“You were brave,” he said quietly.
A flush climbed her neck. “You already said that.”
“I’m going to keep saying it until it sinks in,” he replied.
His phone buzzed against the table. The screen flashed Diaz’s name.
He swiped to answer. “Sergeant.”
“James,” Diaz said. In the background, he could hear the low murmur of a station. “You got a minute?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at the others. “We’re at Dockside. What’s up?”
“Short version, we’ve got confirming chatter that Eisen’s supplier is not happy their product got yanked off the track,” Diaz said. “One of our neighboring departments picked up talk at a regional race about ‘the guy who ratted.’ No names, but the description’s close enough to you that I’m not calling it a coincidence.”
Hank’s hand tightened around his mug. “Is he in this region?”
“Probably not yet,” she said. “But he has friends who are. I’m not telling you this to freak you out; I’m telling you so you keep your head on a swivel. Awareness, not paranoia. You understand the difference.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m talking with the mayor about fast-tracking security cameras around the Bay Street block,” Diaz went on. “If you move forward with that warehouse, I want your exterior covered. I’ll connect you with a guy I trust. No junk equipment.”
Bree watched his face, worry flickering in her eyes. Hank reached for her hand under the table and squeezed once.
“We were already talking security with Jason and the mayor,” he said. “We’ll loop your guy in.”
“Good.” Paper rustled. “If you see anyone hanging around that doesn’t fit, get me a plate if you can. Don’t play hero at the warehouse, James. You already did that once.”
“I hear you.”
She exhaled. “I’ll pass along anything else that crosses my desk. For now, finish your coffee. Enjoy your victory. Let us do our jobs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He ended the call.
“Well?” Brian asked.
Hank relayed the gist. Brian’s easy grin vanished; Colby went still.
“So we’re officially on somebody’s list,” Brian said.
“We were already on it,” Hank said. “This just means Diaz knows the list exists.”
Bree’s fingers tightened on his. “Does this change anything?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “It changes how fast I want to get cams on that building. It changes how often I want you walking alone.”
Her jaw set. “I don’t want to live like a target.”
“You’re not a target,” he said. “You’re a witness who helped stop something lethal. That’s going to irritate people who think they’re untouchable. I’m not saying we board up the windows. I’m saying we make it harder for them to cause trouble without consequences.”
She looked down at their joined hands, thumb rubbing along his knuckles. “You’re falling into Marine brain,” she said softly.
“Probably,” he admitted. “Hard to shake. But Marine brain kept a lot of people alive. I’d like to put it to work here.”
Colby cleared his throat. “I’m with him on this,” he said. “We can design the shop so it feels open and still leaves us control of the entry points. Cameras, alarms, smart locks. None of that has to be ugly.”
