Page 23

Jaxson

I didn’t want to move from our hiding spot. Not yet. The armed men had vanished past my blazing car, and their voices and footsteps were swallowed by the distance. But silence could lie. Silence could wait for you to let your guard down.

I didn’t trust them not to come back.

Onyx stayed perfectly still beside me, her ears pinned back, her breathing low and controlled. I ran my hand along her back, slow and steady, a silent reassurance for her, and for me. She didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Always solid when I needed her to be.

Tory was pressed against the log, her breathing still shaky. Her shoulders trembled slightly, but she wasn’t falling apart. Not yet. Poor woman had been through a hell that no one should have to endure, and yet, she was still holding herself together.

I felt a twinge of something I didn’t expect . . . respect. Admiration. Most people would’ve broken by now.

I counted the seconds in my head, forcing my breathing to stay even. Thirty. Sixty. Ninety. Still nothing. The night stretched around us, heavy and suffocating. The low drone of a motor drifted to us.

Their boat!

They were leaving .

I let out a slow breath, and the tension in my chest eased slightly.

“Okay,” I said, brushing my hand over Onyx’s head. “Sounds like they’ve gone. Let’s move.”

Tory scrambled to her feet, and I pressed my hand against her back to steady her. She seemed to relax under my touch.

“You okay to walk?” I asked.

Her gaze darted toward the trail. A flicker of fear danced across her expression but vanished just as quickly. “Walking? Yes. I’m done with running for today.”

“Good,” I said, letting my hand linger on her back just a moment longer than necessary before pulling it away. “We’ll head back to the track. It’s easier than pushing through this scrub.”

We crept out of the bushes, stopping every few steps to listen. The night was alive with sounds: the drone of cicadas rising and falling in waves, the faint crackle and pop of my dying Jeep as the flames devoured it. But there were no voices, no footsteps. No immediate threat.

The distant glow of the wreckage cast long, flickering shadows across the ground, while the pale half-moon and the dazzling Milky Way stretched from one horizon to the other, painting the landscape in ghostly silver.

The light was enough to see the twin tire tracks that stretched out in front of us, cutting a ragged path through the darkness.

Onyx stayed close to my side, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. Every movement of hers was sharp and purposeful. She didn’t miss a thing. Best partner I’d ever had.

Tory glanced over her shoulder toward the fireball, her expression caught somewhere between unease and exhaustion, and the flames reflected in her eyes, dancing like tiny firestorms, and the heat had brought a faint glow to her cheeks.

Despite everything, she looked alive. Stronger than I’d expected after all the bullshit she’d been through.

“Sorry about your car,” she said finally, turning her gaze back to me.

“Me too,” I said. “I loved that Jeep.”

“I hope you were insured.”

“Yeah. But I’ve only had it for three months. Pretty sure the insurance company’s going to love me.”

“They might actually enjoy assessing your claim,” she said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I doubt they get too many cases of cars being blown up by an RPG.”

I chuckled, and the sound seemed unfamiliar after the hours of tension. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll make for an interesting report. Just hope they believe me.”

“There’ll be enough evidence,” she said, her smile widening. “Besides, I witnessed it too.”

For a moment, the weight of the night seemed to ease a little.

“Still can’t believe that happened, though,” she added, shaking her head.

“Me neither,” I admitted. “I’m just glad we weren’t in the car.”

She let out a sharp breath. “Jesus, I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“Sorry,” I said, wincing.

“So, what’s that now? Four attempts on my life in one day? Five? I’ve lost count. That has to be some sort of record.”

“I’d say so,” I replied dryly. “You’re either really lucky or really unlucky. Haven’t decided yet.”

She snorted, a sound that was so damn cute, I couldn’t help but grin.

“Can we not have any more?” she said.

“That’s the plan.”

We kept walking, choosing one tire track each as our path. Onyx trotted ahead of Tory, her pace steady, but she kept glancing back toward me, her bright eyes checking in. Like my own protection detail.

“How far did you say that orphanage was again?” Tory asked, her voice steady, but her expression unreadable.

“About ten miles,” I said, shrugging. “Not too far.”

“For you, maybe,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I walked a mile, let alone ten.”

“We’ll make it before dawn if we keep moving,” I said, joking. We should be there long before that.

“Dawn?” She let out a brittle laugh that teetered on the edge of exhaustion and disbelief. “Great. Another near-death experience to round out the day.”

I chuckled. “We’ll stop as much as you need. ”

“For snacks?”

That caught me off-guard, and I laughed. I liked her. I liked her a lot.

“I’m serious,” she said, deadpan. “You do not want to see me when I’m hangry.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “You sound like my brother, Whitney. Do you know him? He’s the Rosebud coroner.”

Her brows rose in surprise. “Oh, yes, I do know him. Unfortunately, in my line of work, we’ve crossed paths a few times. I didn’t know he was your brother. Is he older or younger?”

“Older. By three minutes.”

She frowned, her head tilting. “You’re twins?”

“Actually, triplets,” I said. “Whitney, Parker, and me. Parker’s a cold-case detective at Rosebud station. Whitney handles the dead. And Onyx and I deal with both finding the dead, and the living, with a bit of luck.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my god. I’ve obviously been sleeping under a log. I didn’t realize you were triplets.”

“Well, we’re not identical. In fact, we’re all pretty different,” I said with a shrug.

She blinked at me. “Okay, I have questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Who did you say was the oldest?”

“Whitney,” I answered. “By three minutes.”

The tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away. “Do you guys fight about that?”

“Every damn time,” I said.

She bit back a laugh. “Anything else you argue about?”

“Plenty,” I said. “Parker thinks he’s the smartest, Whitney swears he’s the most patient, and I just remind them I can still outrun both of them.”

Her laughter came easily, soft and unstrained, and it did something to the air, making it lighter, warmer, like the weight of the night had lifted.

The fire behind us had disappeared, swallowed by the hills, and the track ahead undulated with the rise and fall of the terrain. The moonlight stretched out in front of us, guiding the way forward .

The crunch of dirt underfoot added to the constant hum of insects buzzing around my ears.

A faint smile played on her lips. “Are you close to your brothers?”

“Yes. Very close.”

“You’re lucky,” she murmured. Her voice dipped as if she were lost in thought. “My sister and I—” She stopped mid-sentence, her words hanging in the air.

I glanced at her. “I didn’t realize you had a sibling. When you said you were an orphan?—”

“Izzy’s my stepsister,” she said, her tone softening. “My foster parents couldn’t have children, so they adopted me. Within four months, Mom was pregnant with her miracle child, Izzy.”

I huffed. “It’s weird how the world works.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you didn’t get along?” I asked cautiously.

“We did,” she said, shrugging. “For many, many years.”

“I’m sensing there’s a ‘but.’”

Tory gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah. You could say that. My foster dad was one of the early adopters of Bitcoin. He became . . . well, extremely wealthy. Practically overnight.”

I whistled low. “That’s incredible.”

“For a while, it was,” she said, scrunching her nose in that way I was quickly coming to love.

“We had amazing holidays, moved into a massive house on the beach, and had every gadget you could think of. Then we became even wealthier when my grandfather passed away. Since Dad was an only child, he inherited another small fortune.”

“This all sounds like a dream,” I said, raising a brow.

“It was,” she said. “Because of Dad’s inheritance, Izzy figured out that if Mom and Dad hadn’t adopted me, she would’ve been an only child. And she’d get everything. Meaning, she wouldn’t have to share with me.”

“Jesus,” I muttered. “How old was she when that happened?”

“Fourteen. It didn’t matter how much I told her I didn’t care about the money. She wouldn’t believe me. I meant it, too. I never wanted the money. I had an amazing upbringing, and I was just lucky they adopted me. So many orphans never get out of the system. ”

“Izzy sounds . . . very selfish.”

“That’s one way to put it,” she said. “Greed is an ugly beast.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” I said. “My brothers and I talk about the cases we work on all the time. The number of murders triggered by greed is shocking.”

“Well,” she said, smirking, “at least Izzy hasn’t murdered me yet.”

“Small blessings,” I said dryly. “Do you see her?”

“No. It was better for Mom and Dad if we visited separately. They’re the reason I could afford to become a pilot. I refused to take money from them after I moved out. It would only make things worse with Izzy. But when I turned twenty-one, they insisted on paying for my pilot’s license.”

I nodded. “They sound like good people.”

“They are,” she said, glancing toward the moon. “When they adopted me, I got really lucky.”

“Just like today,” I said, flashing her a small smile. “You’re shaping up to be one of the luckiest people I know.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not feeling it right now.”

“I don’t know,” I said, smirking. “After the day you’ve had, I’d say you’re very lucky.”

“Well, maybe we’ll get a miracle, and someone will just happen to drive along this track,” she said.

“I doubt it. We’re in the middle of nowhere, remember?”

She winced and stumbled. Her bare foot must have trodden on something sharp.

“You okay?” I asked, reaching toward her.

“Yeah,” she muttered, shifting her weight to her other foot. “Wish I had my other shoe, though.”

I glanced at her feet. “I’d give you mine if I had them. Want a piggyback?”

She giggled, the sound soft and unguarded, and my body betrayed me, heat stirring in my groin.

“I don’t think you could carry me,” she teased.

“What? Are you doubting my strength?” I said, feigning offense.

“Whoa, calm your farm, Hercules,” she said with a grin .

I chuckled. “Funny you mention that. The dog I trained before Onyx was named Hercules.”

At the sound of her name, Onyx glanced up at me, her ears perking slightly; she knew exactly who I was talking about.

“Onyx is amazing,” Tory said, leaning down to brush her hand over Onyx’s rump.

Onyx wagged her tail.

“She’s the best. She’s been in training for four years, but she’s already one of the best dogs I’ve worked with. She’s saved more lives than I can count.” I paused as the weight of my next words pressed down on me. “And found more bodies than I care to remember.”

Tory straightened, and as her gaze flicked to me, her brow furrowed. “Like those graves at Angelsong?”

“Yeah,” I said flatly. “Those poor kids. Still makes me sick thinking about it.”

She didn’t respond, her eyes searching my face as if trying to understand the weight I carried. Finally, she said, “It’s good that you do that for them. Those kids were forgotten for a very long time.”

“Over forty years.” I heaved a heavy sigh.

“It’s hard, though. My brothers and I are doing everything we can to give those victims a name so we can give them a proper burial.

But back when that orphanage was operating, there were no computers.

Everything was manual. And some asshole made damn sure none of the records were ever found. ”

“Sounds about right,” she said bitterly.

I nodded, trying to keep my frustration in check. “So, there’s a chance we’ll never figure out who those kids?—”

A flicker of light cut through the darkness ahead.

“Shit!” I said. “Get down.”

We ducked lower, and as I reached for her hand, she grabbed mine.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Easing up just enough to see over the brush, I scanned the tracks ahead. Twin beams of light crested a distant hill, bobbing and dipping as they disappeared, only to reappear moments later.

“A car’s coming.” My pulse kicked up a notch. I lunged for Onyx’s collar. “Quick, get off the trail.”

We scrambled into the bushes, crouching low as the vehicle approached. Leaves and branches scratched at my arms as I pulled Tory behind me.

The headlights swept over the trail, bouncing with the uneven dips and crests of the ground. The hum of the engine grew louder, and the light danced over the brush where we hid. I tightened my grip on Tory’s hand and clutched Onyx’s collar a little harder, willing her to stay calm.

As the vehicle drew closer, I caught a glimpse of something on its roof. I frowned, leaning forward slightly to get a better look. The lights hit another dip, then rose again, giving me another fleeting view. A light bar was mounted on the roof.

My chest tightened as I stared, desperate to confirm what I was seeing. When the vehicle crested the next hill, the unmistakable outline of a light bar on the roof came into view. The lights weren’t flashing, but there was no mistaking it: the car was an emergency vehicle.

“Jesus,” I whispered. “I think it’s a cop car.”

“You sure?” Tory turned to me, her face shifting from fear to hope.

“Positive.” Relief coursed through me as I stood and stepped onto the trail, waving my arms to flag the car down.

“But how did they find us?” Tory asked as she hurried after me.

“Must’ve seen the explosion,” I said, glancing back at her. Her expression was a mixture of relief and disbelief.

The car slowed as its headlights swept over us, blinding for a moment as it rolled closer. I could hardly believe our luck. We were saved.

I moved to the side of the trail to give the car room, and Tory slotted in beside me, her arm brushing against mine.

The vehicle came to a stop, and as the engine died, the driver’s door opened.

“Boy, am I glad to see—” My words caught in my throat as the driver stepped out. “Eddie?”

Confusion crashed through my relief like a tidal wave. “What are you doing up here?”

Eddie Walsh was a cop from Risky Shores, and was hundreds of miles away from his beat.

He stood near his open door, and in the moonlight, his expression was unreadable. But there was something off—a tightness to his jaw, a tension in his shoulders.

“Jaxson. Am I glad to see you.” Eddie’s gaze flicked to Tory. “And you.”

“Yeah,” I said, still catching my breath and scrambling to make sense of how he could be here.

He turned to face me. His shoulders squared and his hand snapped up, aiming a gun at my face. “Don’t fucking move.”