“We need more,” he said. “Concrete evidence.”
“Then let’s get it. We know they’re likely planning something for tonight. Let’s set up more surveillance on the luminook pens and catch them in the act.”
“And view the surveillance footage we set up at all entrances to the maintenance shed. Someone ordered that cage and they’ll be back for it.”
We spent the next hour planning the operation, with Dungar creating a detailed map of the area, marking optimal observation points with small Xs. I contributed suggestions on rotations and backup positions, drawing from my years of investigative experience.
“If we position ourselves here,” I pointed to a small ridge overlooking the pens, “we’ll have sight lines to all three access points. And your brothers can cover these areas.” I indicated the perimeter points we’d identified as vulnerable.
Dungar nodded, adding my suggestions to his map. “Perfect. We’ll need communication equipment. I have radio headsets with encrypted channels.”
“You’re always prepared.”
His expression softened, and he covered my hand with his.
“While we wait for nightfall, I want to dig deeper into Sillavar Research,” I said, reluctantly pulling my hand away. “Something about that name keeps nagging at me.”
Dungar cleared a space at the table, setting up his laptop. “What do you need?”
“Access to financial databases would be ideal, but I can work with public records for now.”
He pushed the laptop toward me. “I have subscriptions to several research databases through the sheriff’s office. Will those help?”
I couldn’t hold back a grin. “You really do think of everything.”
For the next several hours, I immersed myself in following the money. My years as a forensic accountant had honed my ability to see patterns in data that others might miss, to connect disparate pieces of information into a coherent whole. Dungar worked beside me, organizing equipment for the stakeout while occasionally glancing over to check my progress.
“Found something,” I finally said, sitting back as pieces clicked into place. “Sillavar Research is a biotech company specializing in revolutionary medical imaging technology.”
Dungar moved to stand behind me, his large frame radiating warmth against my back as he leaned down to see the screen. “What kind of imaging?”
“That’s where it gets interesting.” I scrolled through a press release dated three months ago. “They’re developing what they call a ‘groundbreaking bioluminescent compound’ for non-invasive diagnostics. According to this, it could revolutionize how doctors visualize tissues because it doesn’t need radiation or contrast agents.”
“Bioluminescent.” Dungar’s voice deepened. “Like the luminooks.”
“Exactly.” I clicked through to another page showinga corporate photo of smiling scientists in a state-of-the-art lab. “If they’re involved in whatever’s going on, they could be after the luminooks’ unique glowing properties. The genetic material could be worth millions in pharmaceutical applications.”
Dungar was quiet for a moment. “So we’re looking at corporate espionage, not some connection to your past?”
The relief in his voice mirrored what I felt. If this was about the luminooks themselves, not about me, then maybe I wasn’t putting everyone in danger by being here. Maybe the Blainsworth sonsdidn’tknow where I was hiding.
“It’s possible,” I said. “Though we can’t rule anything out completely yet.”
As we continued preparing for the stakeout, we moved in sync, anticipating each other’s needs without having to voice them. When I reached for a pen, Dungar was ready to set one in my hand. When he needed the topographical map, I’d already unfolded it to the correct section.
He handed me a mug of fresh coffee. I passed him the red marker right as he finished with the blue, knowing his color-coding system by heart now.
“You remembered I like the east vantage point,” he said when I marked it as his position on the stakeout map.
“Of course.” I glanced up to find him watching me, his dark eyes filled with something that made my heart stutter. “What?”
“Nothing.” He smiled, the expression transforming his usually serious face. “It’s just nice to be known.”
Wasn’t that what everyone wanted, deep down? And somehow, in the span of less than two weeks, this methodical, careful orc had come to know me better than people I’d been close to for years.
I knew him well. The way he tapped his pen three times before starting a new section of notes. How he arranged his equipment by size and function. The slight furrow that appeared between his brows when he was thinking. I’d cataloged these details without conscious thought, storing them away like treasures.
As afternoon faded to evening and we made our final preparations for the stakeout, I caught him watching me again. This time, the tenderness in his gaze couldn’t be missed, and it sent warmth rushing through me that had nothing to do with the coffee I’d been drinking.
