Page 58 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)

Wrong shoes, wrong outfit, wrong attitude.

Everything about the guy was wrong.

Except he has a good explanation for being out here.

When I confront him, he nearly drops his phone. “Wait,”

his expression switches to hopeful.

“Are you here for the same cache?”

“Cache?”

“Yeah, the drop—it’s supposed to be somewhere off the ridge.”

He flips his phone toward me, revealing an open geocaching app, a blinking blue dot on a pixelated map.

“Coordinates led me here. Thought I was alone until you popped out all stealth-mode.”

Got it. He’s one of those.

“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 squint.

“I’m not geocaching.”

He squints back, head bobbing.

“Oh. So… LARPing?”

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

“But you look like you’d be really good at finding hidden boxes in the woods, just saying. Are those military grade goggles? You sure you don’t wanna team up?”

I step around him, and harden 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, and take the goggles off, and utilize her flashlight instead.

“Where’s is she?”

Brooke’s tone carries a bite. “Gone.”

“She give you what you needed?”

Brooke’s face hardens.

“She did. I hand it in my hands, until she heard you.”

Ah. Crap. That’s why she looks peeved off.

“There was a guy…”

“Was he after Eliza?”

Eliza. The girl.

I shake my head and she mutters something way to close to an expletive for a good Christian girl.

“So, you accosted some poor guy on a trial, probably scared him half to death, and you chased off my whistleblower. Nice going hot shot.”

The sarcasm in her voice drives nails into my chest.

“He could have been dangerous.”

“But he wasn’t. You overreacted and you cost me my story,” she says.

My gut clenches.

“I’m not apologizing. The guy was sketchy. I stopped and asked him a few questions.”

Brooke lets out a puff of air.

“I know! I heard you. The poor guy probably peed himself.”

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

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

This gig is getting old, fast. I’d take a recon mission through enemy territory over navigating Brooke’s glare any day.

At least with landmines, you knew when you’d stepped on one.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m acting like a brat…it’s just…this is, it was really important to me,” she says.

I don’t need to look to know she’s fuming.

“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 victim, not just reporting about it.”

“I’m processing, okay? Forgive me if I need a little time to do that.”

I flick a look in the rearview. Two cars. Neither too close or 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.

“Same drill as before. Stay here. Let me check the house. I come get you.”

I cast a glance at her. Yep. Still mad at me. Her head is ducked, and she’s on her phone. “Sure.”

Thanks Silas. Thanks a bunch.

Not only do I get a babysitting job, but I get one with zero appreciation or respect.

I kill the engine and sit for a second, eyes scanning the street. Nothing moves—no porch lights flick on, no blinds twitch.

I step out of the Pathfinder. Gravel crunches under my boots as I round the hood, checking corners, rooftops, the neighbor’s open garage. One light flickers three houses down, but it’s empty. Probably motion-triggered. Still—I clock it.

At the front steps, I pause, assessing the darkened windows of her home. I should have set up a timer so it’s no so obvious she’s not home.

Dumb. I’ll do it tonight. Just as soon as….

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, I pivot just as a van inches toward Brooke sitting unprotected in the Pathfinder.

Ignoring every instinct to run to her, I start to move, fast, direct, low-profile, using cover, keeping the threat in my sight line.

I don’t draw right away. I calculate. How far is she? How fast is the threat moving? What’s the quickest route?

Then I start to pray. Lord, let this be a delivery driver.

The driver adjusts course. They’re coming in fast. Too fast. Not a delivery driver. Not a neighbor. Not someone lost.

And there are no plates on the van.

“Brooke! DOWN!” I yell.

She ducks.

The driver’s window opens a crack, and I sprint toward the van, sliding over the hood and firing rapidly when I see the barrel of a gun appear.

I hit my target, and the van veers off slamming into the curb and jumping it before the driver floors the accelerator and speeds off.

My instinct wants to chase, but my first priority is Brooke.

I jump off the hood and wrench the door open. She’s shaken, but a fast assessment tells me she’s uninjured.

The bullet didn’t make it out of the chamber. It was a warning and one I plan to heed.

“Stay there. We’re leaving,” I say.

Brooke’s eyes widen. “But…”

“No arguments. It’s not safe here anymore.”

Brooke shakes her head.

“I left my laptop…”

I infuse steel into my voice as I peel out from the curb, disregarding all speed limits as I leave her neighbor in the rearview.

“I’ll come back and get anything you need.”

I reach into the Center Console Storage Compartment and pull out the tactical radio unit mounted inside.

Brooke’s voice is shaky as she speaks.

“We need to call the police.”

“I will. As soon as I get you somewhere safe.”

Standard protocol. We did it for Verity, and we’ll do it for Brooke.

I push the earpiece into my ear.

“Hightower, this is Evans. Threat level has escalated to Code Red. Requesting immediate backup and tactical recon sweep. We’re not dealing with intimidation anymore. This is containment—and it just failed.”

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