Page 160 of Trapped Truth

“Maybe we should have killed him.”

“I dunno.”

“Feeling sentimental, Hunter?”

Gunnar frowns, capitulating internally. “So often, evil gets swept under the carpet. None of the people who hurt me as a kid saw a minute of jail time. For once, it’d be nice to see justice get its day in court. For all those girls in there, you know.”

“You believe in justice?” I lift a brow.

“Think this place has me turning soft.”

“You might be right about that.”

On a whim, I tug the threatening pillar of ice into a fast but tight hug. It’s akin to embracing a brick wall. I actually think he recoils a little. Still, I make a point of squeezing his bones then relinquishing him.

“You’re not so bad, Gunnar. Not bad at all.”

“Alright, enough of that.” He shudders, pulling a sickened face. “Go hunt down my jackass twin brother and cuddle him, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“I may do that.”

“Gross. I don’t want to know.”

It’s a challenge to bite back laughter. Their relationship might always vacillate between love and hate. Oftentimes, I think their hatred is affection in disguise. Maybe one day, they’ll be able to show it.

“Call me if Gracie needs anything.”

“Yes ma’am.” He mock salutes me.

“I’ll come back in a few hours.”

Exiting the medical department, the elevator ride to Sabre’s cloud-wrapped upper levels grants me a second to gather myself. It’s been a long, draining couple of days that have moved faster than a whirling tornado.

Between cleanup at the scene of Madden’s corpse-filled estate to evacuating victims and releasing our loved ones from witness protection, there hasn’t been a moment of peace. But it’s coming. Soon, I’ll be able to rest, safe in the knowledge that our work here is done.

What’s next?

I guess I’ll have to figure that out.

The guys are all huddled in Warner’s messy office, trawling over evidence logs and pulling together the official report for Madden’s upcoming court appearance. None of them have stopped or rested either.

“Who wants coffee?” I poke my head in the door.

Four gazes lift to mine. Brilliant, reassuring baby blue. Possession-flecked olive greens. A light, playful honey hue, dancing with mischief. And churning, ever-shifting obsidians, stippled with the ocean’s waves.

“Mary’s bagels?” Axel asks hopefully.

“You’ve been talking about this bagel place for a whole year now, and I still haven’t been. I’m starting to think you’re wilfully depriving me.”

“He has a company-imposed limit.” Warner absently flicks through stacked paperwork. “One time, he almost missed an emergency callout because he was halfway across London stuffing his face.”

“That isn’t true!” Axel scoffs in outrage.

Leaning on the desk, Hyland chuckles. “It is so.”

“I always bring leftovers back.” He pouts at his surly teammates. “Next time, I won’t bother if all I’m going to get is grief.”

“I could eat,” Blaine mutters from a spot on the floor littered with crime scene photographs. “What’s good?”