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GAGE

“You can’t kill him, Gage.”

I glance away from the road to look at Alec and ask, “When did I say I was planning on killing him?”

Alec smirks at me. “You didn’t have to say it. I saw your face at the meeting this morning. And I know you well enough to know what you were thinking.” His expression sobers. “I get it, Gage. But you know?—”

“I know this piece of shit tried to kill Rory. Most likely, twice.” My fingers tighten around the wheel. Pain slices through my jaw as my teeth grind together. “Yeah, I want to kill him. It’s what he deserves.”

Actually, death seems too simple of a punishment. I’d prefer torture of some sort. But no matter how much I’d like to dole out my own form of retribution, I won’t. Not because I’d feel guilty about it—I wouldn’t—but because it would complicate things.

Although if he just disappeared…

The GPS beeps, signaling a turn up ahead.

I look at the little map on the dashboard, spotting the turn onto Route 101, and flip on my blinker as we come up to it.

Once I’ve made the turn, I continue, “I know I can’t kill him.

Or rather, I could. But I won’t. If he ends up with a broken nose, though… ”

“I didn’t see anything.” Alec claps my shoulder. “First, we need to make sure he’s really the one. Just because the program identified this guy as the one Rory saw… it’s not a guarantee. There’s still a two percent error rate.”

“True. But the rest of the evidence points to this Mavers asshole, too. If I had to put money on him being the one, I would.”

In the three days since Rory got her memories back, a lot has happened, the biggest of which was finding Karl Mavers, a low-level criminal based out of Boston with a string of petty thefts and bar brawls to his name.

The morning after Rory’s flashback, we brought in a sketch artist to create a drawing of the man she saw.

Once we had the rendering, we sent one copy to the police and kept the original for our own investigation.

Not that I don’t think the police aren’t trying to solve Rory’s case, but there are tools we can access that they can’t.

Like the program Alec created that uses AI to create a 3D likeness of the suspect and facial recognition to cross match it to anyone who has their image online.

“Officially, I can’t support you using it,” Officer Quillian told us once our meeting with the police was over.

“First, you shouldn’t even be speaking to any suspects.

And what you’re talking about could never be used in court.

But.” His voice dipped conspiratorially.

“If you just happen to find proof tying him to the crimes, we could use it. Just saying.”

We’re not just going on the results of the program, though. Once Alec got a match, he did a deep dive into Mavers’s background. Employment history, past relationships, credit report, police records, and he even hacked into the asshole’s computer to check his search history.

That’s when we found more definitive proof.

A tank fill up at the gas station in Bliss the day before Rory’s first attack when he normally never travels more than thirty miles from Boston.

A deposit for five grand in his bank account—all cash—the weekend before.

Numerous calls to a burner phone in the days leading up to Rory’s attack.

And the most ominous; discovery of the Tor browser on his personal laptop and several visits to a dark website that posts ads looking for hitmen.

Does that make it one-hundred percent certain? No.

Is it close enough? I think so.

But barring me killing him, we need a confession. Which is why Alec and I are headed to Portsmouth to confront Mavers and force him into telling us everything. “Convince him,” Enzo reminded us before we left GMG this morning, “but don’t hurt him. We don’t want this coming back on us.”

“I won’t,” I promised Enzo. “But if he falls and hits his face on something, I can’t be held responsible. Can I?”

Rory didn’t want me going, worried that somehow this Mavers guy might get the jump on us.

As she pushed her eggs around on her plate this morning, she asked if I might consider letting someone else go in my place.

“Maybe it’s selfish,” she admitted, “but I can’t bear the thought of him hurting you.

And I know you’re upset about this. What if it makes you distracted and he pulls out a gun or something? ”

“I’m trained for this,” I reminded her. “I might not have been a Green Beret or Delta, but I’m skilled in hand-to-hand combat.”

“I know.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine, big and worried and shadowed from lack of sleep. “And I get why you want to be there. I just… I feel protective of you. Even though I know you can take care of yourself.”

Looking at her strained face, I almost said I’d stay. But I want to look Mavers in the eye. Scare the shit out of him, like he did to Rory. And I want to know with absolute certainty that he won’t ever touch her again.

So here we are, five minutes from Mavers’s house in Stratham, a town just southwest of Portsmouth, ready to get in there and drag out a confession from him.

As I signal to turn onto the street that leads to Mavers’s house, Alec taps the mouse pad of his laptop a few times, then turns to me.

“Okay. As soon as we get in range of his house, I’ll check for any kind of security system. I don’t imagine this guy has anything complicated, probably a video doorbell at best, but I’ll bypass it so we can get inside undetected.”

“You still thinking the house down the street is the best place to park?” I ask, giving the little map on the dashboard another quick glance.

Before we left Bliss, we determined that a vacant rental property halfway down the street would be the best place to leave our car, rather than parking out front of Mavers’s place and potentially alerting him to our presence.

Alec nods. “I think so. Given that it’s dark, we shouldn’t have too much trouble on approach from there. And even if someone spots the car and gets suspicious, I’ve arranged it so the rental records can’t be tied back to us.”

As the rental house nears, I turn off the headlights. “Thanks, man.” I cast a quick look at Alec, giving him a quick chin lift. “Without your help with all this computer stuff, we wouldn’t even be here. Wouldn’t be close to ending this for Rory.”

His fingers fly across his laptop’s keyboard for a few seconds before he responds. “I’m just glad I can help. And hopefully, we’ll get what we need out of this guy without having to kill him.”

A beat later, he adds in a low tone, “If it comes to it, Gage, you know I’ve got your six. Whatever we need to do to make sure Rory’s safe.”

Unexpected emotion brings a lump to my throat. After leaving the Army, I never expected to find this kind of bond with a team again. But in some stroke of luck, here I am—with four teammates who’ll do anything to back me up, just as I’d do for them.

But emotion has no place here. Not when there’s a mission to complete. Namely, finding out irrefutably if this Mavers guy is the one, and if he is, getting the proof needed to convict him.

Shutting off the car, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Anything with the security?”

In the dim of the car, Alec smiles grimly. “Nothing. Not even a doorbell camera.”

“And he’s home? It’s confirmed?” I know I’m asking the same questions I did an hour ago, and I know Alec wouldn’t make a mistake, but I can’t help it.

“Confirmed. The GPS in his car shows he’s at home.”

“Okay.” I reach beneath the seat and retrieve my Sig, then tuck it into the holster at my waist, making sure to pull my sweatshirt down to cover it.

We’re not planning to use our weapons, but I’d never go into a situation like this without one.

“So we’ll get to the edge of his property, then use the trees as cover to get to the back.

Then we go in through the kitchen door and confront him inside. ”

“Sounds good.” Alec puts his own gun in its holster. Then he pulls his baseball cap down so it shadows his eyes. A beat later, I do the same. “Are you ready to move out?”

My jaw sets. “Ready.”

On a silent gesture, we both slip from the car, the doors closing behind us with almost inaudible snicks.

First, we walk down the sidewalk, just two dark figures out for a walk, before making a quick right into the narrow band of trees that separates Mavers’s property from his neighbors.

In under two minutes we’re tucked into the shadows beside his back door, lock picks out and ready.

While it’s not legal—not even close—lock picking is a skill suggested to us by our friend, Cole, who started up Blade and Arrow Security. “We only do it when absolutely necessary,” he explained, “but if breaking the law means saving someone’s life, we’ll do it.”

Considering I’m ninety-nine percent certain Mavers tried to kill Rory, I’d say this situation qualifies.

We wait outside the door for a few seconds first, just listening. But there’s nothing. No clatter of pots or clinking of dishes. Given that it’s after ten PM, we’re hoping Mavers is either in the living room watching TV or, best case, already in bed, asleep.

It’s a simple lock, so I have it open in seconds. Then I twist the knob and slowly open the door, breathing a sigh of relief when it moves without creaking. I go in first with Alec at my six, and we pause in the kitchen to get our bearings.

The kitchen is small. Messy. The counters are covered with crumbs and several stacks of unopened mail.

A small stack of plates sits in the sink waiting to be cleaned and three empty beer bottles are set beside them.

One light glows dully over a small kitchen island, illuminating even more crumbs and a greasy pizza box.

From somewhere in the front of the house, a laugh track rises and falls.