Page 33 of Shark’s Rise

“Enter,” I called out.

“Hey.” Grant issued his usual response while efficiently shutting the door behind him.

“Hey, man. How you doing?” I didn’t look up, instead focusing on finishing a final email before I could give him my full attention.

“Not too bad.”

“But?” I spoke it because his tone already implied it.

“But just once, I’d love to walk in that door and have you look at me. Like it mattered that I just came in the damn room.”

Immediately, I dropped my face into my palms. “Excuse me?”

“I just don’t get why you’re so rude all the time.”

“Are you serious?” But when I looked up, the truth was there across his face. “Holy shit. You’re serious.”

He shook his head, giving in to more of his apparent hurt. “Forget it.”

But that was the thing. Now I couldn’t.

Was all of this actually happening?

“It’s called familiarity, Grant,” I finally stated. “I’ve known you longer than anyone else in my life. Other than Pia, obviously.” I rubbed my temples and decided to get some ibuprofen from my bathroom while I defended myself. “I just assume there is a level of comfort between us that I can’t have around others. Is that wrong now? Do you want me to treat you with the formality of a stranger?” I emerged from the bathroom with my arms spread. “Fuck, man, give me some slack. You act like a woman on her period sometimes.”

Grant was already stretched out in his usual spot on my black leather sofa. Thankfully, he didn’t have his feet up on the coffee table, so we could avoid beating that dead horse this morning.

“Damn,” he muttered while I lowered into the chair facing him. “You’re right, man. I’m sorry for jumping your shit the minute I walked in.”

“It’s fine,” I grumbled. “We’re all tense, for obvious reasons. And you’ve had one of the shittier shifts too.”

“Hmmm. Might have to agree with you there.” Despite his sardonic words, the guy laughed out the delivery. “Seriously, I think I’ve been spending too much time around Rio Gibson. That woman…is a demon.”

I narrowed my gaze. “But you’re laughing about that too.”

“I…I am?” Grant stood. Sat. Stood again, Okay, the guy was always restless, but this was an even bigger dose of his nervous energy than usual. It continued as he beelined to the kitchenette to fetch a bottle of water. As he turned and tossed one to me, I took a chance to eye him with curiosity. “Probably overcaffeinated,” he explained. “I’ve been up since four a.m. at the kitchen. Those women work their asses off, man.” He took a big gulp from his bottle. “It’s shocking how much effort goes into the lunch run alone—all for demanding bastards like us, who don’t want to be bothered with getting their own damn lunch.”

“Well, I can have Elijah put one of the other guys in the kitchen,” I offered. “If the schedule, or Rio’s attitude, are becoming too much to deal with…”

“I can handle her, damn it.” Grant’s protest had me double-taking again. I couldn’t figure out if his vehemence was defensive or offensive, and that alone was strange. Twombley was usually one of the straight shooters in my life.

But what about my life had been usual lately?

But now wasn’t the time for cosmic questions. I cut to the core of the matter at hand here. “To be really honest, man, I’m not even certain the tight surveillance on her is necessary anymore. It doesn’t seem like anyone has been sniffing around since we moved Abbi out to the desert. Whoever took those pictures of her seems to know she’s not in LA anymore.” I thought quietly for a second, attempting to be more relieved than troubled about that, before adding, “I mean, nothing new has been sent to me. And there have been no more wildlife visits in my backyard either. That’s a good sign, right?”

Grant didn’t respond right away. He took a full beat to compress his lips and flare his nostrils. “I’d rather stay near Rio, if it’s all the same.”

“Of course.” I kept my response neutral.

He relaxed his stance. “Thanks. I think it’s for the best. Even though she won’t admit it, she’s spooked. And, believe it or not, she’s finally starting to trust me.” He inserted a new chuckle, seemingly as an afterthought. He was doing a lot of that in this conversation, I’d noticed. “Besides, I don’t think there’s any way we can really guarantee whoever is behind this—”

I cut him off with a hard huff. “It’s Viktor. Damn it, why are we all still dancing around the problem like we don’t know who’s causing it?”

“Fine, fine.” He flung up his hands, palms out. “But if that’s the case, I’m still not convinced he wouldn’t do something to Abbi’s family—Rio, Sean, or even any of her brothers back east—to flush Abbigail out of hiding.”

He finished the last of his water and tossed the empty bottle in the recycle bin beside the trash can. As he finished, my best friend lifted his stare back to me. We held the mutual regard for a couple of moments.

“What?” Grant prompted at last. “What is it?”