"FBI! FREEZE! I MEAN IT!"
Orange spray filled the air in a chemical cloud. The figure stumbled backward, hands going to his face, a string of muffled curses that would have made her grandmother reach for the soap.
Sarah kept the spray raised, her hands shaking so hard she could barely maintain her grip. "I said freeze! I'm a federal agent, and I will empty this entire can in your face! I know karate!"
She didn't know karate. She knew Excel. But he didn't need to know that.
The man doubled over, coughing and choking. "Stop. Just—" Another coughing fit. "Stop. Danger. Here to help."
The canister slid from Sarah's fingers.
What?
4
Pain.Fire.
Griff’s eyes streamed. His nose ran. His face felt like he'd kissed a blowtorch. Years of black ops missions, and he'd been taken down by an accountant with bear spray.
"I'm trying to save your life!" He managed to choke out between coughs.
"By breaking into my cabin? In tactical gear?" Her voice had hit a pitch that could probably shatter glass. "That's breaking and entering. Assault. Probably some other crimes I can't think of right now because someone just BROKE DOWN MY DOOR."
Griff tried to open his eyes. Big mistake. The burning zoomed from incineration to molten. He stumbled backward, hands pressed against his face. "Lady, we need to—" Another coughing fit seized him.
"How do I know you're not here to kill me?"
"Because if I was—" He wheezed, trying to breathe through the chemical fog. "You'd already be dead."
"That's NOT reassuring."
Despite the searing pain, Griff almost laughed. Here hewas, former Navy SEAL, trained killer, protector of democracy, completely incapacitated by a woman who probably weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet and thought designer boots were appropriate wilderness footwear.
"Please," he gasped. "Just... water. Help me rinse my eyes, and I'll explain everything."
"Oh sure, I'll help the armed intruder. That seems smart." But he heard her moving around, heard water running. "Stay right there. Don't move."
"I couldn't move if I wanted to. You hit me with enough spray to stop a grizzly."
A bottle of water appeared in his field of burning vision. "Here. And keep your hands where I can see them."
Griff grabbed the water and poured it over his face, the relief immediate but nowhere near sufficient. His eyes were on fire. Every breath brought a fresh wave of capsaicin into his lungs.
The water ran down his cheeks in burning rivulets, orange residue streaking onto the floor. His eyelids felt like they’d been sandblasted, every blink dragging grit across raw skin.
Through the blurhe caught Sarah’s expression—shock first, then guilt, sharp and unguarded. She looked from his swollen eyes to the empty can in her hand.
“I—I did that,”she whispered.
He managedsomething between a cough and a laugh. “Better me than you.”
She still clutched the canister,knuckles white, eyes wide with regret. For a second she looked ready to drop everything and apologize.
“Save it,”he rasped, forcing himself upright. “Apologies won’t keep you alive. Moving will. There's a hit team coming. They'll be here in minutes."
"Oh, naturally. Because this day wasn't weird enough." Her laugh had an edge of hysteria. "First I get dragged to Montana for wilderness training I never asked for, and now there are hit teams. What's next, aliens?"
"You're Sarah Winters, right? FBI financial crimes?"
