Page 77 of Three Steps Behind

A moment later, a shot boomed out.

Deck re-entered, a busted drone in his hand.

“What is that?” Christian asked, rounding the corner. The top of his head brushed the low, arched doorway. “We really need to heighten these things.” He reached back and ran his hand along the underside of the adobe arch.

“I guess the architect didn’t plan on my six-four brother striding through a lot.”

“Eh.” Christian shrugged a big shoulder. “Enchilada casserole is on, by the way,” he said. “Bring that in and put it on the table so we can take it apart.”

“Good plan.” Deck followed him into the kitchen. Harper tried not to notice how well Deck’s Wranglers fit him. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she was thankful he was in front of her.

Harper took in the tantalizing scent of red chile as they entered the room.

“Hi, guys,” Riley said, turning to look over her shoulder as they filed in. Riley’s gaze caught on the drone in Deck’s hands. “What is that?”

Deck held it up. “Followed us home.” He laid it on the table.

“Grey was just getting ready to set that.”

Harper’s gaze flitted to Grey stepping out of the large pantry, napkins in his hand. His eyes fixed on the drone lickety-split.

“That’s not . . . ?”

“I’m afraid so.” Deck held a chair out for Harper, then scooted her in.

“Thank you.” She smiled. She had been doing more of that lately, but the drone parts strewn across the table made her stomach drop.

Was Nick spying on them? It seemed an immature-man move rather than a mobster move, like this Big Max. But she was just guessing.

Deck swung one leg over the bench seat and then the other, securing his position. He rifled through the parts.

Grey and Christian joined them at the table, all the men circling around.

“The camera is there,” Grey said, pointing at a tiny lens in what had been the front of the drone.

Deck lifted it, looked into it with a brash smile, then crushed it. “That takes care of whoever is watching.” He looked across the pine table at Christian. “Tech falls under your area.”

Harper studied the group. They really did each seem to have their own area of specialty: Christian, tech and security; Riley, tracking those on foot and hiding those in need; Grey, hunting people via a computer and records she’d never be able to find; and Deck . . .

Her admiring gaze settled on him. His gut instincts alone served the group well, but he was also the leader, the one they turned to when calls needed to be made and when facing the bad guys. Bad guys sounded funny, but villains didn’t sound any better. She supposed that’s what they were—bad guys.

A handful of years ago, when she first met Nick, she never would have guessed they’d be here, hunting down the ugly truth about him, but it’s where they sat—in the middle of his horrid ways. Really, who burned cremated remains? Only a killer trying to hide evidence. Nick murdered her friend. Tears smarted her eyes.

“You okay?” Deck rubbed her shoulder and, again, she didn’t flinch, craving his tender touch. His reassurance he was right there and not going anywhere—for now, but she didn’t want to think too far into the future. She just wanted to sit in the present with him.

She nodded and swiped her nose. “Just thinking of Taylor. I just can’t believe . . .”

“It’s hard to fathom what people are capable of.”

“It’s just so surreal.” But that’s how it’d been since she was ripped from her bed in Syria. Panic shivered down her spine.

Deck ran his hand down her arm and squeezed her hand.

She focused on him instead of the fear creeping into her chest—squeezing the air from her lungs. God had given her Deck to pull her through this. But why? After abandoning her, why bless her with Deck? She shook off the thought, directing her attention back on the group.

Christian took the heart of their dissection project and stood. “I’m going to take this over to my office and examine it. I’ll be right back.” He ducked out of the room, his head barely missing the arch.

“It’s freezing out there,” Andi’s voice echoed from the foyer.