Donovan held his gaze for a long second, then gave a slow, measured nod. “Just don’t get in my way.”
Elvis’s mouth twitched without humor. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He stepped outside, the night air cool against his skin, the weight of what he’d just admitted settling deeper in his chest.
Then he moved off the porch to walk the perimeter of the property, his steps quiet and his senses sharp. As he walked, he cataloged shadows, memorized sightlines, and marked places where sound traveled differently beneath his boots. He hadn’t lied to the marshal when he told him of Callen’s traps, but the men who went after Callen and Meaghan had triggered most of them. And now that he knew the rest were there, he knew what to keep an eye out for.
The forest pressed close around the cabin, dense and watchful, branches knitting overhead like ribs. Somewhere in the distance, something rustled through underbrush, and Elvis paused long enough to determine it was an animal and not human.
Satisfied that everything was all right, he headed back toward the cabin, but just as he reached the porch steps, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He paused long enough to pull his phone out, noticed Blaze’s name on the screen, and swiped to answer.
“What’s up, Hound Dog?”
“Please tell me you weren’t asleep,” the younger man said, voice low but charged with an energy that told Elvis the kid was probably on his third energy drink. “I forgot you all are an hour ahead of us when I called.”
“Well, if I was, you just ruined it. I take it you have something for me?”
A soft exhale crackled through the line, followed by the faint clicking of Blaze tapping on his computer. “I’ve been running patterns off the Gulf Coast chatter since you left Biloxi, looking into things tied to Serrano’s shell accounts. It’s messy, but there’smovement.”
“Define movement.”
“Mobile. Gulfport. Pensacola. Small cells. Two, maybe three at a time. Nothing loud, mind you. No big plays to mention. It’s more just positioning, getting things ready, digging into the search. And it all lines up with the pings on her name. They know she’s here. Or at least that she was.”
“So he’s casting a wider net, hoping to turn up something.”
“Looks that way. The good news is they don’t know where she is yet, only that she’s resurfaced.”
Elvis dragged a hand across his jaw, eyes tracing the tree line again. The cabin sat quiet behind him, Delaney probably still in the shower, Abe asleep, and the marshal watching the doors and probably still staring at the fire.
He sighed as he leaned on the porch railing. “So now that they’ve found her, they won’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. If anything, they’ll dig even deeper.”
“All right. Keep digging. Let me know if anything changes or if you hear chatter showing they’ve picked up our trail.”
“You got it. I’m also creating some false trails. Dropping hints that she went northwest. See if that’ll buy you some time.”
“You always were my favorite genius,” Elvis said with a chuckle.
“I won’t let Tex know you said that. Talk soon.” And then the line went dead.
When he finally stepped back inside, Delaney was already asleep, curled on the right side of the bed with her knees drawnup, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, and her dark hair spilling across the pillow. The lamp beside the bed cast a soft light over her face, and for a moment he just stood there, chest tightening at the sight of her.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years of not knowing if she was even alive.
Of imagining her in crowds, in passing cars, in dreams that ended the same way every time—with her turning away just before he could reach her.
He shook his head and pulled the door closed, returning to the main room where Donovan had found the whiskey bottle and had already poured a glass.
“If you want, take one of the other beds in the room with Abe,” he told the marshal. “I’ll take first watch and wake you when it’s your turn.”
“You sure?”
Elvis nodded. “Yeah. Kind of too wired to sleep right now, anyway.”
The marshal nodded and then made his way to the second bedroom. “Don’t forget to wake me.” And then he was gone.
