Page 7 of Hollow Trace

Quinn pursed his lips, a hint of pain bleeding through the stoic facade. “She’s training for her next ultrarace. She goes running in these hills all the time. I came looking when she missed a check-in.”

Scout bit back a curse. “And the watch?”

“Brea got one just like this about a month ago. Some company was handing them out to the top competitors at her last race. I found the watch and part of a patch in the mud a minute before those assholes opened fire.”

Coulter inhaled, looking up from the open bag. “I don’t suppose you grabbed that patch?”

Quinn stared at the man, mouth pinched tight. “I’ve been a cop nearly as long as you’ve been a soldier, Barrett. Of course, I grabbed it.” He fished into his pocket, removed the remains of the patch. “Brea said it was to enhance her workouts — electrolytes and other supplements. Some kind of new therapy to help prevent cramping and lactic acid buildup in endurance races. But judging by your expressions, that was obviously a lie.”

Scout sighed. “We’ll have to get it tested, though, I’m not sure how much survived the rain and the mud. Regardless, I doubt it has anything to do with electrolytes and ultraraces.”

Coulter relaxed a bit. “Jammer’s on. I’ll have to disable it to communicate with Gideon in a few minutes, but at least whoever’s tracking that watch will only get snapshots of our location. Assuming it keeps transmitting. That light’s getting weaker by the minute.”

“Wait. If they can track the watch, can’t your friend follow the signal in reverse? Tell us where they’re hiding because I bet my ass that’s where they’re holding Brea.”

Coulter held up his hand. “I don’t think it’s that simple. But Gideon said he’d check it out. I told him I’d contact him in five. Until then, we wait until we know where we’re heading next.”

“Which means, we’ve got time. I showed you mine…” Quinn crossed his arms on his massive chest. “Your turn.”

Coulter tilted his head before looking at Scout. He shrugged, then waved toward Quinn, giving Scout the go-ahead.

Scout ran her fingers across her hair, flattening out the wisps that fluttered against her face. “We don’t have time for a full debrief, but in a nutshell, those men we encountered are part of a covert squad developed by Oliver Finch.”

Quinn frowned. “The CEO of Hyperion?” He snorted when she arched a brow. “He’s part of an ongoing investigation. One that doesn’t mention anything about men running around the forest in body armor with AR-15s.”

“That would kinda defeat the covert part.”

“We searched his facility. There wasn’t anything to suggest he had guys hopped up on meth hiding in the basement.”

“It’s not meth. It’s something much worse.” She stopped him from replying with a raise of her brow. “Do you want the intel or are we just going to spend what little time we have arguing?”

The left corner of his mouth quirked, a hint of a smile bleeding through. “You’re right. We’ll save the arguing for later. Please…” He waved his hand. “Continue.”

She cleared her throat, ignoring the way his gaze raked across her, each pass like a ghosted caress. “As I was saying, Finch took an experimental drug therapy that’s being used to treat soldiers in the field and weaponized it. This drug suppresses pain and gives them a boost to help them push through long enough to get to safety. Only Finch is using it on his little black ops squad in a way that enhances their strength and stamina while shutting down their pain receptors, making them incredibly hard to kill.” She held up her hand. “I know. I sound crazy, but it’s true.”

The lines around his mouth deepened as he looked out the window, then back. “Considering I shot a couple of them multiple times and they kept coming, not so crazy. But how does that end up with me carrying an empty oak box?”

Her gaze flew to Coulter, then back. “Finch is the one who sent that team after us in Bralorne. He’s the reason we had to let everyone believe we’d died. If he finds out we’re alive, that we have ties…”

Quinn’s gaze narrowed. “You think he’ll use those people against you.”

“We know he will. But we can go over that later. For now, only lethal shots will drop them, anything else pisses them off. And if you have to go hand-to-hand⁠—”

“They’re like tanks. Already figured that one out.” He leaned closer, a hint of pine weaving over to her. “The real question is, what now? Because if they have Brea…”

There wasn’t a mountain he wouldn’t move, a line he wouldn’t cross to save her.

Scout swallowed, trying not to choke on the thought. He would have done the same for her, if she’d given him the chance. Which was mostly why she hadn’t. Knowing he’d burn his career to the ground, make Brea have to mourn his loss…

She hadn’t been able to ask, and the consequences of that truth stared back at her from his intense hazel eyes.

Coulter cleared his throat. “Let’s see if Gideon has any new intel.” He deactivated the jammer, hit a number on his cell.

It rang twice before Gideon answered. “I said to give me five minutes, Coulter. It’s only been four.”

Coulter chuckled. “We’re sitting on an abandoned logging road hoping two SUVs carrying enhanced assholes don’t find another way to reach us. Sue me for being impatient.”

“You didn’t mention you were being pursued.”