Garrett leaned forward. “You sure about that?”
That stopped her. She wasn’t sure—he could see it in her eyes. If there was a breach at the FBI, the killer might know she was here.
The briefest flicker of fear flashed across her face. He felt like a dick.
As he walked to her and gestured for her to give him her shoe, he softened his voice. “Work with Dr. Montgomery on the profile. I’ll coordinate with your SAC on any leads. You want to hunt the Countdown Killer? Fine. But we do it smart.”
Claire studied him for a long moment, slipping her shoe back on when he handed it to her. “You’ve done this before.”
“I’ve protected high-value targets in hostile environments. You’re no different.”
“Flattering.”
“Wasn’t meant to be.” The corner of his mouth almost twitched.
Vivi stood. “Wolf, perhaps you could show Agent Dawson the compound security features and get her some lunch? We can regroup at two.”
Claire nodded. “Sounds good.” She started packing up her computer, then stopped and stretched. Sighed. “Lead the way, Wolf.”
The codename felt like armor. Safe. She couldn’t trace Wolf to Bobby. Couldn’t connect the dots between her new bodyguard’s callsign and an eighteen-year-old kid at his sister’s funeral.
But every time she said it, something in his chest tightened.
The compound tour took them through the building’s three levels. Garrett showed her the command center with its wall of monitors and secure communications. The armory, which made her eyebrows rise slightly—impressive even by FBI standards. The training facility where he’d been running drills since dawn, trying to work off the nervous energy of knowing he’d see her today. It had also given him time with his team—Lynx, Grizzly, and Hawk—to brief them on the assignment.
“It’s quite impressive,” she observed.
“This team is made up of people who understand how to hunt predators outside the system. Lynx handles our surveillance and cyber security—if the Countdown Killer tries to track you digitally, he'll know. Grizzly manages perimeter defense and close protection. Hawk provides overwatch and long-range reconnaissance. Between the four of us and Dr. Montgomery's psychological expertise, you're covered from every angle.”
“Vigilantes.”
“Operators who get results when bureaucracy gets in the way.” He glanced at her. “You became an FBI agent to catch killers. Sometimes the system isn’t fast enough.”
“The system has rules for a reason.”
“The system is supposed to protect the innocent. Sometimes it protects the guilty.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Everyone here has been burned. Each operator—even the doctor—is motivated to stop predators from hurting the innocent. You can call us whatever you want, but if you heard our stories, you’d understand.”
Her jaw tightened. Point made.
They ended up outside, overlooking the mountains. The September day was cool and clear. The vast Montana landscape spread out before them, mighty and indifferent.
“It’s beautiful here,” Claire said quietly.
“Different from D.C.”
“Everything’s different from D.C.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I should be there. Working my case.”
“You are working it. Just from here.”
“While other agents do the actual investigating.”
Garrett studied her profile. The frustration. The helplessness. He knew that feeling. Had lived it for eighteen months, drinking himself into numbness in Montana because he couldn’t fix what he’d broken in Colombia.
“Your job is to stay alive long enough to see him caught,” he said.
“That’s what my SAC said.”
“Smart man.”
