Page 23 of Deadly Force

Gasping, I double over, clawing for breath and trying to make sense of what just happened. I had it in my hands, and now it’s gone.

Thanks to Caleb’s heavy-handed tactics… both Eliza and my story are gone.

SIX

Caleb

Good thing I didn’t shoot first and ask questions later. Everything about the guy was wrong—wrong shoes, wrong outfit, wrong attitude. Except he has a reasonable explanation for being out here. If you can call what he’s doing reasonable.

My pulse starts to settle as I assess him. Threat level: geek. “You’re geocaching.”

“Yup.” The guy beams, clearly in seventh heaven. “Thought I was the only one who did this at night. Respect, man. Most people just use Google Maps and hike in daylight.”

I don’t have time for this. I can’t hear Brooke, and I can’t see her with him blocking my way.

“Are those military-grade goggles? You sure you don’t wanna team up?”

I step around him, hardening my voice. “Go home, man.”

Hand still on my weapon, I pick up my pace to a light jog, listening and scanning for signs Brooke and Eliza are still close by.

Brooke appears—alone. In my green-tinged vision, it’s impossible to miss the groove in her forehead. Slowing to a walk, I breathe out a thank you to God, take the goggles off, and use her flashlight instead.

“Where is she?”

Brooke’s tone carries a bite. “Gone.”

That’s why she looks so ticked off.

“There was a guy…”

Brooke lets out a puff of air. “I know! I heard you. He probably peed himself. I told you this getup was overkill.”

I’m not in the mood to explain. She has zero respect for what I do. So what if she lost a story? Better that than her life.

As we walk back, my mind runs through worst-case scenarios. Hidden shooters, eyes behind scopes, a second team waiting to flank us. Anything but the possibility I made an error.

I angle my body to keep Brooke half-behind me, forcing myself to breathe slow, steady.

Brooke’s anger pulses beside me like a radio signal, sharp and irritating. I can’t let it distract me. I’ve seen too many good people die because theyignored their gut. I steal glances at her profile, lit by the flashlight—jaw set, eyes flashing.

As expected, when we reach the Pathfinder, she’s frosty from the moment we climb inside to the painfully quiet drive back to her place.

This gig is getting old fast. It’s starting to look less like protective detail and more like I volunteered for a hostage situation. I’d take a recon mission through enemy territory over navigating Brooke’s glare any day. At least with landmines, you know when you’ve stepped on one.

Tapping the brakes, I ease around a corner, eyes flicking between side streets and rearview mirrors. Every parked car could hide a threat. Every porch could hold a watcher. The world outside is full of sharp edges. The womanbesideme is full of sharp edges.

She shifts in her seat, and I catch the movement in my peripheral vision. Her voice comes quieter than before, almost reluctant. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m acting like a brat… it’s just… this was really important to me.”

“You think that’s going to be a comfort to your family and friends when you get yourself killed?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!”

Her ambivalence is disturbing. “You’re walking a fine line. One misstep and you’ll be the story, not just reporting about it.”

I flick a look in the rearview mirror. Two cars. Neither too close nor too slow. Probably nothing.

I take a right into her neighborhood and make sure neither vehicle follows before slowing to a crawl outside her place.