“She’s in trouble. The kind of trouble the FBI can’t handle through official channels.”
He dragged his gaze from the photo to the woman beside him. “The Feds have more than enough resources.”
“Not the kind I have.” She paused. “Correction. Not like you and Ibothhave.”
What the hell did she want from him? “I’m retired.”
“You’re thirty-three years old and drinking yourself to death in Montana.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “That’s not retirement. That’s surrender.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Garrett looked away, back to Claire’s photo. FBI agent—she’d made something of herself. Built a career hunting predators.
Just like he had. “Why are you showing me this?”
Dr. Montgomery pulled out more photographs. Crime scene photos. Three women, all brunette, all with similar features.
All dead.
“Claire is being stalked,” she said quietly. “The pattern matches these three victims. All were contacted by the stalker weeks before they were killed. All were taunted. All died within days after the final message.”
Garrett’s tactical mind engaged despite his resistance. He studied the photos, seeing what the psychologist wanted him to see. The similarities. The escalation. The methodical patience of a predator who planned every move.
These women looked like Claire. One of them could have been her.
His knuckles had gone white on the edge of the bar.
“FBI has behavioral analysts,” he said, his voice rougher than it should be. “Protective details.”
“They’re protecting her. Officially. By the book.” Dr. Montgomery tapped one of the crime scene photos. “This predator isn’t playing by that book. He’s organized, patient, and he’s been watching Claire for months. Maybe years.”
“What makes you think I can stop him?”
“Because you’ve done it before. Without permission. Without rules.” She tapped the Colombia photo. “You hunt monsters, Garrett. That’s what you’re good at.”
“I’m done hunting.”
“Are you?” She held his gaze. “Or are you just hiding?”
Jake set her water in front of her and disappeared again, sensing the tension radiating from Garrett. Smart man.
Claire’s serious blue eyes stared at him from the photo. She was professional. Composed. Nothing like the terrified fourteen-year-old he remembered.
But somewhere behind that FBI agent’s mask, she was still CJ. Still Lily’s best friend and the girl who’d fought a killer with a broken arm and survived.
“Tell me about Shadow Force International,” he said.
If Dr. Montgomery was surprised he knew the name, she didn’t show it. She did seem to choose her words carefully. “We handle private security and intelligence operations for clients who need discretion.”
“Private military.”
“That’s the public face.” She straightened slightly. “My branch, Shadow Point Security, is different. It’s a new unit within SFI. We specialize in domestic threats—predators that law enforcement can’t shut down fast enough. Serial killers. Stalkers. Traffickers. The monsters hiding in plain sight.”
“Vigilante justice.”
“Preemptive, you might say. Justice that gets results.” She met his eyes. “You believe in that. You proved it in Colombia.”
“And it cost me my career.”
“I’m offering you a new one. One where doing the right thing doesn’t get you court-martialed.” She pulled a white business card from her pocket and set it on top of Claire’s photo. “I need a tactical commander for Shadow Point. Someone who understands how predators think. Someone who won’t hesitate to cross lines when necessary.”
