“Uh…”
Every Ranger in the room instantly sharpened again.
“What?” Wolf asked.
Trigger frowned toward the rain-soaked street outside.
“Tell me that’s one of ours.”
My pulse spiked instantly.
Tate moved toward the window fast.
Then stopped cold.
“Son of a bitch.”
Fear clawed up my throat.
“What?” I whispered.
Nobody answered immediately.
Outside, through sheets of rain?—
A black sedan rolled slowly past the tavern.
Too slowly.
Tinted windows.
No headlights.
Watching.
Hunting.
And as it passed beneath the streetlamp?—
the passenger window lowered slightly.
Just enough for someone inside to hold up a photograph.
My photograph.
Then the car kept driving.
18
BLAZE
The second that sedan rolled past the tavern, every instinct in my body went lethal.
Because Flick was right.
They had to turn on a light inside the car for us to see the photograph.
Which meant one thing.
