His breath hitched.
Bree.
She stood just inside the Red Dragons’ tape line, that soft blue sundress from the café swapped for fitted jeans and a pale shirt that made her eyes look almost turquoise from this distance. Her hair was pulled up in a messy knot, sunglasses perched on her head. She held her sketchbook against her chest, fingers tight on the spiral edge.
Carmen stood beside her, talking, one hand moving as if she were explaining something. On Carmen’s other side, a woman in fire-engine red shorts, four-inch heels, and tanned legs perched on a stool, crossing and uncrossing those legs like she knew exactly who was watching.
Heidi, Hank guessed.
His chest went tight.
“What the hell,” he muttered.
Brian followed his line of sight. “Uh-oh.”
“Don’t start,” Hank said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Colby closed the laptop and stood. “You’re not really surprised, are you? Carmen’s sister works their pit. Of course, she’d drag Bree over there.”
“She didn’t drag her,” Hank said. “Bree’s standing there just fine on her own.”
And she was. She looked a little unsure, but she wasn’t backing away. Marcus stepped closer, shaking Carmen’s hand, leaning in to say something. Heidi’s laugh cut through the distance, high and breathy, as she tossed her hair over one shoulder.
Bree’s mouth tightened.
Good, he thought savagely. She can see for herself what kind of circus that is.
Marcus turned toward Bree. Even from across the pits, Hank saw the way Marcus’s gaze swept down her body and back up; saw the way he adjusted his posture, shoulders back, chin up, smile turned on full wattage.
Hank’s hands curled into fists.
“Easy,” Colby said.
“I’m just watching,” Hank replied.
“Your jaw says otherwise,” Brian added.
Marcus said something, and Bree shook her head, a small, firm motion. Carmen shifted, putting herself slightly more between them. Heidi swung one long leg, crossing it over the other, and rested her elbow on her knee in a pose that screamed Look at me.
Marcus didn’t. His attention stayed locked on Bree.
That was enough.
Hank grabbed a rag from the table, wiped his hands, and started walking.
“Here he goes,” Brian said quietly behind him.
Colby’s sigh followed. “Sam’s on duty. If this turns into a thing, at least we know who’s going to be writing the report.”
Hank ignored them. The distance between the pits felt longer than usual, each step punctuated by the roar of an engine or the clang of a dropped tool. He kept his pace even, his expression neutral. The last thing he needed was to look like he was charging in.
He wasn’t her keeper.
He just didn’t like seeing her in the middle of a pack of wolves.
By the time he reached the edge of the Red Dragons’ taped boundary, he’d smoothed the worst of the heat out of his tone.
