Chapter 7
“And then,” Cruz leans over grasping the table in front of her to keep herself upright despite her obnoxious laughter, “Harris tied her to a pole.”
Four burly men cackle and heat crawls up my neck. I never should have told her how I tied up Amelia last night to get rid of her. It’s my own fault for supplying Cruz with that kind of valuable intel.
So much for coming into this job with a blank slate. I’m racking up the mistakes at record speed.
“I can’t wait to meet this woman,” Phillips says, kicking his feet up on the breakroom table. “Maybe she’ll show up at my stakeout next.”
A tiny sliver of jealousy erupts in my chest like shrapnel. But I bite my tongue. I don’t care what Amelia does.
“Did you at least go back and check, make sure she’s not still there?” Daniels, the most reliable of the group, asks.
“Didn’t have time,” I mutter, pouring a heavy shot of creamer into my coffee. At this point, it might all be creamer. I came in for a cup and ended up getting dragged through the mud by my partner.
“Was this before or after you lost your mark?”
I jump at the voice of my supervisor, Gavin Ford, and brown cream splashes onto my shirt. At least it’s barely hot anymore.
I stand at attention. Ready to accept my second tongue-lashing of the morning. The first had been from Director Roth.
How does one lose a suspect like that? Did he have someone with him?
I wish I’d had an answer to his questions. I’m afraid we chased after a ghost last night. I’d never admit it, but I’m worried Cruz might have seen someone other than Liam leaving. And as of this morning, he hasn’t returned to his hotel.
But I’ll find him.
“Harris.” Ford approaches me. “Why is it you keep running into the same woman?”
“I’ve got a theory—” Cruz begins but she’s cut off by a raise of his fist. She falls silent, dropping back a step.
“What are distractions?” he barks at me.
“A liability, sir.”
His eyes narrow. “A death sentence. Find Hawthorne. Watch him. I want the evidence to put him behind bars before he hurts anyone else.”
I stand straighter and nearly salute him before remembering I’m not in the military anymore. He spins on his heel and leaves. I wait ten seconds before following him out.
“Maybe there’s an avenue we haven’t considered yet.” Cruz catches up to me in the hall.
“Like what?” I bark at her, then instantly regret it.
But it doesn’t faze her. She’s been with the division for a year, she’s used to grumpy men.
“Maybe our suspect is trailing her.”
I stop walking. The blood in my veins slows to a crawl. That is an avenue I haven’t considered. And I don’t want to.
“It’s just a coincidence.” I force out the words.
“It could be. Or,” she tightens her pitch-black ponytail, ”your girlfriend could be in danger.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Cruz shrugs a shoulder. “I’m just saying. What if we follow her? Maybe Liam will show up?”
“It was a coincidence,” I mutter again, and keep walking.
“Twice could be a coincidence,” she concedes. “But if it happens again…” Her voice trails off. I know. If it happens again, it’s definitely not a coincidence and Amelia is in danger. Or she’s as much trouble as Hawthorne is.