“You’re going to get bored and order delivery,” Wren said, grinning, “forgetting that your credit card is connected to the delivery app.”
“Oh. Clever,” Sylvie murmured, her eyes lighting in appreciation.
I shook my head. “He’s not going to fall for that.”
“He will,” Wren said, “because you two will actually be there.”
Even now that it was happening, my initial reaction offuck noreared back up. Every cell in my body rejected that idea. I wanted to grab Sylvie and lock her in the safe house for, I don’t know, the rest of our lives. Every reasonable thought I had told me that was a no-go. Didn’t matter. Sylvie would be safe. But I was outvoted before I could make my case.
“We can cover you,” Ryder said, looking to Miranda, who nodded soberly. “If you pick the right spot, it won’t be dangerous.”
“Unless he tries to blow the place up again,” Maddox rumbled. “We’ll see him coming in.”
“We have a location,” Cooper said. “It’s a rental run by friends. We’ve used it once or twice and have a good handle on the defenses. I’ll check and see if it’s open.”
Cooper tapped in the messaging app on his phone, and a minute later got a positive response.
“All right, we’ve got it,” he said. “It’ll be empty in two days. That give you enough time to lay the rest of your breadcrumbs?” he asked Wren.
“Plenty,” she agreed.
I wasn’t happy, but as Cooper had pointed out, Sylvie needed her life back. And the only way to give her that was to neutralize this guy. We were done playing defense.
“Are you good with this?” he’d asked Sylvie.
And fuck me, but she’d nodded, grinning in anticipation. I loved her courage. I just wished I could turn it off now and then.
All of our planning led us to this cute little cottage that was walking distance to restaurants and shopping, with flowers on the porch, starched curtains in the windows—and my team scattered around the small lot, hidden in the darkness. A one-bedroom space with a small living room/kitchen area, a bathroom with a claw-foot tub, and a bedroom so small it held only the king-size bed.
There were eyes everywhere, and still, I didn’t like it.
“You ready?” Sylvie asked me, standing in the kitchen, looking at her phone screen. “What should I order?”
“Burgers,” I responded immediately. “There’s a great burger place a few blocks away.”
I took her phone and pulled the restaurant up in the food delivery app before handing it back.
“Ooh, milkshakes,” she said, tapping the screen to place her order. I gave her mine when she was done, and shetapped it in. “All right.” She rolled her shoulders back. “It’s done. Now we just wait.”
“You already know,” I said, trying to convince my nerves to settle, “investigations involve a lot of waiting.”
“So true.”
She crossed the room to the sofa we’d agreed was the safest place to sit, slightly out of view of the front window, but visible enough to someone wanting to confirm we were inside. From that angle, if he was going to take a shot at us, he’d have to get close enough to be seen.
My team had the surroundings scoped out well enough that I was only a little worried about a sniper. I was a little worried about everything. If we could have gotten away with using Wren as bait here, too, I would have pushed for that. But Cooper had reminded us, “You saw him when you saved Sylvie, and he knows it. He needs both of you now.”
Sylvie had refused to consider me playing bait unless she was beside me. I’d lost that argument too.
We pretended to watch TV, Sylvie curled into me, her leg bouncing restlessly out of sight of the window. We both jerked in alarm when the doorbell rang. My phone beeped with a message from Ryder.
All clear. Food delivery.
I opened the door to what I guessed was a college student picking up extra cash. He handed me our food and left. We ate, every bite tasting like sawdust. I hated to waste a good burger, but I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy anything when every sense I had was on high alert.
There were no more knocks on the door. No creak of a footstep on the porch. Nothing. By midnight, both ofus were flagging.
“Do we just go to bed?” Sylvie asked, her shoulders drooping in disappointment and fatigue.
