Chapter Four #2
Silas rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, his movements jerky. “I thought Jonah was being paranoid, talking about people coming for him. He said too many old grudges were still alive. I told him he was imagining things.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “But now? I’m not so sure.”
The air around them felt heavier. If Jonah truly believed Strike Force and Crossfire Ops had turned against him, then someone had been feeding that fire. And Silas, with his darting eyes and nervous tone, knew more than he was saying.
Silas’s eyes lingered on them, his jaw working as if he were trying to decide how much to say. “If you find my brother, you need to let me know. I only have Jonah’s best interest at heart.”
Beck’s voice cut in, low and sharp. “You’re sure it’s not his money you have at heart?”
That earned him a hard glare from Silas. “I love my brother,” he snapped. His hands twitched at his sides before he turned and stalked back to his sedan. A moment later the engine roared and the car peeled away, leaving a trail of dust in the air.
Grace watched it vanish down the road, unease gnawing at her. “If Jonah truly distrusts Denny, then why call him and ask for those supplies?”
Beck’s eyes narrowed as he looked toward the van. “Could have been a trap to lure Denny in. Or Denny could be lying and Jonah never asked for anything at all.”
Grace’s stomach twisted. Both possibilities were bad, and both pointed to a mess tangled deeper than she wanted to admit.
She climbed into the passenger seat while Beck slid behind the wheel. Cal and Garrett took the back, their presence filling the van with a quiet readiness that steadied her nerves.
The van was outfitted like a rolling fortress.
A rack of rifles lined one wall, secured in brackets.
Medical kits, extra ammo, and tactical packs were strapped down in neat rows.
A bank of monitors was mounted above the driver’s compartment, each one linked to the cameras that ringed the vehicle.
Reminders that Crossfire Ops treated every mission as if it could turn into a war.
Beck started the engine, the low growl vibrating under her boots. They rolled out of the headquarters lot, gravel crunching beneath the tires before the road opened to the rugged hills.
Grace kept her gaze sharp on the side mirrors, watching for anyone or anything. Beck did the same, checking the rearview and glancing at the monitors above. Garrett leaned forward once to take a look as well, his eyes narrowing, then sat back again without a word.
No one was behind them. Not Silas. Not Elena. Not anyone. For the moment, they were alone.
The cabin lay ahead, hidden somewhere in the folds of the Hill Country. Grace pressed her palms against her thighs and steadied her breathing. They were closing in on Jonah, and she had no idea if she would find answers waiting for her there or more blood.
The road stretched empty ahead of them, the hills rolling in quiet rhythm, when Beck’s phone buzzed against the console. He glanced at the screen, then tapped it and set it on speaker.
“Noah,” he said.
“Update,” came Noah’s clipped voice. “Sheriff Chase has located Elena. Spoke to her on the phone a short while ago. Elena’s agreed to come in for an interview at three this afternoon, and she’s bringing a lawyer.”
Relief flickered through Grace at the news. At least Elena was coming in. That meant there was a chance she would finally give them some answers about what the hell was really going on.
“The sheriff also said Elena is making waves about you, Grace,” Noah went on a moment later. “She’s pushing hard to bring you in for kidnapping Jonah.”
Grace’s chest tightened, fury and disbelief tangling together. She opened her mouth, but Noah’s voice cut back in, firm. “I assured the sheriff that you’re innocent. We know you are. But Elena’s trying to muddy the water. She wants to drag you into this and shift suspicion away from herself.”
The van went quiet except for the steady rumble of the engine. Grace’s heart thudded hard, the knot of tension in her chest drawing tighter.
“What’s your ETA to the cabin?” Noah asked.
“Four minutes,” Beck replied.
“Good. Keep me posted.” The line clicked off.
One of the screens above the console flickered and shifted, pulling up satellite images of the cabin.
Grace leaned forward, studying the display.
The structure was barely more than a speck of weathered wood nestled in the middle of thick trees.
The canopy crowded in close, branches interlacing until the cabin almost vanished into the shadows.
A narrow dirt track wound toward it, but the trees pressed so tight around the lane that even sunlight had a hard time breaking through.
Grace’s pulse quickened. It looked secluded, forgotten, the perfect place to hide or to spring an ambush.
Beck slowed the van as they neared the spot, then pulled over onto the shoulder. The engine rumbled to a stop, and the sudden quiet made Grace’s skin prickle.
“It’s best if we approach on foot,” Beck said, turning to her. His eyes lingered, steady and serious. “You can stay put in the van if you want.”
Grace pushed open the door and stepped down before he could say more. Pain flared sharp in her side, but she swallowed it down. “I’m going.”
Beck didn’t argue with her. He turned his attention to Cal and Garrett. “Take the east. Grace and I will circle west. We’ll converge on the cabin from both sides.”
Cal tipped the brim of his cap and moved off with Garrett, their footsteps silent as they melted into the brush.
Grace followed Beck into the trees on the opposite side.
The ground was uneven, littered with fallen limbs and patches of underbrush that grabbed at her boots.
Every step jarred her ribs, but she kept pace, pushing through the ache.
The air smelled of cedar and damp earth, and the canopy above pressed heavily, muting the light.
They moved carefully, weaving through the thicket until the cabin came into sight. Weathered wood, one small window, and a sagging porch. It sat quiet in the clearing, shadows pooled at its base.
Beck motioned her down behind the trees. He pulled binoculars from his vest and lifted them. Grace steadied her breath, watching his expression.
“They’re infrared,” he murmured. His frown deepened as he adjusted the focus. “No heat source inside.”
The words had barely left his mouth when a gunshot cracked through the stillness.