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“Good.” Clare spoke over her shoulder. “Youshouldknow your rights.”
Gage chuckled under his breath. “Come on. We need to search the east side. Jasper found a locked door, so he’s working on that and Liam is scouting outside. We think there are cameras, so if we can find where the surveillance feed goes to, then we can see where he went.”
The idea this guy was hiding somewhere wasn’t good.
They walked through a media room. Then a home gym. Upstairs had a wide window, with a view of the pool. Debris floated on the surface. Clothing. A chip bag, and several empty cans.
Clare wrinkled her nose.
“Don’t like the house?” He spoke to her, but kept his attention on the house and finding the guy who nearly killed them. “You grew up in one not much different from this.”
“Two streets over. And it wasn’t this big.”
“Bigger than my trailer.”
“You know, no one else has an issue with where you came from. Except you.” He’d always had a complex about being the guy from the wrong side of the tracks.
“People say stuff. Rub it in to make themselves feel better,” he said. “Mostly my mom. Wanting to make sure I never forgot who we were.”
“I say who I am,” Clare said. “Not someone else.”
“So who are you?”
“A soldier and a small business owner.”
“What were you saying about being more than I thought I was?” Gage didn’t finish the thought.
There was no time to ask him to elaborate, either.
She heard a rustle behind her and spun around, gun up. Empty hall. “This way.”
Gage followed her into a huge bedroom, rumpled covers. The curtain ruffled, and she headed for it walking slowly. Making almost no sound while her mind spun on what he’d said. She missed this. Gun up, tracking a suspect. She’d never been a cop, but she’d done this kind of stuff in the army. On operations where they’d teamed up with the CIA, usually Ember which was how they’d met.
Adrenaline-laced blood coursed through her body. Energizing her and pumping fresh oxygen to her brain. She was alive when she did this kind of work. More alive than sitting at a desk doing paperwork, or even leading a meeting.
She stood to one side and whipped the curtain back.
A black cat let out a screech of protest.
“Sorry.” Clare let the curtain move back into place.
As it moved, she caught a shift in the corner of her eye. Emerging from the closet.
She raced to the door and slammed him between the door and the frame. He cried out. She hauled the door open, and he stumbled.
Clare slammed her gun hand down on his forearm. He dropped the shotgun, and she kicked him in the stomach. He fell to the floor.
Clare stuck her weapon back in its holster and rolled the guy to his front, knelt, and tugged his arms behind his back while he squirmed. “Cut it out.” She clasped his wrists so he couldn’t go anywhere and looked up.
Liam stood at the door. Gage closer to her, covering her with his weapon.
“I need cuffs,” she said over her shoulder.
“She needs an application. Maybe we should ask Russ if he’d hire her for SWAT.”
A slight pull tugged up Gage’s lips. “I don’t think she wants to share a locker room with you.” He slid out cuffs and held them out. “Here you go, hero. But I can’t let you read him his rights.”
THIRTY-THREE
