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“Yeah, pretty much.” He winked at Harper who blushed. She was so beautiful his heart ached. But he forced himself to keep his tone light. “Harper wins; she gets first dibs on the sandwiches.”
“I can’t argue with a pregnant woman,” Brock groused.
Five minutes later, he noticed a familiar vehicle pulling into the parking lot. “Joe’s here.” He crossed to the window to peer out, then opened the door.
“Hey, the repairs are looking good,” Joe said, nodding at the second-floor room as he slid out from behind the wheel. He reached in and grabbed a computer-carrying case along with a large bag of food.
“Any idea when they’ll be finished?” Steele asked, opening the door wider.
“Windows are going in next week. I should know since I paid for them.” Joe handed him the bag.
“Why on earth would you pay for windows?” Harper asked.
“Ah, well, it was partially my fault the room was damaged.” Joe set the computer case on the floor. “Rhy is splitting the cost.”
“Your fault?” Harper glanced between the three men. “You were on a case?”
“Yes. But like I said, you don’t need to worry.” Steele quickly unpacked the sandwiches, desperate to change the subject. “You pick first, Harper.”
She scanned the sub labels, then chose a grilled chicken sub. “Thanks.”
There was more than enough to go around. He noticed Harper bowed her head for a long moment.
“I’d like to say grace,” Joe said.
Harper glanced up in surprise, then nodded.
He and Brock bowed their heads as their boss prayed. “Dear Lord Jesus, we thank You for this food we are about to eat. We ask that You continue to keep Harper and her baby safe in Your care. Amen.”
“Amen.” He spoke without hesitation.
“Amen.” Harper cleared her throat. “I’d like to add a prayer for your safety too.” She glanced at him, then at Brock, and finally Joe. “For all of you putting your lives on the line for me.”
“Amen.” Brock arched a brow. “Although that is the job we signed up for. You know, the slogan on our squad is to protect and serve.”
Steele knew his buddy was trying to make a point. And by the knowing look in Joe’s eye, he suspected his boss agreed.
He took a bite of his roast beef sandwich. “How was the meeting between the ATF guys and Rhy? Did we learn anything useful?”
“Not really.” Joe grimaced. “Sounds like they did get one crate of guns after the warehouse shooting but had expected more.”
One crate of guns was better than none, but he silently agreed that there should have been more. “I wonder if they had already cleared out some of the weapons before we arrived on scene.”
“That’s the general consensus,” Joe admitted. “Rhy isn’t happy, and the ATF guys aren’t either.”
“They must have some leads they’re following up on,” Steele pressed. “I have a feeling they’re holding back.”
“All I know is that they’re still searching for Tommy Grotto, Ellis Starkey, and Waylon Brooks,” Joe said. “They seem to think arresting those three guys will bring down the entire operation.”
“What about the three dead guys?” Brock asked. “Did we get their names?”
Joe glanced at Harper. Steele noticed, and added, “It may help to see if Harper recognizes their names. I only put mug shots together of the three top suspects. I didn’t have IDs on those guys to add them to the list.”
“Okay, yes. We have names,” Joe said. “Arlo Carbine, Kenny Dillon and Perro Segura.”
Steele watched Harper’s face closely, but there was no sign of recognition in her expression.
“I’m sorry. Those names don’t sound familiar.” She set her half-eaten sub down. “I wish I could be more help.”
