“Agreed.” Agent Norrs stood. “I should warn you that Rivers is pretty pissed off about the entire situation.”
Laurel frowned. “What’s the logic in that?”
“The logic?” Agent Norrs echoed, his brows drawn.
“Yes,” Laurel said. “There’s a sniper. We will find him. Getting angry doesn’t serve anything.”
Agent Norrs stared at her for a long moment, his eyes assessing. “You’re an interesting one, Snow. I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you?” Being thought of as interesting or even odd wasn’t anything new to her.
“Anytime.” Agent Norrs exhaled and adjusted his stance. “I think we should put a protective detail on you. Two agents from Seattle. Your office is too small to handle this.”
“No.” Laurel held up a hand. “I don’t want a detail. I have a job to do, and so do you. Find him.”
Agent Norrs nodded, his mouth tight. “I won’t stop until I do. I promise.”
Laurel stood, pushing back from the table and heading toward the door. As she shoved through the heavy wooden door and into the narrow hallway, the storm’s growl intensified, rumbling through the walls like a distant, restless animal.
The Fish and Wildlife lobby was dim, the old fluorescent lights buzzing faintly as they fought against the natural darkness pressing in from outside.
Huck waited in the far corner of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Abigail stood a few paces away, her posture graceful and loose, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the peeling paint and faded wildlife posters.
Both of them were silent. Too silent.
Walter and Nester had left after delivering their reports—brusque, tired exchanges with little patience for pleasantries. The entire place felt hollow, stripped of its usual bustling life by the severity of the storm and the sheer audacity of the attack.
Laurel’s gaze went first to Huck. His jaw was clenched so hard she half expected his molars to crack. His shoulders were locked under the gray shirt, muscles bunched tight, fists pressed to his biceps like it was the only thing stopping him from breaking something—or someone.
“Rivers,” Laurel said, her voice cutting through the silence.
His gaze snapped to her, eyes dark and fierce. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.” She met his gaze, refusing to let the storm of his emotions throw her off-balance. “Just finished with the deputy director and Agent Norrs.”
“Good. I secured your window upstairs with a couple of boards we had in the basement. This guy is getting reckless and desperate.” Huck’s voice was low and rough, threaded with an anger he barely bothered to hide.
Good. That just meant the shooter would make a mistake. Soon.
Abigail Caine turned down the heated seat in Wayne’s truck and settled back, her body sinking into the rich leather. The warmth seeped through her coat, chasing away the chill from the storm outside. Rain pummeled the truck’s roof, and the windshield wipers slapped in frantic rhythm, struggling to clear the rain that sheeted down the glass.
Wayne drove with both hands firm on the wheel, his gaze fixed forward, his jaw clenched in that determined way she found so amusing. It was a long drive back to her high-end subdivision, and he was taking the winding roads with far more care than necessary. She supposed it was his nature to play things safe. It probably had something to do with his job. He had to be serious and cautious as if he thought the entire world was one wrong move away from crumbling beneath his feet.
They’d been driving in silence for miles. Wayne’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel—offbeat and restless. Abigail watched tension climb up his spine, the way his shoulders locked and his throat moved like he was choking on words. Any minute now. She could feel it. He’d grow a fucking pair and spit it out.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Abby, don’t get mad at me, but I think you should stay away from your sister for a while.”
There it was. Exactly what she’d been expecting. Abigail opened her eyes wide, feigning surprise. “Wayne, how can I do that? She’s my sister. Someone’s trying to kill her. I can’t leave her alone. She’s myyoungersister.” Her voice cracked perfectly with just the right blend of anguish and conviction. She enjoyed baiting him, enjoyed watching him try to console her with all the finesse of a lumbering bear. He could be so damn predictable.
“I know, honey.” His voice was rough, strained. “But she’s in danger, and it would just kill me if anything happened to you.”
She’d expected him to call her sweetheart, not honey. The mistake pricked at her like a splinter beneath the skin. Was she losing her edge? That wouldn’t do. She forced a tremor into her voice. “I appreciate your concern, but family is what matters, right?”
He flushed under the pale light from the dashboard, the ruddy color creeping up his neck. He made the turn toward her gated community, tires splashing through fresh puddles. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry.” His voice dropped lower, thick with guilt. “I didn’t catch the guy tonight, but I will. I promise you. I’m not going to let anything happen to your sister. Or to you.”
She bit back a smile. Laurel could take care of herself. Abigail had no doubt about that, and she’d never forget the way Laurel tackled her to protect her. She did feel sisterly toward Abigail but just couldn’t admit it. But Wayne was so determined to prove his worth, so desperate to be the one who saved the day. She could almost taste his insecurity, sweet and sharp on the back of her tongue.
Every once in a while, Norrs became so predictable that Abigail thought about slitting his throat as he slept, just to relieve the tedium. But he still had his uses. So, for now, he lived. She reached over and took his hand, sliding her fingers over his calloused palm. “I always feel safe with you.”
