“Friend of yours,” Brian asked quietly, following his gaze.
“Doubt it,” Hank said. “Probably a lawyer late for yelling practice.”
Colby snorted.
On the sidewalk outside, Sergeant Diaz waited, hands tucked into her jacket pockets. She looked strangely at home against the rough brick.
“Officer,” Hank greeted. “You slumming it?”
She raised a brow. “Says the guy shopping for fixer-uppers in the industrial district.”
Bree joined them, brushing dust off her jeans. Diaz’s gaze sharpened for a moment, as if noting her and filing the information away. Then her posture eased again.
“You kids having fun?” she asked.
“We’re making spreadsheets in our heads,” Bree said. “That’s my idea of a wild afternoon.”
Diaz’s mouth quirked. “You picked an interesting time to consider putting down roots.”
Hank sobered. “What’s the latest?”
“We processed Einstein and his statement,” she said. “He claims a contact approached the team months ago with ‘performance solutions.’ Says the guy’s name is Vic, no last name, no business card. Meetups in parking lots, cash transactions. You know the type.”
Brian’s tone flattened. “Real reputable fellow.”
“He described the kit, though,” Diaz continued. “Materials, install time, price point. It matches rumors I’ve heard out of other regional series. Same style bottle. Same horn trigger. We’re looking at a supplier who’s been doing this a while.”
“Any idea where he’s based?” Hank asked.
“We’ve got a few leads,” Diaz said. “Nothing I can share yet. Just know this. You didn’t just catch one dirty team. You stepped into the middle of somebody’s income stream. That puts you, and anyone close to you, on their radar.”
A cool thread slid down Hank’s spine. He glanced at Bree; she stood very still, jaw tight, but her eyes were steady.
“We can handle attention,” Hank said. “We have before.”
“I figured,” Diaz said. “Still. Watch your backs. You see that sedan again, or anybody asking weird questions about tech, you call me. Direct.”
She handed him a card. He slid it into his pocket.
“You have a lot of those out there?” he asked.
“More than I like,” she said. “It’s a small town. I intend to keep it that way instead of letting it become a cautionary tale.”
She tipped two fingers in a casual salute, then moved off toward her cruiser.
Bree watched her go. “She’s scary,” she said. “In a reassuring way.”
“That’s the best kind,” Hank said. “Keeps people honest.”
He slid an arm around her shoulders and felt her lean into him, light and warm.
“You still in?” he asked quietly. “Knowing that whoever ran this little black-market speed shop isn’t thrilled with us.”
“Do they know my name?” she asked.
“Not from me,” he said.
“Then I’m in,” she said. “Besides, Einsteins of the world don’t get to scare me back into a life that’s already too small.”
