“Take your time," a familiar voice said.
Dove dropped her feet to the floor with a soft thud and sat straighter. “Hey Juniper. What brings you by?"
Sterling pushed off the desk. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?"
"I'm fine. I just decided you're right." Juniper inched closer to Sterling. “Is that Nick Colter?”
Buddy glanced toward Sterling.
Sterling crossed to her and held out his hand.
The simple gesture reminded her that she really wasn't alone in this town.
She smiled and took it as his fingers closed around hers, soft, yet reassuring. He guided her toward his desk and offered her his chair. She took it, pushing it slightly toward the center of the room so she could see the whiteboards and set her case on the ground by her feet.
"How the hell do you know Nick Colter?" Buddy asked.
"I'd like that to know that, too," Nick's voice boomed over the phone's speaker.
She took a moment to study the words written in block letters behind Buddy.
Doyle. Meridian. Frost. Ashbourne. Rutgers. Anthony. Royce. Graham.
And then there was: Devlin Pace. Tallie James. Khalid Nazari.
In the middle of all of that sat Shrike.
Her stomach tightened.
Sterling stayed behind her. One hand settled at the back of her neck, his thumb pressing gently into the muscle just below her hairline.
It was such a small touch, and yet it helped way too much.
“Hey, Nick. It’s Junie.”
Another silence.
“As in Stratton?” Nick asked.
Buddy dropped the marker.
Juniper closed her eyes for one second, then opened them and stared at the board because it was easier than looking at the people who she'd fed and who in turn had teased her, trusted her, and let her pour them drinks.
“Yeah,” she said. “But now it’s Juniper Solstice. To everyone in this room, I’m Juniper, and we need to keep it that way.”
Dove’s chair creaked. “Holy shit. I didnotsee that one coming, and I'm usually in tune with those things.”
“Oookaaay,” Cullen said. “I’m going to need someone to tell me if I’m supposed to be impressed, pissed off, or worried I’ve been under-tipping a federal agent for months.”
Juniper laughed. “I understand everything but the undertipping.”
Buddy bent over and picked up the marker. “Well, that makes a few things make a hell of a lot more sense.”
“Does it?” Cullen asked. “Because I’m still stuck on the part where the woman who makes my burger medium rare and gives me grief about putting ketchup on everything is apparently a federal agent.”
“I don't make your burger,” Juniper said. "And since I'm coming clean, I'm an FBI agent currently working for the National Security Division."
Cullen blinked. “That sounds both bad ass and utterly terrifying.”
