“Killing her would eliminate any bounty for us.”
“Yes,” I add. “No one can retaliate properly. The people funding her will start looking over their shoulders instead of pointing fingers at us.”
He considers that before giving a small nod.
“That, I can work with.”
I lean back slightly and smile.
“I have some ideas.”
Chapter 42
Seth
We had to leave the Oregon safe house.
The shooter is enough of a warning. He probably watched Brooke for hours before he took the shot. Kristie sent someone to finish what the manor failed to do.
We pack within the hour.
The drive north is not quiet.
Traffic clogs the highway for miles. Headlights stretch ahead of us in a slow line while rain streaks across the windshield. Travis grips the steering wheel like it is trying to escape him. His voice fills the car the entire time.
“I’m just saying this is insane. Someone tried to shoot her. That is a real thing that happened today. A sniper. A professional sniper.”
“Travis,” Beau says.
“What?”
“Shut the hell up.”
Travis lasts about thirty seconds before he starts again.
“I’m just processing the situation out loud. Some people need to talk through trauma.”
“Do it quieter,” Beau mutters.
In the back seat, Brooke is the calmest person in the car.
Considering it is her umpteenth near death experience in the last few months, she handles it better than anyone.
Luna sits curled in her lap the entire drive. The cat tucks herself into the crook of Brooke’s arm. Brooke strokes her absentmindedly until her movements slow.
Eventually her head tips sideways and comes to rest against my shoulder. She falls asleep like that.
Her breathing turns slow and steady while the highway lights pass over us in quiet flashes. One of her hands stays curled loosely around Luna’s back while the other rests against my arm.
Krueger lies across the rear cargo area behind us, watching the road with alert eyes.
The Washington house is different.
It is not a shack. It is not a bunker. It is nothing that screams hiding.
From the outside, it looks like a private mountain home owned by someone with money and good taste. The structure sits back from the road among tall pines that block most of the surrounding view. A timber frame supports the high roofline. A thick stone foundation wraps the lower level. Wide windows face the forest but reflect the darkness outside, making it impossible to see inside from a distance. A wraparound deck circles the front of the house.
Nothing about it suggests danger. Nothing about it suggests the kind of people who are about to live there.
