“Ben.” He stepped closer, studying my face with exaggerated concern. “In seven years of friendship, you have never once expressed interest in any beverage that wasn’t black coffee or bourbon. And now you want to discusslemon ginger tea?”
“I don’t want to discuss anything. Drop it.”
“This is about a woman.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s absolutely about a woman.” His eyes cut to thewindow, to the light next door. The grin spreading across his face was insufferable. “Wait. The neighbor? The pretty one with the son?”
I said nothing.
“The one whose kid you tried to arrest for destroying your fence?”
“I didn’t try to arrest—” Fucking shit, damn it. “I don’t know why I told you about that. And I apologized.”
“Over tea?”
“We ran into each other at a coffee shop. She was working, I was getting coffee, we talked for a few minutes. That’s it.”
“And she was drinking lemon ginger tea.” Donovan was enjoying this far too much. “And you noticed. And you remembered. And just now, looking at her window, you thought about it and felt compelled to bring it up.” He put a hand over his heart. “Ben Garrison has a crush.”
“I don’t have fucking crushes. I’m thirty-four.”
“Grown men absolutely have crushes. They just don’t usually reveal them through unprompted beverage confessions.”
“Get out of my house.”
He grabbed his jacket, still grinning. “This is the best development in weeks. Months, maybe.”
“Goodbye, Donovan.”
He was halfway to the door when my phone rang.
I checked the screen. Vance.
The grin faded from Donovan’s face. He turned back, reading my expression.
“Garrison,” I answered.
“Ben.” Vance’s voice was taut, controlled. “We’ve got another raid opportunity. Different location, fresh intel that came in about twenty minutes ago. We’re staging in forty-five.”
“Same team?”
“Smaller. Just the entry element. You and Donovan want in, you need to move now.”
I looked at Donovan. He was already reaching for his gear bag by the door.
“Send the coordinates,” I said. “We’re in.”
“Already done.”
The line went dead.
Another raid. Another chance for the leak to tip off the targets. If this one went sideways too, we’d know the corruption ran through the tactical team.
And if it didn’t—if we actually caught someone—we’d have a whole new set of questions to answer.
Donovan met my eyes. Neither of us said what we were both thinking: everyone on tonight’s entry team had a photo on that wall. And until we figured out who the leak was, none of them could be fully trusted.
