Page 38

Jaxson

Dawn was breaking as I turned onto the main street of Risky Shores.

The sun painted the eastern horizon in molten gold, and its light danced across the vast ocean like scattered coins.

A handful of islands punctuated the view, including Kangaroo Island with its abandoned remains of what was once a luxury resort.

That place was where Onyx had proved herself on her first job.

She’d found a body in the back section of a dusty bowling alley that everybody else had missed, even the forensics team. I knew then that she was special.

Just like Tory. She was more than special.

I watched her in the mirror, caught between wanting to let her sleep and wanting to wake her to chat.

And I never wanted to chat. I'd met plenty of brave, tough women in my line of work.

Tory was all that and so much more, and I wanted to uncover everything about her.

She carried herself like someone who'd somehow missed seeing the warrior staring back from her reflection.

She was kind, funny, and courageous. Most people would have shattered under half the weight she'd shouldered since those assholes shot her plane down. And the way she handled that bullet wound was fascinating. I knew men who would cry like a baby if they’d been shot.

Tory had resisted even mentioning it.

Maybe that was what drew me to her, the way she wore her pain and fear like armor instead of a burden. No self-pity, no victim's stance. Just pure, raw determination.

Her breathtaking smiles cracked through all my carefully constructed walls, making me forget I was just supposed to be protecting her, not falling for her.

Even now, with her hair a wild tangle, neck smudged with soot, and shadows haunting her eyes, she was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.

After my last relationship had ended ugly .

. . real fucking ugly . . . I'd sworn off girlfriends and made myself a promise: no more partners until I found out what had happened to Charlotte.

The cold case of my sister's disappearance had eaten up twenty years of my life, and what wasn't consumed by that went to training K9s and being with my family. We needed each other.

But the pull toward Tory was becoming a tactical problem. Yet something in me wanted to make room for her.

Tory startled awake like she had sensed me watching her, and I snapped my gaze away. Beside me, Whitney was still out cold, mouth slack, breathing with a wet rasp that told me his smoke-damaged lungs were far from good.

"Are we here?" Tory mumbled, rolling her head side to side.

"Almost."

Twenty minutes of rest had barely touched the exhaustion etched around her eyes, but that quiet defiance still burned there, drawing me in like the smell of a barbecue.

I turned onto School Road, passing a tiny church, a sprawling cemetery, and overgrown fields, but thankfully no houses.

At the end of the cul-de-sac, a long, low-slung building materialized, but it was the sea of vehicles flooding the grounds that stopped my heart cold.

Every instinct screamed at me to turn the cruiser around and get the hell out of there.

"Goddammit! So much for keeping this quiet." I shot Tory a sharp look in the mirror. "You know about this?"

"No." She shuddered away the last wisps of sleep. "I have no idea what this is."

The cruiser bounced over the curb, jolting Whitney awake. "We there?"

"Yeah. Along with half the damn country, it seems. "

None of the vehicles were cop cars, though, so that was a good sign.

"Shit." Whitney scrubbed at his stubbled jaw, squinting through the windshield. "Is that an old schoolhouse?"

"Don’t know, but it better be secure." I guided the cruiser into a spot marked 'Reserved for Headmaster,' but the letters were so faded they were barely visible against the weathered wood.

"Ha. Picked it." Whitney smirked. "It is a schoolhouse."

"I just hope there’s a hot shower," Tory mumbled, and my damn mind conjured an image of her standing naked under a tumbling cascade.

"I need food, I'm starving." Whitney groaned, saving me from mental images I should not have.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, and me. Onyx too. It’s a wonder she didn’t start eating the upholstery."

Before I could kill the engine, Whisper and Parker materialized from the front doorway like they'd been keeping vigil. As we stumbled out on stiff legs, Onyx dashed into the bushes.

Whisper raced straight to Tory, and their fierce embrace spoke of deep worry. Even in the pre-dawn light, I caught the glint of tears neither of them bothered to hide.

Parker faltered for a beat as his eyes scanned Whitney and me with the intensity unique to triplets, like he could see injuries the rest of the world might miss. He closed the distance in three strides, pulling me to his chest so hard I felt his heartbeat hammering against mine.

"Man, am I glad to see you. You good?" The relief in his voice was raw. His handshake and shoulder clap carried the unspoken messages that had been racing through our blood since birth.

"We're alive." I huffed, meeting his gaze with the silent communication we'd perfected since the womb. "That's a start."

Parker reached for Whitney next, embracing him with the same desperate relief. When he stepped back, his expression shifted to forced lightness; another survival tactic we'd all mastered. "Where's your shirt, dude?"

Whitney's half-smile completed our triangle that only identical DNA could fully understand. He jerked his chin toward Tory. "Tory needed it. Hers had too much blood from the bullet wound. "

"You got shot?" Whisper blurted. “Where?” She stepped back from Tory, looking her over.

"I'm fine," Tory said, throwing Whitney a look that could've melted steel. Like she'd been planning to keep that little detail under wraps as long as possible.

More people emerged from the old schoolhouse, and I recognized Ryder Westwood, Border Force brass and Tory's boss. Being here spoke volumes about how much Tory meant to him and his team. I respected that kind of loyalty.

A man with a prosthetic leg strode toward us with the fluid grace of someone long adapted to the modification. He had to be Cobra. I’d heard a lot about Aria’s technical wizard.

"Cole Tanner," he said, using his civilian name, offering his hand with a grip that matched his direct gaze. “I’m so glad to see you three."

He gestured to a stunning redheaded woman at his side. "This is my partner, Yasmin. Welcome to our old schoolhouse-turned-safehouse."

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said, frowning. “I thought you were in that warehouse explosion.”

“Not in it, no. But I was there when it blew up. Lucky I was outside the building when it happened and dove into the ocean. I saved Maya and Aria. They were both unconscious when I pulled them from the water.”

"Christ. They okay?" Anger and shock vibrated through me.

“Yeah. They both have a concussion and cuts that needed stitching. They should be discharged from the hospital soon.”

“Phew, that’s a relief.” Beyond the old schoolhouse, empty paddocks stretched toward the horizon. The isolation felt oppressive. "Any word on Blade and Viper?"

Cole's expression crumbled before he caught himself. "Still missing. Rescue teams are combing the rubble, but . . ."

He didn't finish. He didn't have to.

"Onyx and I need to get to Rosebud," I said, already moving toward the trunk. "Every minute counts if they're trapped under that building."

I popped the trunk lid and the others gathered behind me.

Whitney joined my side. "I'll take the skull," he said, reaching between the boxes. "This is precious evidence. "

"Oh, gross." Yasmin recoiled, jerking back. "What the hell, guys?"

"Where did you find that?" Ryder's voice carried the sharp edge of someone connecting unwanted dots.

"Angelsong Orphanage," I said. "In a hidden basement that everyone missed for decades. Whitney found these boxes there, too."

"Right before a woman tried to burn the building down," Whitney added.

Cobra whistled. "A woman? Do you mean B?"

"That's our working theory.” Whitney's jaw tightened. “She won't be happy we salvaged these documents."

"You’re not wrong. That bitch is going to lose it," Cobra said, with the dread of someone who'd seen the cruelty B could inflict.

"Understatement of the year." I grabbed a box, and the weight caught me off-guard. Either these files were dense as hell, or twenty hours without sleep was finally catching up to me. "Where are we securing these?"

Cobra hefted two more boxes. "Follow me."

We formed an improvised convoy, each carrying evidence that might finally expose the assholes who had been poisoning our towns for decades.

We crossed the old school's wraparound verandah into what was once a reception area but now had a little wicker chair and lampshade.

Cobra guided us down a wide hallway, passing open doorways of what I imagined used to be classrooms, but my mind was on Blade and Viper.

Those men were tough, military. Trained to survive, to endure.

If anyone could hold on under that rubble, it would be them.

Having Onyx with me doubled our chances. When it came to tracking, she was worth a dozen search teams.

One of the old classrooms had been transformed into a tactical hub. Monitors lined an entire wall, and the feeds looked crystal clear. I had to hand it to Whisper, she knew how to pick a safehouse.

Onyx trotted ahead, her nose twitching with interest at Cobra's prosthetic. "Heads up,” I said. “You've got an admirer checking out your leg."

Cobra chuckled. "I’m used to it. Zena's mutt, Charlie, loses his shit every time I walk. Yasmin locked him in our room for a while so we can get you guys settled."

"Zena? Blade's partner?"

"Yeah. She's down at Rosebud with Viper’s partner, Harper. That’s why we're watching Charlie."