“What did you expect?”
He considered the question seriously. “A simple investigation. Surge-related incidents, standard containment protocols, back to San Francisco within two weeks.” His gaze found hers. Held it. “I didn’t expect any of this.”
Any of thiscould mean a lot of things. The sabotage. The conspiracy. The complicated, confusing, increasingly undeniable thing happening between them every time they occupied the same space.
Junie chose to interpret it safely. “Welcome to Haven Shores. Where simple doesn’t exist and containment protocols are suggestions at best.”
“So I’m learning.”
Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable. Charged. Heavy with things neither of them was saying.
Glimmer, who’d been suspiciously quiet since Leo started helping, raised her head and tasted the air. She didn’t hiss.
Junie wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“The book,” Leo said finally. “Tell me about the encoded entries.”
She sighed, sinking onto an overturned crate because her legs refused to hold her anymore. “There are maybe thirty pages throughout the book where my grandmother used some kind of cipher. Different from her regular handwriting. More deliberate.” She rubbed her face with her bandaged hands. “I always assumed they were experimental formulations. Things too dangerous or valuable to write plainly.”
“And you never cracked the code?”
“I tried. For years. I’m good at puzzles, but this was—” She shook her head. “My grandmother was brilliant. Whatever cipher she used, it died with her.”
Leo crouched in front of her, bringing his face level with hers. This close, she could see the individual flecks of amber in his eyes. Could smell him—expensive cologne layered over a deeper, wilder scent that made Glimmer’s scales ripple.
“We’ll find the book,” he said. “And when we do, I have resources. Code-breakers. Analysts. People who specialize in exactly this kind of problem.”
“Why would you?—”
“Because the encoded entries might be why they stole it.” His jaw was set rigid. “Someone knows what’s in those pages. Someone who wanted the information badly enough to burn through your wards and drain your ley line to get it.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to her. She’d been so focused on her grandmother’s memory, on the personal violation of losing Rosalind’s book, that she hadn’t considered why someone might specifically want it.
“You think they targeted the book,” she said slowly. “Not the shop.”
“I think whoever’s behind Sable Acquisitions is playing a longer game than simple property acquisition.” Leo’s voice went hard. “The ley line intersections. The encoded recipes. There’s a pattern they’re trying to complete. A goal.”
“And my grandmother’s book is part of it.”
“Maybe.” He reached out, and for a breathless moment Junie thought he might touch her. But he adjusted a loose strand of her hair—tucking it behind her ear with a gentleness that made her breath hitch.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I promise.”
She should make a joke. Should deflect, distract, do any of the thousand things she normally did when people got too close to the soft parts of her.
But she was too tired. Too raw. Too aware of how much she wanted to believe him.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
Leo stood, offering his hand to help her up. She took it without thinking, and when his fingers closed around hers—strong and surprisingly calloused for a businessman—her heart gave a traitorous stutter.
Trust. Dangerous and unexpected.
Wyatt emerged from the basement, his expression grim. “I’ve got what I need. The siphoning array is identical to one used at Piprick’s shop back in May. Same signature, same methodology. We’re definitely looking at a coordinated operation.”
“Sable Acquisitions,” Leo said.
“Most likely.” Wyatt nodded toward the street. “I’m going to need a full statement from you, Junie. And Castellan, I want everything you have on these shell companies.”
