Chapter 4 Ozzy #2
Dean’s eyes lock on mine. “You’re taking her to a safehouse.”
Salem’s head turns toward me. “What?”
Dean keeps it simple. “We don’t put you in a place we can’t control. The safehouse is stocked. Secure. Quiet. And you’ll have someone with you.”
Salem’s eyes narrow. “So… I’m being guarded.”
My stomach twists. I hate how familiar that word feels in her mouth.
I lean in slightly, voice low. “Not guarded,” I say. “Protected.”
“That sounds like the same thing with better branding.”
Okay. She’s funny. And stubborn. And… Christ, those eyes. Storm-grey. Like weather rolling in. Like the sky right before lightning. I force myself to focus on the mission, not the way my body reacts to her being within breathing distance.
Dean gestures toward a folder on the table. “Safehouse Rainmaker. High hills, a few towns over. Low traffic. No neighbors close enough to notice anything. You can move around town if you keep it lowkey. No social posts. No new contacts. No attention.”
Salem’s jaw tightens. “I’m not a prisoner.”
“No,” Dean agrees immediately. “You’re a priority.”
Salem’s gaze flicks to me again. “And Ozzy goes with me.”
My mouth opens.
Before I can speak, Arrow says dryly, “Ozzy’s a pain in the ass, but he’s loyal. He’ll keep you alive.”
Juno adds, “And he’ll make sure you eat.”
“Hey,” I protest. “I am not a walking meal plan.”
River snorts. “You literally carry protein bars like currency.”
“That’s called preparedness.”
Lark squints at me. “You also carry gum like a flirtation strategy.”
“That’s called charm.”
Knight mutters, “It’s called annoying.”
Salem watches the exchange like she’s trying to decide if we’re real people or an elaborate hallucination. Then she says, very softly, “Do you all… always talk like this?”
Gage answers, deadpan. “Unfortunately.”
Salem’s shoulders loosen just a little.
Dean’s attention returns to Salem. “You’ll stay at Rainmaker until we have answers. Days, maybe weeks. And Ozzy will coordinate with Rae and the team daily.”
Salem’s gaze sharpens. “What if they come for me?”
Sawyer’s voice is low and steady. “Then they’ll regret it.”
Salem holds his gaze for a beat, then nods once like she believes him.
Juno steps forward with a duffel bag—new, black, clean. “Here,” she says, holding it out. “Clothes, toiletries, basics. Nothing fancy. Just… you stuff.”
Salem stares at the bag like it might explode. Then her fingers close around the strap, careful. “Thank you,” she says quietly.
Juno’s eyes warm. “You’re welcome.”
Salem clears her throat. “I don’t… do well with people telling me what to do.”
My mouth quirks before I can stop it. “I gathered.”
Her eyes cut to me. “Don’t get smug.”
“I’m not smug,” I say. “I’m delighted.”
“Delighted,” she repeats like it tastes suspicious.
“I’m happy you’re alive,” I say, softer, before my brain can slap duct tape over my mouth.
Salem looks at me. And something shifts in her expression—so quick I almost miss it. Like she’s not used to hearing that without strings attached.
Rae’s voice cuts in. “Dean. I’m getting a partial ledger. It’s encrypted, but—” Her fingers fly. “—it references Rainmaker’s county. Not the safehouse. The county.”
Dean’s eyes sharpen. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Rae says carefully, “whoever moved Salem through the pipeline is operating in that region too. There’s overlap.”
The room tightens instantly. Sawyer’s jaw flexes. Arrow’s hand drops to his belt reflexively. My pulse spikes.
Dean looks at me. “Ozzy. That doesn’t change the plan. It makes it more urgent.”
I nod, voice steady. “We go now.”
Salem’s fingers tighten on the duffel. Her eyes dart between faces. Fear tries to rise in her throat. I can see it. But she swallows it down like she’s done a thousand times. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Rainmaker.”
Dean nods. “Arrow will get you a vehicle. Supplies are already there.”
Salem hesitates. Then, to my surprise, she steps closer to me—just a fraction. Not touching. But near enough that I feel her warmth. “Are you… good at this?” she asks, voice low.
I know what she means.
Not hacking.
Not fighting.
This.
Being the person someone depends on. I want to tell her I’m not built for gentle. That I’m all sharp edges and jokes and violence aimed at people who deserve it. That I’m terrified of screwing this up. Instead, I give her the truth I can hold steady. “I’m good at keeping promises,” I say.
Salem’s gaze searches mine for a long second. Then she nods once. “Okay,” she whispers. “Then don’t let me disappear again.”
My chest goes tight. I force my mouth into something that resembles confidence. “Not a chance,” I say. “If anyone tries, I’ll make them hurt.”
Her lips part slightly. Her eyes drop to my mouth. And I have to look away before I do something stupid like kiss her in front of Dean Maddox and an entire room of lethal people.
Sawyer tosses me a set of keys. “Take SUV number 4, it’s in the garage,” he says.
I catch them. “Thanks.”
He pauses, then adds quietly, “Don’t screw it up.”
“I never do,” I say automatically.
Sawyer’s eyebrow lifts.
I amend, “Not often.”
Salem watches Arrow and Juno share a quick look—soft, intimate, full of trust—then looks back at me. “Okay,” she says again, like she’s convincing herself. “Let’s go.”
We walk out with the duffel and a burner phone. Normally I’d be playing video games, maybe helping Maddox Security out here and there, but not this Tuesday.
No, instead, I’m smack dab in the middle of an op. An op that could cost Salem her life. I won’t let that happen. Not on my watch.
Not ever.