tray filled with all manner of things that smelled delicious. Despite her grace and aplomb, Sam was quick to jump up and take the tray from her.
“What a gentleman.” Eliza’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “But where was your chivalry that day I forgot my key and you left me standing in the rain for twenty minutes?”
“I didn’t hear you knocking!” Sam declared defensively, setting the tray on the table.
“And when I called you?” Eliza's eyes narrowed to slits.
“I’ve told you one thousand times, my cell was charging in the other room and I didn’t hear it ring.”
“Hmph.” After Eliza took a seat, she began pouring coffee from the French press into the coffee mugs she took from the tray. “So you say. But I have my doubts. Especially because you seemed to take such joy in showing everyone the security footage of me looking like a drowned rat and beating at the front door like a lunatic.”
Sam laughed. “Can you blame me? You’re always so”—he gestured toward Eliza’s tidy bun and tailored, button-down shirt—“put together that seeing you wet and wild and running around with your arms flapping was sort of like seeing a fish walk on dry land. I couldn’t keep that to myself. It was comic gold.”
“You could’vetried,” Eliza declared with a fierce scowl. “And I don’t recall a single arm flap. You made that part up.”
Sam opened his mouth to continue arguing a point they’d been arguing for the past two years, but he was interrupted when Grace suddenly let out anumphfollowed by a squawk.
BKI’s mascot had hopped into her lap.
“Uhhh.” Grace blinked down at the giant tomcat who looked like he’d gone two rounds with a woodchipper and lost. His gray fur was patchy in spots. One ear was notched. And his tail took a sharp turn to the right about midway down its length.
“Well, hello there.” A genuine smile softened Grace’s features and made Hunter’s heart go mushy. Seriously, the organ was suddenly so limp he was surprised it could still beat. “And who are you?” she crooned to the cat.
“That’s Peanut,” Sam informed her. “He came with the place. And just so you know, there are two things he loves most in life. Fancy Feast and women. Dump him off if you don’t want him making biscuits on your thighs.”
“No.” Grace lifted a hand to pet Peanut, who eagerly butted his huge, round head against her palm. “I don’t mind. Peanut, huh? Is that a joke? Like calling a big guy Tiny?”
