Callum chuckles. “Enjoy the downtime.”
Ingram walks to his desk, grabs the charger and gives one last goodbye. “Be back with a tan and a suitcase full of plastic junk.”
Only once his back is fully turned do I feel my shoulders drop half an inch. My palms are clammy and I wipe them on my uniform pants before standing.
I finish my paperwork, clip it together, and slide the forms into the tray for review. My equipment belt sits ready on the nearby chair. I take my radio, test it, then grab the keys to the cruiser.
Callum gives me a brief nod as I pass, and Luke lifts his mug in a lazy salute.
Outside, the morning is cooler than expected. The sky is washed pale blue, the sun just beginning to warm the edges.
Anton’s parked near the edge of the lot, engine idling.
I veer toward his car before heading for the patrol SUV and tap my knuckles against his window. He rolls it down immediately.
“All right, bodyguard,” I say. “You can stand down.”
His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“Ingram’s going on vacation,” I tell him. “A week.”
He blinks. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” I lean an elbow against the door. “Lucky timing. But it gives us a window. One week for GhostEye to dig and figure out what the hell he’s been hiding.”
Anton exhales slowly, already recalibrating. “That helps.”
“It does,” I agree. “Which is why I need you back at theranch offices. All hands on deck. We don’t have time to waste.”
He studies me for a beat, then shakes his head. “I don’t love you being out there alone.”
“Ingram’s the mole,” I say quietly. “Or the problem at the center of it. Either way, he’s gone. And everyone left in that office still thinks I’m chasing Andy and spinning my wheels.”
He doesn’t interrupt, but he’s not convinced.
“This only works if we move fast,” I continue. “The longer GhostEye digs without warrants, the harder it’s going to be to keep this clean. Or at least defensible.”
That’s something he understands.
“All right,” he says finally. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll go back, see what they’ve already turned up.” His gaze sharpens. “Then I’ll come find you on patrol and update you in person.”
He is so damn protective. But I love it.
“That works,” I say. “I’m only out there four hours anyway.” I lean down and kiss him through the window.
He pulls away, and I watch until his taillights disappear, then turn toward my own vehicle.
I walk to the patrol SUV, unlock it, and slide inside. The engine hums to life beneath my hands. I settle into the seat, check my mirrors, and take a breath.
Everything feels normal. Routine. Predictable.
And thank God for that.
Today, normal is exactly what I need.
I pull out of the lot, heading toward the stretch of highway where I’ll be setting up traffic detail. The road is quiet, almost peaceful and the kind of stillness that usually soothes me settles across the dashboard. But something faint lingers beneath it—a tension I can’t quite shake.
My hand drifts briefly to my stomach. “Just a normal day,” I murmur.
