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“ D o you think Sabina is gloating over being right about the location?” Juliana asked.

Stone scanned the area as they approached. Lowery had called two hours ago and given them exactly those two hours to reach the meeting point—the old granary in Galt. Sitting on the edge of an expansive field east of town, it consisted of a warehouse, two large silos, and nothing else.

Stone shook his head. “This was too easy a puzzle for her, not something worthy of gloating over.”

Juliana chuckled softly. “That tracks with her personality. Look, there’s the car,” she said, nodding to the dark blue SUV parked beside the warehouse as they drove by. HICC’s advance team was currently tucked away in various hidey-holes inside the building and thirty minutes earlier, they’d reported Lowery’s arrival.

“When do you think the others will arrive?” she asked as they drove by. They’d double back and park once he had a feel for the location. He trusted the HICC team, he knew their reputation, but he wanted to see things with his own eyes.

“After we’re inside. They’ll want to make sure we’re following the rules,” he replied. It was a guess, but an educated one.

“That we’re alone, have the materials, and aren’t carrying any weapons,” she said, repeating Lowery’s list. He nodded, tension swirling in his gut. At least he and Juliana were kitted out with all sorts of body cams and listening devices, thanks to HICC.

He glanced around for any sign of their backup. HICC had a team of three inside the building, and the FBI had multiple agents nearby, as well as a chopper waiting in a field a half mile away. That he couldn’t see them was both good and bad—if he couldn’t spot them, neither would the triad. But he’d have to trust, rather than verify, they were in position as planned.

A county road intersected with theirs, and he used it to turn around. In silence, they headed back toward the granary, where he pulled up next to the SUV.

“Are you ready?” he asked. Juliana, who’d been intently studying the patchwork of farming, turned her cornflower eyes on him. He was going to be a sucker for those eyes for the rest of his life.

“Does it matter?” she asked. He frowned. She reached across the console and laid her hand on his. Of its own volition, his turned and wrapped around hers. “This isn’t something someone like me is ever ready for,” she said. “Sometimes we have to do what we have to do, and how we feel about it doesn’t matter.”

He scowled. “How you feel about things always matters,” he grumbled.

Her indulgent smile made him feel petulant, but he didn’t miss the appreciation in her eyes either. She might not agree with him, but she liked that she—and her feelings—mattered to him.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, trying one more time to keep her from walking into the lion’s den. It was futile, he knew, but he had to try.

“You’re right. We don’t,” she said. “But we are. We’re going to do this because we need to replant the piece of your property that burned. And we need to build a fence for Sherman so we don’t have to worry about him running off. And we want to be able to eat out whenever we want or go for a hike. But more importantly, we’re going to do this because it’s the right thing.”

He huffed. Then tugging her forward, he kissed her. A kiss for luck, sure, but more a kiss of admiration. And one of disbelief. That this woman, this smart, kind, quirky, slightly clumsy woman who made him laugh, showed him what courage was, and drove him more than a little crazy with lust, loved him still boggled his mind. She might not have said it yet, but he knew. And to make sure she didn’t have any doubts, he needed to tell her he felt the same.

“I—”

She set a finger over his lips to stop the words. “Don’t say it now,” she said, knowing exactly what he’d been about to share. “I don’t want to hear it when we’re about to meet three dangerous men. It feels too much like a goodbye or, I don’t know, like you’re doubting we’ll walk out alive. We will walk out alive. We will stop the decades of criminal behavior. And we will build that fence and teach Sherman some tricks. Well, we’ll try on that last one,” she added with a smile. “When we’re not walking into danger, when we’re somewhere quiet—for both our minds and our bodies—you can decide if you still want to say it. And if you do, whenever that is, I’ll be ready to hear it.”

He frowned. “I want to say it now.”

“Duly noted,” she replied, checking the safety on the gun she’d pulled from the glove compartment as he’d shown her. “You still have to wait. Ready?” she asked, tucking the weapon into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. They’d decided to try to smuggle a weapon in. Her cropped, fitted jeans wouldn’t hide anything, and her top was barely loose and long enough to cover the small gun at her back. Between her clothes and her lack of history with weapons, they hoped it would be enough for the triad to overlook searching her.

With a huff, he opened his door, pocketed the keys, then rounded the truck. Juliana carried the file in one hand, and he took her other in his. “Whatever he says, do not leave my side,” he said. “He will likely be armed, or if he’s not, Gregor or Polinsky will be. Possibly both. HICC needs us to stay together.”

“Did you know that Mike Day, a SEAL, was shot twenty-seven times and lived?” she said.

He pulled her to a stop. She looked at him. He raised a brow. She winced. “I should have said something about puppies and rainbows, shouldn’t I?”

Stone tugged her close and kissed her cheek. “Day lived, so that’s good. But no, I’d rather not hear about people being shot twenty-seven times. Especially not as we’re about to enter…” He nodded to the warehouse.

“Galt was founded in 1869,” she said as they continued toward the door of the old granary. “It was laid out by the Central Pacific Railway when Obed Harvey convinced them to lay tracks across his land. It’s named after Galt, Ontario, although the only similarity I could find is that they were both farming communities.”

“And before the Europeans?” he asked.

“Miwok Indians lived here. Primarily three tribes. Most were ‘moved’ to the missions when the Spanish occupied the land. Then when the Mexicans won it during the war of independence, they encouraged settlements and the land was given in a grant in…” She made a face, trying to remember. He liked history as much as the next person but didn’t often take note of the details. Those details served a purpose now, though. Focusing on them helped keep Juliana’s nerves at bay.

“1844!” she said, remembering. “After that, farmers took over, then the railway came, then eventually the highway. It’s stayed small though, only about 23,000 people.”

He appreciated agricultural lands and their vastness. He preferred his mountains, though. Mountains that they’d hopefully get back to soon.

“Ready?” he asked, pausing at the slightly ajar door. Her eyes darted to the strip of darkness, then bounced to his. She nodded. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said on an exhale as he shifted her to the side and pushed on the warm, smooth metal.

She started inching forward, but he stopped her, pressing their backs to the outer wall as the door swung wide. When nothing happened, when no bullets came flying or bombs exploded, he called out. “Lowery.”

“Cautious one, aren’t you?” a voice answered from the deep in the shadows.

“I find it a helpful trait in staying alive,” Simon responded.

“Come in. It’s just me. For now,” he said. “Show your hands.”

Simon squeezed Juliana’s hand in reassurance before letting go and stepping into the darkness. As planned, she stayed close enough for him to feel the occasional bump of her body against his right shoulder.

He moved slowly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the shadows and filtered light. Scanning the area, he took in the details of the former processing part of the facility. It no longer contained any machinery and was little more than a huge open—and empty—room that smelled vaguely of oil and decay.

Something crunched under his foot, and he glanced down to see the remnants of a bird’s nest. Looking up, large beams, littered with bird feces and swallows’ nests, along with twigs and other scraps, crisscrossed the space. They had more important things to worry about, but he really hoped that getting shit on by a bird wasn’t on the agenda for the day. The guys would never let him live it down.

“Hands,” Lowery reminded them, pulling Stone’s attention back to the room. They both dutifully raised theirs as he searched the area. Lowery stood in the southeast corner, his back to the wall. It wasn’t hard to deduce his plan. Once he was sure they were unarmed, Polinsky and Gregor would come in from behind, surrounding him and Juliana.

“Stop,” Lowery said. They stopped. He stepped out of the darkest shadows enough for them to see the gun pointed at them. Juliana sucked in a breath but remained quiet.

“McLean, take two steps to your left. Lift your shirt, then your pant legs. I’d be remiss if I didn’t check you for weapons,” Lowery said.

Stone shuffled more than stepped but did as asked. He lifted his T-shirt high enough for Lowery to see the band of his jeans, then deliberately turned in a slow circle. When he faced Lowery again, the man nodded toward his feet. Lowery might be a politician now, but he hadn’t lost his comfort with guns.

Stone lifted a leg, then tugged his jeans up over his ankles enough for Lowery to confirm he wore no ankle holster. When Lowery nodded again, he repeated the move with his other leg.

“Very good. Kudos to you both for following directions,” Lowery said. His gaze flickered to Juliana, swept over her fitted jeans, exposed ankles, and silky tank top, then lingered on the file she held.

“Why don’t you show him what you brought,” Stone said, shifting to face Juliana. He needed to retrieve the gun from her before the others arrived. Goddess that she was, she didn’t hesitate. Stepping forward, she held the file out. As she moved, Stone set his hand on the small of her back—a gesture of intimacy to anyone who watched—then slid the gun out of her waistband.

“Here,” she said to Lowery, holding the file out. She also took a diagonal step forward and to the left, blocking the man’s view as Stone shoved the gun into his own waistband, ensuring his shirt covered it fully.

“Not yet,” Lowery barked.

Juliana froze. Glancing back, Stone gave her a tiny nod. “It’s okay,” he said, touching her arm, letting her know he’d completed the transfer. “I guess Lowery wants to wait for the others.”

“Yes, we do have a plan,” a voice behind them said. Stone had heard the soft crunch of car wheels on the gravel drive and knew the other two had arrived. Even so, he flinched at Polinsky’s booming voice. Juliana reacted more strongly. She startled, jerking back and almost losing her grip on the file. Stone reached out and steadied her before turning around.

“Polinsky. Gregor,” he said. With Lowery now at their back and the two men fanning out, he and Juliana were indeed surrounded. Slipping an arm around her waist, he shifted so they faced the room and he could keep an eye on the three men. The move also had the added benefit of putting his back to the wall. He didn’t think Polinsky or Gregor would see the weapon tucked into his waistband, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s be quick about this. The file?” Lowery held out his hand.

Juliana looked over her shoulder at him, and he nodded. Rather than walk to Lowery, though, she bent down and slid the manila envelope containing the evidence across the floor. It didn’t quite make it to Lowery, who scowled but took the four strides needed to reach it before picking it up.

“How much do they know?” Polinsky asked.

“I haven’t even opened it,” Lowery shot back. “If you’re so anxious, why don’t you ask them.”

Juliana shot him another look, and he gave a tiny nod. The relationship among the three was fraying, just as they’d hoped.

Polinsky turned to them. “You heard us that day, didn’t you?” he asked Juliana. Stone set a hand on her back again. The point of all of this was to get the men talking enough to incriminate themselves. He’d be more than happy when the day was over, but for now, they had a job to do.

“I did,” Juliana said, her voice quiet. She cleared her throat, then repeated her answer more loudly.

“You should have let it go,” Gregor said.

Juliana’s brow furrowed. “It would have been easier to let it go if Leandro Brown hadn’t shown up at my door the next day. You waved a red flag with that move and left me with no other choice.” She’d started looking into it before then, but hinting that whoever had made that decision was responsible for escalating the situation was one more way of breeding dissension.

The three men looked at each other. “So you do know things,” Polinsky said.

Juliana couldn’t help but snort. “I’m a librarian, I know a lot of things. But about this? Yeah, I do. I know that you two”—she pointed to Polinsky and Lowery—“stole about seventy-five pounds of gold each during Desert Storm. I know that Supervisor Lowery used it to buy an apartment and put himself through college and that Lieutenant Polinsky used it to buy a house. Not terrible ways to spend the money. Especially not when you consider that until Gregor came along, you both were on the straight and narrow. Hadn’t so much as received a speeding ticket.”

Polinsky and Lowery shared a look, as if jointly, and silently, agreeing that Gregor was responsible for the whole mess. They’d stolen the gold, but their current predicament rested entirely on Gregor’s shoulders. It wasn’t true, of course. They could have made other choices. But again, driving a wedge between them was their goal.

“And now, here we are,” Juliana said. “Gregor is blackmailing Lowery for votes on key land use decisions. Polinsky is being blackmailed to look the other way when Gregor allows drug dealers to use his development sites for their business.” She paused, then shook her head. “I’m not a killer, not without good cause, but I can’t really blame you two for wanting to off Gregor,” she said. “Not only is he making a shit ton of money on the developments, but I assume he’s getting cuts of the dealers’ profits. While what do you all get? Nothing but the specter of your crimes coming to light.”

“I like how you’re trying to turn us against each other, Ms. Morganstern,” Gregor said.

“ Dr. Morganstern,” she shot back.

Gregor almost rolled his eyes. “It might have started that way, but things change. I’m hardly likely to turn them in when it would implicate me as well.”

Stone shifted behind Juliana, a subtle acknowledgment that Gregor had just implicated all three of the men. He didn’t know if that would be enough for Callie, but it was something.

“That may be true,” Juliana conceded. “But Lowery and Polinsky obviously don’t see it that way. Why else would they keep giving in to your demands? Why else would they think that killing you was the only way to end things?”

The answer to that question piqued Stone’s interest, too. Why did Lowery and Polinsky feel they needed to kill Gregor rather than just refuse his requests? As Gregor pointed out, reporting them to the authorities would implicate him as well.

All eyes turned to Gregor. A bird scratched at the roof, a truck rumbled by, and in the distance, a siren sounded.

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he intended to say were swallowed by an earsplitting bang that ricocheted and echoed through the room.