Which, partially, was true.
The morning air bit at his newly bare neck as he climbed out and headed for the door, keys jangling in his hand.
“Excuse me, sir!” Eden’s voice cut across the parking lot, all professional courtesy. “We don’t open for another twenty?—”
He turned, dangling the keys with a pointed look.
Eden stuttered to a stop. Her eyes went wide. Mouth dropped open as if she’d seen a ghost.
“C’mon.” Noah pushed through the door, running a hand over the foreign landscape of his scalp. “It’s not that different.”
“Uh…Yes. Yes, it is.” Eden scrambled after him. “What possessed you? Wait?—”
Her lips tugged into a grin. “Was this because of what I said about Eddie hitting on Meg?”
“No.” He shot her a scowl as he headed for his desk. His pack hit the floor with more force than necessary.
“It totally was.” Eden clapped her hands before grabbing her phone. The camera clicked before he could put a hand up, shout a protest. “Oh, that brooding look is perfect. You look hot, Noah. If I didn’t see you as a brother, I’d be half in love. I expect the number of girls hitting on you to double. Don’t be shocked if the girls start lining up.”
He grunted and dropped into his chair. “Girls don’t hit on me.”
“You’re adorably clueless.” Eden leaned against his doorframe, practically vibrating with glee. “Has Meg seen you yet?”
“No.” His computer screen flickered to life, giving him something to stare at besides Eden’s knowing smirk. “She wouldn’t care. What’s the weather report?”
Eden’s mouth opened—probably to launch into another Meg-related interrogation—then snapped shut.Smart girl.
“Nothing new on the storms. But Liam’s a no-show for his seven o’clock shift. No call, no text, nothing.”
Noah’s jaw clenched. This was exactly why he hated being the boss. People problems. He pulled out his phone, scrolling to Liam’s message from yesterday.
Liam
Going off grid for a few days. Can’t explain. Sorry.
From Teague, he’d expect this kind of recklessness, even irresponsibility. But Liam? The guy was solid. Reliable.
“I’ll handle it.” His palm scraped across his jaw, hitting nothing but skin. Still weird.
“Hey!” Teague’s head popped through the doorway, crackling with his usual energy. “I found Liam’s Bronco, and something’s—whoa.”
The man’s grin faltered, eyes going wide.
“Yourhair.”
“Yes, I cut it.” Noah’s fingers found the bridge of his nose, squeezing. “Not a federal case. What about the Bronco?”
Teague shot a glance at Eden—some silent communication that made Noah’s shoulders tense. When Teague refocused, his usual grin had vanished.
“His Bronco is parked by that weird camper bus. Liam’s gear’s missing but his phone was left on the seat. By the looks of the camper, seems they left in a hurry.”
Noah frowned. “You went inside the camper?”
“Let’s say I didn’t.” Teague’s eyes slid sideways. “For plausible deniability. But I scouted around, found his climbing rope disappearing down the rim. Set up for a rappel into the canyon.”
A pen appeared in Noah’s hand, tapping rapid-fire against his desk. “He knows protocol. Canyon descents require documentation. This doesn’t?—”
The door swung open.
