“I’m okay,” she said softly.
“Didn’t ask.”
Her mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
She was wearing my extra vest under her jacket.Not ideal protection, but better than nothing.Twister had wanted her here.I had wanted her at the clubhouse.Hell, I still wanted her at the clubhouse.
But she’d been right.If Gene said something about the permits, she might catch what we missed.
That didn’t mean I had to like it.
Twister stepped onto the sidewalk and looked back at all of us.“No one spreads out too far,” he said.“We go up together.Magnum, eyes on the street.Hodge, left side.Swift, right.Wheels, Goldie stays with you.”
“Already know,” I said.
Goldie glanced at me, and I kept my eyes forward.She didn’t argue, which meant she was either getting smarter or saving it for later.Knowing Goldie, probably later.
We moved up the walk.The front porch boards looked freshly painted.The kind of paint job a man did every few years because he wanted the neighborhood to believe he was respectable.Two rocking chairs sat near the front window.A hanging basket of flowers swayed lightly in the breeze.
Hodge stepped slightly left, scanning the side yard.
Swift moved to the right near the porch railing.
Magnum stayed near the bottom of the steps, body angled toward the street.
Twister climbed the porch first, and I kept Goldie one step behind me.The closer we got to the front door, the more wrong the whole place felt.
There were no cameras I could see.No alarm sign in the yard.No locked gate.No dogs losing their minds from inside.No blacked-out SUV sitting in the drive.
Gene Kettler either wasn’t scared or was too tired to care.
Twister knocked with three hard raps.
We waited.
No footsteps.No movement.
Twister knocked again, and this time, something shifted inside.
A lock turned and then another.The door opened slowly, and Gene Kettler stood in the doorway wearing gray slacks, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a face that looked like it hadn’t seen a good night’s sleep in years.
He looked older than the picture Podge had found.
Thinner.More worn.
His dark hair was combed neatly, but there were deep lines around his eyes and mouth.Expensive glasses sat on his nose, and his hand rested against the edge of the door like he needed it to stay upright.
His gaze moved over Twister.Then me.Then Goldie.
He stopped there, and recognition flickered in his eyes.
Not surprise—recognition.
Then he laughed.A dry, empty sound.“Took you long enough.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.Goldie went still behind me.
Twister didn’t move.“Gene Kettler.”
