Jade crossed her arms.“The real problem exists beyond Diaz.Take one man out, three more pop up.”
“Could be.”I leaned against the wall.“We pull this weed anyway.The yard stays cleaner for a while.”
She snorted and shook her head.“You and your gardening metaphors.”
“Would you prefer sports?”I asked.“Because I know you don’t watch baseball.”
“I absolutely do not.”Jade tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.“Jason tried to convert me once.I fell asleep during the third inning.”
“Wait till I tell Half Pint.Your confession will crush her soul.”
She bumped my arm with her shoulder.“You deliver bad news at your own risk.I prefer living.”
“Come on,” I said.“We have somewhere to be.”
She blinked.“We do?”
“You forgot?”I put a hand to my chest, offended.“I’m hurt.Deeply.”
She frowned, searching her memory.
Then realization dawned.
“The library,” she said.
I nodded.“I promised you a date without a safe room, storm cellar, or corpse.”
Her eyebrows rose.“Prez said we’re still on lockdown.”
“We are.Nobody goes out alone.Nobody takes the highway without backup.”I gestured toward the window.“The library stands three blocks away and shares a fence with our back lot.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”I leaned closer.“You missed books.I swore to fix this problem.They remain open until eight, which gives us two hours before Marci lectures us about vegetables again.”
Her smile unfolded slow as sunrise.“You asked Atilla?”
“Got his blessing at lunch.”I crossed my arms.“Prospects will patrol the fence.General knows the librarian well.No bikes, no romantic sunset rides -- we walk across the field.”
Her throat worked visibly.
“You good?”
“I’m…” She laughed, voice unsteady.“Yeah.Yes.I want this.”
I pointed toward the hallway.“Grab your boots.Prez made clear nobody crosses the fence in socks.”
The sky had gone soft by the time we cut across the back lot.A few clouds hung low, brushed pink and gold where the sun slid toward the horizon.The air felt neither hot nor cold -- suspended between seasons, between moments.
The fence at the far edge backed up to a narrow strip of grass, then ran into a chain-link boundary marking the library’s property.A locked gate connected them.
Prospect Jimmy stood watch, keys looped through his fingers.He scanned the tree line with nervous intensity, as though Diaz might materialize from behind any pine at any second.
“You’re clear,” he said as we approached.“Nobody on the cameras.No weird cars.”
“You keep your phone on you,” Kane said.“You see so much as a squirrel blinking wrong, you text me.”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said.He unlocked the gate and pushed it open.
