Chapter 29 #2
“Why? Because you're a wizard? Because Navy SEALs have crystal balls hidden in their gear bags? Only Marine Raiders have crystal balls.”
I barked out a laugh. “Asshole. SEALs eat Raiders for breakfast.”
I stopped at a red light, and Roan turned to face me fully. “You know what I see when I look at what happened last night?”
“What?”
“A stalker who's running out of options. Think about it. He tried flowers, notes, vandalism, phone calls. None of it worked. So, he played his biggest card, brought in the cavalry. And what happened?”
I considered his words. “We adapted. Moved locations.”
“Exactly. He threw everything he had at you, and you're still standing. Joy's still safe. He's the one who's desperate now.”
The light turned green. I accelerated through the intersection. His words hung in the air between us.
“You know as well as I do, he’s not done escalating,” I said.
“Of course not. But I think he's running out of moves that don't expose him. The SWATting was smart, but he can't pull that trick twice.”
We pulled into the parking lot of Thatcher’s Automotive.
“Graham.” Roan killed the engine and turned to face me. “You've got good instincts. Trust them. But don't let fear make you second-guess every decision.”
“What if my instincts are wrong? What if I miss something and he gets to her? What if it turns out to be Africa all over again?”
“Goddammit, Graham. You need to put that mission into perspective. How many of us in leadership positions have gotten bad intel? I’m thinking every single one of us.
The thing you need to focus on is you got Kent out of there alive.
Simon shared the reports with me, there was no way that should have happened. You both should have died.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean, you’ve read the reports?” I demanded to know.
“You know him. He’s snoopy. Can’t keep his nose out of anything.
Hell, if you put your mind to it, and pressed some of your contacts, chances are you could find out a shit ton of things about Simon, or me for that matter.
But who gives a fuck? What matters is you need to finally pull your head out of your ass about the men who died on that mission and focus on what you accomplished.
It’s that same grit that you’re going to use to keep Joy alive.
I believe in you.” He reached over and gripped my shoulder.
“But you can't protect her if you're paralyzed by what-ifs.”
The words hit like a physical blow. I sat in the driver’s seat of my repaired truck and felt something shift inside my chest.
“She's stronger than you think,” Roan continued. “And she's not alone in this fight. You've got damn near everyone in Jasper Creek backing you up. This bastard picked the wrong target.”
I nodded, feeling years of crushing weight lift off my shoulders. It was like I could finally see things clearly.
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime. Now turn around and get back to your woman. After last night, she needs to see you.”
He hopped out of my truck, and I texted Joy to tell her about the move to Evie’s house, then started the drive back to the shitty motel.
My truck felt different. It ran smooth as silk, the new paint job gleaming in the morning sun. But more than that, the day seemed clearer; it was as if the air almost sparkled like a diamond. I could breathe.
This wasn't over. The bastard would escalate again. But we were ready for him now. I was ready for him now.
I pulled into the motel parking lot and headed inside.
I skipped the elevator and jogged up the three flights of stairs.
When I got up to our floor, I spotted Randy standing outside our room door, phone pressed to his ear.
When he saw me, he stood up straighter and pushed his phone into his back pocket.
“She's packed and ready to go.”
“How's she doing?”
“Good. Better than I expected after last night. She's got that determined look going on. Be scared, man. She’s made her mind up about something.”
I pushed in the room key and opened the door. Whatever Joy had decided during my absence, I had a feeling our quiet morning was about to get very interesting.
Joy was sitting in the uncomfortable chair with her pink suitcase, folded sheets and pillow, backpack, and my rucksack by her feet. She had an expression that mixed relief with steel-hard determination.
“Ready to go?”
“More than ready. I need to be somewhere that doesn't smell like Lysol and pesticide.”
I slung her backpack over my shoulder, then picked up my rucksack and her suitcase. I glanced around the room, looking to see if she missed anything.
“Don’t bother. I already swept the room three times. We’re not leaving anything behind,” she assured me.
I opened the room door, and Randy was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged and walked toward the elevator.
“The stairs would be faster, wouldn’t they?” Joy asked.
I looked at her to see if she would be able to see over the pillows she would be carrying. She could. I sent her a relieved grin and changed course. We were soon at my truck.
“How are you feeling? Really?”
Joy stopped beside the passenger door and looked up at me with those blue eyes that had seen too much in the past few days.
“Like I'm done being a victim.”
The words sent both ice and fire through my veins. Before I could respond, she was climbing into the truck. I went around and got into the driver’s side and started up my truck. Joy touched my arm before I put my truck into reverse.
“Yeah, baby?” I asked.
“Last night proved something to me.”
“What's that?”
“He can bring the whole world down on us, and we'll still be standing. We're stronger than he is.”
She was right. We were still here. Still fighting. Still together.
And that had to scare the hell out of our stalker.