Page 46 of Deadly Force

Her eyes lock on mine, wide and steady, like she’s bracing for something.

I could reach out. One hand. One step. That’s all it would take.

The moment tightens, just enough to snap?—

Knock knock knock.

We both flinch like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t.

“Soy yo.”

It’s Mateo. Of course it is.

I don’t move. Can’t bring myself to step back, to break whatever spell we’ve been under for the last few minutes. She’s still looking at me like she’s waiting for something, and I’m still fighting the urge to give it to her.

In Spanish, I answer, “Impeccable timing.”

My gaze flicks to her, one more second. Long enough to make sure she knows this isn’t over.

Because it’s not. Whatever this is between us, whatever we’ve been dancing around, it’s not going away just because Mateo knocked on the door.

Brooke

Dropping onto the nearest plastic chair, I scramble to calm my racing heart as Caleb reaches for the door. My thoughts are splintering.

He can't be flirting with me. He wouldn't dare, would he?

Does he really have that much of an ego, or did he just want me to confess that I find him attractive?

The thought hasn't even finished unraveling when the door bursts open.

Mateo strides in, sharp and winded, eyes bouncing between us but never landing for long. "He got lucky—had to pull over for an ambulance. Tacoma ducked into a garage off Grant after that. I looped back, but no visual."

Caleb's body goes rigid, a wire-taut focus replacing the lingering warmth. He moves fast, sharp, all business, grabbing the notepad, pen already flying across the page

I watch him work, his movements surgical, controlled. One hand writing, the other already reaching for the radio Mateo extends. Every motion precise. Deadly efficient. I feel like I'm vibrating by comparison, every nerve ending raw. He'd just been teasing me, pulling me in, and now he's this focused machine. The whiplash is jarring.

Mateo glances at me. "I’ll need your keys."

My brain short-circuits. "Sorry?”

Caleb finally looks at me again and gives me acrooked smile that's going to be my undoing if I'm not careful. My stomach free-falls. It's still there, the heat, the implication. He hasn't just switched it off.

"Mateo’s heading back to your house."

My throat goes dust-dry at the thought of him leaving us alone again. Just us. In this tiny room. After that?

I hand my keys over, still grappling. "Um—I don't… could you grab my laptop? And my emergency bag. It's in the hall closet. It’s a Wildcats duffel."

Mateo nods. "I'll see what I can do."

Caleb slaps his palm against Mateo's. "Thanks. If it gets hot, circle back here. Stagger entry. Use the side door."

"Copy that."

The door clicks shut behind us. The air still hums from whatever that just was—words unspoken, something raw left hanging between us.

Caleb turns slowly, then his gaze finds mine, steady and unreadable. "Want to know what I'd tell my mom about you?" he asks, voice low and steady.