Chapter 33
The emergency lights faded as the fire trucks pulled away from The Rusty Anchor's parking lot.
The burned-out husk of Levinger's truck sat smoking in the gravel.
Cara stood beside Gabe's rental SUV, watching him stare at his phone with an expression that mixed desperate relief with crushing fear.
The photo of David glowed in the darkness.
Across the parking lot, Levinger stood with his two goons near the smoking wreckage, gesturing angrily at the fire chief.
Gabe's eyes tracked to him. Cara watched the calculation happening.
"Don't," Wade said, reading Gabe's thoughts. "Bad play."
"He knows something," Gabe said, not looking away from Levinger.
"He's middle management, at best,” Wade countered. "The people holding your brother sent those texts. That's top of the food chain, not tavern muscle." "
We could make him talk."
"Could we?" Wade's tone carried skepticism. "No jurisdiction. No warrant. Fire department's still here. Chief Hale's probably on his way. You grab Levinger now, you're the one going to jail."
Gabe's jaw worked, but he didn't move.
"And the second Levinger doesn't check in," Wade continued, driving the point home, "whoever's holding David knows something went wrong. They panic. Your brother's dead before we get any intel worth having."
The logic cut through Gabe's desperate need for action. "He's not going anywhere," Cara added softly. "The Rusty Anchor's been here for years. Levinger's not running. We can find him later if we need to."
Gabe's hands clenched into fists, but he nodded once. Accepting the reasoning even though every instinct probably screamed to act.
"We need to move," Wade reminded them quietly.
“And then?” Cara couldn’t help asking.
"We go back to Haven Cove," Gabe said, pocketing his phone. "Get Tom's tech support. Bring the team together. We have to find out where they're holding David before they start making more demands we can’t meet."
Wade's eyes shifted to Cara. The temperature dropped again.
"That was some stupid stunt back there." Wade's voice was flat.
Controlled in the way that suggested significant emotion being held in check.
He shook his head, disappointment wafting off him.
"Walking into a bar full of armed criminals to run a con. "
Cara forced herself to meet his eyes. "I had to."
One dark eyebrow rose.
She straightened her spine. "I had maybe two minutes before—"
"Before you got yourself killed along with him." Wade's tone stayed level, but anger simmered underneath. "You hotwired a church van. Drove twenty miles into hostile territory. Walked into a situation you had no training for—"
"This isn’t the first time I’ve done this." The words came out before she could stop them.
Wade's eyes narrowed. "That so."
Cara realized her mistake. Admitting skills she shouldn't possess. Revealing more than she'd intended.
But Wade was still talking. "You could have been recognized from the warehouse. Could have been shot. Could have blown the whole operation." His jaw tightened. "And I would have been responsible because I was supposed to keep you safe."
Oh. This wasn't just about her disobeying orders. This was about Wade feeling like he'd failed.
"It wasn’t your fault," Cara said. "I made the choice to work you."
Wade's expression suggested he didn't love that.
"If the situation happened again," he said, watching her carefully, "would you do the same thing?"
She thought about Gabe alone in that tavern. About the men closing in. About the split-second decision that had saved both their lives. "Definitely."
Wade stared at her for a long moment. She refused to look away.
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite approval, but recognition. "At least you're honest."
"About this," she admitted.
He heard the qualifier. The acknowledgment of other lies still buried.
His mouth almost quirked. "Don't make me regret this."
"I'll try not to."
"You'll fail." But he pulled out his truck keys. "I'll follow you both back. Make sure you're not tailed."
The release of tension was almost physical.
Gabe looked between them. "We good?"
"We'll talk later," Wade said, the words carrying the weight of unfinished business. "Right now we move."
"I'll take the van back," Cara said, pulling the keys from her pocket.
Gabe nodded. "Wade and I will follow. Make sure you're not tailed."
"Three vehicles is better anyway," Wade said.
Cara climbed into the church van, suddenly aware of how badly she reeked of beer.
The collision with the patron had soaked her hoodie thoroughly.
She cracked the windows despite the cold, letting air circulate.
The drive back felt longer than the frantic trip north.
Adrenaline faded, leaving exhaustion and the reality of what had just happened.