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Chapter 15

Bradford stepped into the kitchen of the tiny two bedroom, two bath cottage rental that they’d found on the outskirts of St. Francisville. It was right on a lake he was sure stayed busy in the summertime. Which, it was basically summer anyway, or close to it. “What smells so good?”

“Hope you like Greek and Lebanese food.” Chance set down an oversized brown bag then started pulling out boxes.

“Hell yeah.”

“Good, because I grabbed a little of everything.”

Berlin was in the attached living room barely a few feet away watching the local news. “Better save me some baba ghanoush,” she called out.

Chance didn’t look up from unloading the different dishes. “I bought you extra, babe. And moussaka.”

Berlin fist-pumped without turning away from the screen. “They’ve been talking about the search and rescue on the news. Only a little blip, but they mentioned it at least.”

“Am I good to take the chicken shawarma?” Bradford asked, his gaze straying to the screen. The local news had shifted over to national news, so Berlin had muted it.

But he froze as a familiar face popped up on screen. “Hey, turn that up.”

Food forgotten, he strode into the connected room and stood in front of the flat-screen as Berlin adjusted the volume.

The woman on screen had a somber expression as she continued talking… “A man has been charged with burning down ten new townhomes in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Recently built and still unoccupied, no lives were lost that police know of. But an investigation into the motive behind the arson is underway. They also believe that the man in custody was working with an accomplice, so any information…”

“What’s the deal?” Berlin asked, pulling his attention away from the screen. “You know the firebug?”

“No.” His attention was on the bottom of the screen, not the current story.

A small picture of an attractive woman was on the bottom right of the screen, teasing the next story. Hope Berkley.

His heart seized.

“Up next, the FBI is looking for answers into the potential disappearance of investigative journalist Hope Berkley. Berkley won a Pulitzer in 2022 for breaking open a bank fraud scandal…”

Disappearance? Bradford strode right out the front door, his cell in hand as he called Hope.

Her phone rang four times, then went to voicemail.

He called again. Same deal.

So he texted. Then he texted one of her backup burners that not many people knew about.

A minute later he received a text. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.

Yeah, that wasn’t possible. Though the response was somewhat reassuring. Where are you? I can help.

He didn’t receive a response, not that he’d expected one. But he’d had to offer regardless.

Reach out anytime. For anything. It was a standing offer, one he’d given her many times before. Then he added, I’m stateside and have access to a private plane if you ever need one.

He figured it was better to get specific with his offer. Because Hope was smart and determined, but when she was on a story, she was hyperfocused to the point where everything else fell away.

To his surprise, he got a response. I might take you up on that.

He blinked even as worry settled in his gut and took hold. Hope could take care of herself, no doubt about that. But she wasn’t invincible, something he was pretty sure she forgot most of the time. Or she just had a death wish. He honestly didn’t know, because she charged into things without seeming to be aware that she wasn’t actually immortal.

Back inside, the news was still on but muted, and it had shifted to a story about the best beaches to visit this summer.

“So who was the woman on screen?” Berlin asked as he sat at the table with her and Chance.

It was clear that Chance nudged her under the table.

But Berlin wasn’t going to let this go. He knew better than that. He was also surprised that she didn’t already know who the woman was to him.

“You really don’t know? I assumed you dug into all of us,” he muttered as he started plating his food. Even though he didn’t feel like eating, one of his mottos was eat when you can because you never know when you’ll get another meal. That was more or less a military thing and very true.

“I looked into your military background, but I didn’t dig into your personal stuff.” And she sounded affronted that he didn’t know that. “I only know what you’ve told me. And I thought we were friends,” she added with a sniff. But he saw the hurt in her gaze.

And damn it, she was his friend. This was just the sort of thing he never talked about. “We are friends, B. And…Hope is my wife.”

Berlin’s bright blue-green eyes widened. “You mean…ex-wife?”

“Nope. Wife.”

Not that Hope seemed to give a damn about that. But she hadn’t served him with divorce papers yet so that was something.