Page 62 of Ghost

I believed he was finally too frightened to gamble. The crew leader confirmed the same thing after Stryker questioned him about his remaining men, recent movements, and the last material they intended to sell. He knew almost nothing about Bellamy’s internal records beyond what Len handed him, while Len knew little about which businesses the crew had pressured after the stolen components changed hands. Their arrangement had been built to keep each side useful without sharing more than necessary.

Stryker looked at me. “That closes the immediate threat.”

“Yeah.”

“They’re yours.”

The crew leader jerked against the restraints. “I told you where the lockup was.”

I drew my pistol and stepped in front of him. “That bought you quick.”

His face changed as he understood the only mercy available in the room. I fired once into his chest, close enough that the suppressed shot sounded flat inside the concrete walls. The chair rocked backward, then settled with his head hanging against one shoulder.

Len stared at the body before turning frantic eyes at me when I stopped in front of him. “Tamsin wouldn’t want⁠—”

I struck him again before her name could become another excuse in his mouth. His head snapped sideways, blood spraying across the collar of his shirt while the broken chair leg screeched over the floor. I caught his jaw and forced his face back toward mine.

“You spent years using her name because you thought nobody would believe her over you. Then you put her in a building you planned to burn down. You don’t get to speak for her now.”

I fired, and Len’s body went slack against the restraints, a bullet lodged in his heart. The silence afterward lasted only long enough for me to holster the weapon and turn toward Stryker.

“Smoke, Trigger.” He glanced toward the bodies. “Handle it.”

Smoke looked at the blood across the floor and sighed. “Always the glamorous jobs.”

“You volunteered by standing there,” Hawkeye replied, reaching for a pair of gloves from the worktable.

“I was providing moral support.”

Trigger tossed him a roll of plastic. “Provide it with both fucking hands.”

I left them arguing and crossed to the utility sink in the adjoining room. Stryker appeared in the doorway while I was drying my hands. “Go home. We’ve got this.”

I nodded, then was on my bike less than two minutes later, cutting through the canyon night with the cold air stripping the last trace of that room from my skin.

The front door opened before I reached the porch. Tamsin stood beneath the light, wearing soft shorts and an oversized shirt, her wild curls loose around her shoulders and one wrist still wrapped from Reaper’s examination. Her gaze moved over my face, chest, and arms before settling on my bruised hand.

“You were gone an hour and forty-three minutes,” she informed me, holding the door wider.

“Counting?” I asked as I stepped onto the porch.

Pink spread beneath the freckles across her cheeks. “Maybe.”

I crossed the threshold, closed one arm around her waist, and pulled her against me. Her body fitted itself to mine without hesitation, both hands settling carefully over my shoulders. Having her close tore the last of the ice out of my blood.

“Missed me, pretty girl?” I murmured, lowering my mouth toward hers.

“A little.”

“Liar.”

A giggle came from the living room before I could kiss the confession out of her. Jacqueline stood while Bex gathered their bags from beside the couch. Both women looked far too entertained by the color in Tamsin’s face.

“She definitely wasn’t counting,” Jacqueline teased. “She only checked the clock every four minutes.”

“We were prepared to lie for her,” Bex added, walking toward the door. “Then she blushed and ruined it.”

Tamsin covered part of her face with one hand. “You’re both terrible.”