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“How long will you be gone?”
“An hour, max. I'm getting Randy to come down and stay with you.”
“I'll be fine by myself.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended, colored by the memory of tactical teams and splintering wood. “You're not going to be alone. Not for five minutes. Not after last night.”
She studied my face in the dim light, reading the tension I couldn't quite hide.
“You're thinking about the SWATting.”
Not a question. An observation. Joy had gotten good at reading the shadows that crossed my face when memories hit.
“Hard not to think about it.”
“That's not what I meant.” She scooted closer, her hand finding mine. “You're blaming yourself for not seeing it coming.”
How could I explain the failure that gnawed at my gut? The certainty that I should have anticipated this move, should have prepared for the possibility that our stalker would use law enforcement as a weapon?
“I should have thought of it. Should have warned you it was a possibility.”
“Graham, how could you have known? Nobody expects something like that.”
“I'm supposed to think of everything. That's my job.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“Your job is to love me and keep me safe. You're doing both. What happened last night wasn't your fault.”
I leaned down and kissed her forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of her honeysuckle shampoo mixed with the fear-sweat we'd both been carrying since the police invasion.
“Get some more sleep if you can.”
The knock on the door came as I was pulling on my boots. Joy was already up, moving around the small room with the efficient motions of someone who'd learned not to get too comfortable anywhere.
“That'll be Randy.”
I opened the door to find Joy's brother looking rumpled and worried. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles, and his eyes carried the hollow look of someone who'd seen too much in too short a time.
Randy peered around me and waved at his sister. “Morning, JoJo. How'd you sleep?”
“Like someone who got raided by SWAT,” Joy replied dryly. “So hardly at all.”
“Yeah, that sucked. Seth's still processing the whole thing. Keeps muttering about ‘psychological warfare.’”
I grabbed my wallet and room key from the nightstand. Joy appeared at my elbow, rising on her toes to press a kiss to my lips.
“Be careful. Watch for anything suspicious.”
“Always do. Especially now.”
Her snort said exactly what she thought of my ability to avoid trouble.
Roan was idling in the parking lot when I made it downstairs, my truck was idling in the quiet pre-dawn stillness. It looked pristine despite the hell it had been through. Fresh paint covered the stalker's message, and new tires gleamed under the parking lot lights. Roan got out so that I could climb behind the wheel. I immediately relaxed into the familiar comfort of sitting next to another special operator who understood the weight we carried.
“You look like you've been through a meat grinder.”
“Feel like it too. How's Lisa?”
