But my other one, where I hoped to find out more and discover that we’re not compatible, has been a complete failure.
The stars above us appear to blink on slowly, thensuddenly all at once, as if someone's turned on a switch. Out here, away from city lights, the Milky Way stretches across the heavens like spilled paint.
"I forgot what this looks like," Naomi says quietly. "In Virginia, I could never see this many stars."
Her lips are slightly parted as she looks up. Soft, pillowy kissable lips. I’ve seen stars. I’d much rather look at her.
She turns to look at me. I expect her to pull back, ask what I’m doing staring at her so intently. But she doesn’t. Her lips remain parted, her breathing deep, and her eyes drop down to my lips.
My head falls toward hers and I think hers lifts subtly toward mine, like we’re caught in our own gravitational pull like the stars above.
The phone buzzes in my pocket. Startled by the noise we both pull back.
I fish it out, seeing the text from Static.
29.8500N 100.9800W
Coordinates. He's found El Centinela.
"We have a location," I tell Naomi, showing her the screen. She nods solemnly as she processes what this means. Everything we've been running toward is suddenly real, tangible.
The volume is now turned up again, and the timer is ticking. I put the phone away.
There’s a dark void in my gut. I know what I can do. I know what I’m capable of. And I can’t let Naomi know just how much I’d be willing to sacrifice to keep her safe. But going up against what we’re up against, I can’t promise that it’s going to end how she wants it to. "I hope this turns out right," I say, my voice low against the quiet night. "But this ain't one of your romances. The good guys don't always win."
Naomi turns to me, her face half in shadow, halfilluminated by starlight. There's steel in her voice when she answers.
"My father used to say something when I'd get scared about the cases he worked on. He'd say, 'They only win when the good guys stop trying.'" She looks up at the stars again. "I don't think I really understood what he meant until now."
I want to believe her. Want to believe that simply showing up and fighting back is enough. But I've seen too much, done too much to have faith in simple solutions to corrupt systems.
"Your father sounds like a good man."
"He was," she says.
We settle into our makeshift bed in the truck, side by side but not touching. The night air grows colder, and I hear Naomi shiver slightly beside me.
I reach for her. Wrap my arms around her. But only to give her warmth.
My mind spins. Did I almost kiss her? Did she want to kiss me? It already feels like a false memory. Something off in the distance, dark and blurry that lets your eyes play tricks on you.
No, I can’t hold her because I want her. I can’t kiss her. And she couldn’t possibly want to kiss me. A man like me can’t be with someone like her.
I stare up at the endless stars, feeling the weight of all my sins between us. There ain't enough hope in all the heavens for that.
Sixteen
Logan
Logan Black parks on the side of the highway, cutting the engine with a sharp twist. The vast desert landscape stretches before him, flat and unforgiving. He steps out, scanning the horizon with practiced precision, feeling the familiar itch that tells him he's still on the right path.
After three days of tracking, the trail's grown colder. If Logan weren’t as good as he is, it would have disappeared entirely. Since the motel, they've been ghosts. No clean footage, no clear sightings.
But what bothers Logan most is not just how skillfully they’re hiding their tracks.
It’s how they’re moving.
The rhythm is all wrong.
