He chuckled. “Right—worried—not something else.”
“Maybe a little something else.” She turned to face him, and in the dim light filtering from Dawson's vehicle, he could see the mud streaked across her cheek, the loose strands of hair clinging to her neck, the steady calm in her eyes. “I’m not leaving until the cops take off, and I’ll decide then if you’re really okay—you just had another loss.”
"She was just a gator," he said, and hated how hollow the words sounded. "People kill gators all the time. It's?—"
"Not to you." Dove's hand found his hand in the darkness, her fingers threading through his. "You raised her. You named her. You loved her. And some asshole shot her because she got in his way." Her grip tightened. "That matters. Your grief matters."
Trent stared at their joined hands. He couldn't remember the last time someone had held his hand and it meant something. Anyone other than Fallon, anyway. "My mom used to say that the measure of a man wasn't how he treated people," he said quietly. "It was how he treated the things that couldn't fight back. Animals. Kids. The land." He swallowed. “Technically, Bonnie could fight back. But, she didn't even know she was supposed to, and she didn’t stand a chance against a gun.”
Dove stepped closer, rising on her toes, and pressed her lips to his cheek. Soft. Brief. More comfort than kiss. "We're going to find out who did this," she said against his skin. "And when we do, they're going to wish they'd never set foot on your land." She pulled back but didn't let go of his hand. "Come on," she said. "Let's get you inside. I'll pour us a drink. You'll make that list. And tomorrow, we start hunting."
Trent looked back toward the water one last time. He couldn't see Bonnie's body from here, but he knew it was there. Floating in the shallows. But there was nothing he could do for her now.
He let Dove lead him across the bridge toward the house, her hand still wrapped around his.
The night had taken something from him. But it had reminded him of something, too.
He wasn't alone. Even when he wanted to be.
And whoever had come onto his land tonight—whoever had killed Bonnie and disappeared into the dark—they'd made a mistake.
They'd given him another thing to fight for.
Chapter Five
Dove leaned against the doorframe of Trent's kitchen, phone pressed to her ear, watching through the screen door as red and blue lights painted the cypress trees in alternating strokes of color.
It was past midnight, and the swamp had gone quiet except for the occasional splash from the moat and the low murmur of voices carrying across the yard. Trent stood at the edge of the bridge with Dawson and Chloe, his shoulders rigid, his hands shoved in his pockets. Even from here, she could see the tension coiled in his body.
"Start from the beginning," her uncle said.
So she did, using the same tone she'd used for after-action reports in the Army. Facts, not feelings. Feelings could come later, when she wasn't standing in the middle of a house that felt like ghosts lived in it.
It was like a museum to those who were no longer here. It wasn't the pictures that lined the walls. Those were normal things. It was the fact that the first time she set foot in this house, Trent had pointed out everything that had belonged to his father. The chair he made. His favorite fleece blanket that was still tucked under the coffee table. However, what stood out today was that his mother’s cardigan was still draped over the back of the couch as if she’d gone to the pub for a night with her friends and forgotten it, like she’d done nearly every time. The faint smell of lavender still lingered in the air.
She watched Trent shake Dawson's hand, watched Chloe squeeze Trent's arm before heading back to her vehicle. Dove straightened against the doorframe. “Tell me about Gulf Coast Energy Partners and Trent’s father.”
“It was a layered trial. The CEO of the company, Edward Kirk, was indicted on bribery, racketeering, and money laundering, to name a few. Not to mention one of his associates was accused of murder. The DA had them, but then key evidence was burned in a fire. A witness recanted. Another died. Jack’s testimony alone wasn’t enough, and everyone knew it. While the DA was assessing what to do, Jack and I were T-boned. The case died after that. The DA tried to rebuild. The feds watched the players, the company, and especially Kirk and his associates but could never find anything to bring charges against them.”
Through the screen door, Dove watched Dawson's cruiser pull away, followed by Chloe's SUV. The taillights faded into the trees, leaving only darkness and the yellow glow from the porch light.
“You've never talked about the case that nearly killed you. Why did you all of a sudden just spill so much?”
“Because you asked, and I can tell it matters to you.”
“Bullshit.” Dove knew her uncle well enough to know that not only was there more, but she wasn't so sure he was going to tell her the whole truth. “Is Sovereign Resources the real reason you're here?”
“No, my visit was totally social. I wanted to see how my favorite niece was settling in.” Slade's voice softened with that sweet timber he had when he’d been there through all the fucked-up missions. “But, since I’m here, and this all feels very familiar, with the mining company, yeah, I want to stick around for that town meeting and see who the players are. But if you’d rather not have me underfoot for that long, I can get a room at Harvey's Cabins.”
"You can stay as long as you like, but I honestly don’t believe you. And while we’re at it, I’d like the names of those who were involved twenty years ago, and I’ll do some cross-referencing between the current board of directors and those who were on the Gulf Coast. Same with the directory log of employees.”
“I can help you with that while I’m here.”
“I won't say no to that offer.” Dove rubbed her eyes with her free hand. The adrenaline from earlier had long since faded, leaving behind the bone-deep exhaustion that always followed a firefight. “Why do you want to speak with Trent?”
“I wanted to give him my condolences for his mom, proper like. The bar wasn’t the place to do it. And I honestly just wanted to connect with him. Jack wasn’t just a job to me. He became my friend.”
“Trent might not be too receptive.” Dove watched Trent start back toward the house, his boots heavy on the wooden bridge. In the moat below, something large shifted in the water, and she suppressed a shudder. "Seeing you tonight affected him deeply. He’s a little on edge with everything that happened, and he’s concerned about other things.”
