“Sheriff.”
Tension crackled between them immediately.
Not hostile.
Professional.
The kind between two people trying to assess how bad things just became.
Tate holstered his weapon slowly.
“That wasn’t my department.”
“I know,” Ava answered.
“Somebody used cloned units and fake badges.”
Wolf stepped back inside behind him, rain dripping from his dark jacket.
“Plates came back stolen.”
Of course they did.
Trigger slammed the tavern door shut again hard enough to rattle the bottles behind the bar.
“Well,” he muttered, “that feels personal.”
No kidding.
Isabel suddenly started crying softly behind Ava.
Not loud.
Just exhausted terrified tears.
Flick instantly pulled away from me.
Of course she did.
Even shaking herself apart, she still went toward the girl.
Toward someone hurting worse.
God.
Watching her kneel beside Isabel nearly wrecked me.
Because she was terrified too.
But she still reached back for other people anyway.
Always had.
Tate watched the interaction quietly before looking toward me.
Low enough only Rangers could really hear, he said:
“That woman yours?”
