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"I prefer the term little rabbit duty, honestly." He shot her a look, knowing she'd rise to the bait.
She started to say something. He knew she was going to tear into him. He wanted that, so bad. He would have an excuse to pull her outside to the garden. He could walk her around under the stars. Kiss the hell out of her out there. Maybe lead her to his suite right next to hers.
His phone rang. An unlisted number. Jarrod grabbed his phone, and answered.
"They are watching you, boy.” A long silence, then. “And that pretty redhead of yours.”
He waved a hand toward Gunnar. Gunnar and Haldyn paused, stepped closer. Jarrod held a finger to his lips for a moment before putting the phone on speaker. “Who is watching me and Haldyn? Who is this? Can you tell me your name?”
“A…friend. We’ll just say I am a friend. Or, hell, maybe I am just…someone with a lot on my mind. Sins. That kind of thing. Sins of fathers, eventually, they weigh you down, boy. Give you regrets. Bastards waited until you and your little friends were tied up at that barbecue today. To make their plans and everything. Planned tonight right under your damned nose while you were wrapped around that redhead.”
"Were you there today?" Jarrod almost swore he recognized the voice. But it was…generic. Gruff. Older than he was—he’d lay odds on that. No defining accent. Just an anonymous voice on the phone.
"Maybe. You do the right thing, boy. Stop all those kids from dying. That shit, that damned OPJ—it's killing kids. Innocent fucking kids. And I can't stomach it any more. Ain’t no fucking sense in that.”
"What do you know about the OPJ?" Jarrod asked. His fingers wrapped around Haldyn's narrow shoulder. He shifted her, so she could move her own phone—obviously recording—closer to his. She was a sneaky, smart one, his little rabbit.
"I know they have no conscience. Not any damned one of them, boy. I know they are finding a way to move more and more of it around. I think they are still manufacturing it around here somewhere. Don’t know where, though. Never bothered to fill me in on that part. I know a bunch of that nasty shit is going to be passing by the forty-four mile marker on Boethe Highway between here and Wichita Falls in about three hours. Best get your toys out there, boy. Before you are too late. Do the right thing. Somebody’s got to. Not many else in Finley Creek who give a damn anymore. It makes a man tired, boy. Far more than you can ever know until it strikes your own house. Remember that."
The caller disconnected. Gunnar was already dialing on his own phone.
As Jarrod's phone rang again. He answered it quickly. Daniel this time. "Dan, I?—"
"I just got a call."
"I got one, too. Less than a minute ago. Mile marker forty-four on Boethe Highway?"
"I’ve called Jake and Dom already. In three hours. If it's credible..."
They both knew the truth—it could damned well be a trap. Again.
But they had no real choice but to act.
"Meet in the conference room in fifteen minutes. Leave Haldyn behind secure gates. I'm not bringing forensics in until daylight. Just in case. Not after the last ambush." When Murdoch, Dom, Charlie, and some of the forensics monsters had been ambushed before.
"We'll be there in fifteen. And, Dan, watch yourself out there. It wouldn’t be the first time those assholes have set us up as clay pigeons." Because he wasn't stupid. This was a damned fine way to lure them all out tonight.
40
Heather was quiet. Too quiet.
But they all were. This was her first bust with the Major Crimes unit.
He checked her gorgeous face for a moment. It had been close out there tonight. Far too close.
The paramedic on scene had released her, saying she was good to go. She'd need to get a few stitches in the arm, but thank God that beautiful woman was going home to her two little girls tonight. It had been damned close. For her and Gunnar.
No one out there had missed that. She'd taken the shot at the last possible moment—seconds after she'd realized what was happening. At the last possible moment.
"You good?"
She pulled in a deep breath, pulled her shoulders straighter and nodded. "As good as I can be, considering. I know...the procedure."
"It'll involve a week paid leave, at most," Daniel said behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder, shifted her a bit closer. Heather jumped about three feet at the contact. And turned. Defensively.
Daniel stepped back.
Apparently, Daniel hadn't gotten the memo—no touching Heather from behind. Ever. Or the side. Or at all, really. Girl got massively jumpy that way. Jarrod had learned that little fact in week one. He’d never asked why.
