4
Julia
Iparked my truck on the edge of Jasper Jensen’s property just after sunrise. It was already hot, he heat waves clung low over the fields, and the cypress trees looked ghostly in the gray light of the shade. I slipped on my cap, pulled my hair through the back, and adjusted my holster.
I wasn’t officially on duty. But when it came to the cartel, I didn’t care about shifts or paperwork. I cared about keeping Copper Cove safe—and keeping Hawk’s father alive.
I walked toward the back fence line, where the woods thickened. Something about that patch of land had been bothering me since last night. When I crouched near the fence, I found deep ruts in the mud—tire tracks, big ones. A truck had been here recently.
I snapped a photo and followed the trail a few feet until I found a crushed cigarette butt, the kind you don’t see around here often—imported, the ones that looked like thin cigars. The kind cartel men were known to smoke. My stomach tightened.
I straightened at the sound of footsteps behind me. My hand went to my gun before I even turned.
“Easy there, Detective.”
I exhaled and lowered my weapon. Hawk stood a few feet away, his ball cap pulled low, the morning sun just catching the stubble on his jaw.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Following my dad’s orders. He said if I wanted breakfast, I’d have to earn it by keeping you out of trouble. We saw you coming this way.”
I glared at him, though it was hard to stay mad when he looked like sin wrapped in a T-shirt. “This is an active investigation. You can’t be here.”
He crouched beside the tracks, ignoring me completely.
“This isn’t your territory either. These are fresh. Two—maybe three hours old.”
“You’ve been trained to read tire tracks now?” I said with a smirk,
He looked up at me with that lazy grin that made my pulse trip. “You forget who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I’ve been trained to read a lot worse than tracks.”
My cheeks heated, and I turned away. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Fine. Julia.” His voice was soft and teasing, but his eyes remained sharp as he scanned the woods. “Whoever’s out here has been watching the house.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m trying to figure out why they picked this area.”
“Because it’s quiet. Remote. No cameras, no traffic.” He stood, brushing dirt from his hands. “Perfect for a drop zone.”
I crossed my arms. “You sound like you’ve done this before. If the Colombian cartel is here, then someone in the government knows about it.”
“I’ve done this a lot of times. I’ll find out who knows about it.” His tone shifted, serious now. “Julia, these people don’t just push drugs. They bury problems. You and your family need to stay out of this.”
“I can’t do that.”
He stepped closer, close enough for me to smell the faint scent of cedar and soap. “Then at least don’t do it alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
His jaw flexed. “Your sisters don’t count. They’re civilians with a license to poke their noses into danger.”
“Just because you think you’re some kind of hero doesn’t mean the rest of us need saving.”
He smiled, slow and maddening. “I don’t save people, Julia. I protect them. Big difference.”
For a second, neither of us spoke. The squirrels chased each other from tree to tree. They were loud and constant, filling the silence between us.
Then a sharp crack echoed through the trees.
