Chapter Seven #2
Cassidy let out a sharp huff, then stepped back. Kincade did the same, and together they gave Sheriff Moran and Mayor Harlan just enough room to cross the threshold.
Moran gave a tight nod as he passed. Vance didn’t wait for a verbal invitation. He strolled in like he owned the place, eyes sweeping over the room before landing on Kincade.
“Well,” Vance said with a pointed smile, “looks like you spent the night. What’s the matter, Maddox? You figure your missing partner might come knocking?”
Kincade didn’t rise to it. But Cassidy did.
“No,” she said coolly, her mouth curving with just enough bite. “Kincade spent the night because we sleep together. Regularly.”
Kincade arched a brow but said nothing.
Moran sighed. Not in a surprised kind of way but as if he didn’t want to be dealing with any of this. His gaze dropped to their guns still hanging loosely at their sides. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“Put those away,” Moran snarled, his voice tight. “You’re not under siege.”
Cassidy didn’t move. Neither did Kincade.
Moran muttered something under his breath and moved past them, starting down the hallway toward the back of the house. Vance followed, less focused on searching and more interested in peering into every corner as if he was hoping for drama.
Kincade and Cassidy remained in the living room, shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed on the two men as they moved deeper inside. The sound of footsteps faded as Moran and Vance disappeared down the hall, opening doors, moving through Cassidy’s house like they had every right.
Kincade’s jaw tensed, but he kept his eyes on the hallway.
Beside him, Cassidy shifted. Her voice came low, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t see how I can keep working for him after this.”
Kincade agreed. Even if Moran wasn’t part of the murders or the cover-up, he’d made it clear he was more than willing to carry water for the mayor. That made him dangerous or at the very least compromised.
“Moran didn’t even flinch when Vance accused us of hiding Travis,” she added. “He just let it happen.”
Kincade glanced at her, his voice equally quiet. “You’ve got options.”
She gave him a questioning look.
“Maverick Ops is always hiring. Or the county could use a deputy with a spine.” He paused, letting the edge in his voice soften. “Or you could just become my full-time lover. Take the stress out of it.”
Cassidy looked at him, a breath catching in her throat. Then she smiled. But it didn’t reach her eyes.
Because the truth was still hanging between them.
Her brother was still missing.
And they were still standing in the middle of a storm that hadn’t fully broken yet.
Cassidy’s smile faltered completely, her gaze shifting toward the hallway again. Then her eyes widened slightly.
She turned toward him, her voice barely louder than a breath. “Your backpack. Is there anything in it they shouldn’t find?”
Kincade’s heart gave a single hard beat before he shook his head. “Nothing illegal.”
She gave him a look, not buying the full answer.
He leaned closer, keeping his tone low. “There’s a fake passport in one of the inner compartments. Just in case. But the pack’s got a built-in lock, and the material can’t be cut with a regular knife.”
Cassidy’s expression tightened. “If they try to seize it?”
“I’ll tell them they need a warrant. And I’ll call Ruby while I’m at it.”
She nodded, still on edge, but some of the panic in her eyes eased.
They both knew the backpack was standard for Maverick Ops operatives. It had supplies, tools, and backup IDs. Things that no civilian was supposed to carry. But none of it was something he couldn’t explain. At least not without legal pushback.
He glanced down the hallway again. Moran and Vance were still out of sight. And every second they lingered made this feel less like a search and more like an intimidation play.
Kincade heard the creak of Cassidy’s bedroom door swinging shut, then the quiet shuffle of boots across hardwood. Sheriff Moran and Vance finally reappeared, both men empty-handed. Moran’s face was tight with something unreadable, but Vance looked outright irritated.
Not a surprise. Vance had wanted to find Travis hiding here.
The mayor glanced around one last time, his jaw ticking when he spotted Cassidy and Kincade still standing side by side. His eyes narrowed.
“Two beds unmade,” Vance said, lips curling. “Guess the whole lovers story was just a cover after all.”
Kincade didn’t blink. “We’re adventurous like that. Guess you’re not if you didn’t think of that right off.”
Vance’s expression snapped tight. His nostrils flared, color rushing into his face. For a heartbeat, it looked as if he might actually say something worth hearing instead of his usual bullshit.
Instead, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the front door.
“I’m watching you,” he tossed over his shoulder. “You break the law, you so much as breathe the wrong way, I’ll make damn sure you both get hauled in.”
He yanked the door open and disappeared outside. Moran lingered a second longer, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else. His shoulders sagged just slightly as he faced them.
“He means it,” he said quietly. “If you know where Travis is… you need to tell me. Now.”
Neither Cassidy nor Kincade said a word.
Moran sighed. Then, like the lap dog he appeared to be, he followed the mayor out the door and closed it behind him.
The silence that filled the house in their wake was thick and heavy. But for the first time in what felt like hours, they were alone again. And it was time to move.
As soon as the front door shut behind Moran and Vance, Kincade went to the guest room and grabbed his backpack.
“Let’s move,” he said when he rejoined Cassidy.
She took out her keys, and they stepped out into the crisp morning air. The sky was still pale with early light, a slow dawn stretching across Blanco Pass.
“I’ll make sure no one put a tracking device on the truck,” he explained.
Kincade dropped the pack in the bed, unlocked a side pocket, and pulled out a compact scanning device—small, matte black, and quiet. One of Ruby’s latest toys.
Cassidy leaned on the hood while he crouched low and swept the device under the chassis, along the wheel wells, behind the bumper.
Nothing.
Still, Kincade gave it one more pass just to be sure.
When he stood, he gave a nod. “We’re clean.”
They climbed in, and Cassidy started the engine. He kept an eye on the side mirror as she backed down the gravel drive, scanning every shadow along the tree line.
“I don’t see anyone,” she said, her eyes flicking between the mirror and the rearview.
“Neither do I,” Kincade replied. “But swing through town before we head out. Double back once or twice. Let’s make sure.”
She nodded and took a turn that would loop them around Blanco Pass before heading out toward the outskirts. Kincade kept watch, every parked car and slow-moving sedan a potential tail.
Still nothing.
But paranoia had kept him alive this long.
They passed the faded city limits sign and turned onto a cracked old farm road. A few minutes later, a rusted marquee came into view, barely readable under the morning haze.
Lone Star Drive-In – Established 1963.
The place looked like time had forgotten it. Kincade hoped that included their enemies.
They turned off the main road and followed a narrow gravel path flanked by rusting fences and weeds nearly waist high. At the end of the road sat the Lone Star Drive-In, its cracked parking lot spreading out in wide, jagged sections like a relic from another time.
The screen loomed in the distance, still standing but weather-worn and stained.
Most of the metal speaker posts were gone, pulled out or knocked down years ago.
The projection booth stood crooked on its foundation, one window shattered and boarded over with old plywood.
Grass and scrub had taken over the edges, turning the place into something half-wild.
Cassidy eased the truck to a stop near the back row, tires crunching over loose gravel. The engine idled in the stillness.
“Do you see Jericho?” she asked, scanning the empty lot.
Kincade squinted toward the edges of the property, eyes moving from the trees near the screen to the projection booth.
“No,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean he’s not here. Jericho likes to keep out of sight until he’s needed.”
Cassidy nodded, but her grip tightened on the steering wheel.
There was no sign of Travis either. No vehicle. No shadow moving in the distance. Just the heavy hush of morning and the soft hiss of wind across broken pavement.
Kincade glanced around again. “Travis is just as solid at being a ghost as Jericho is.”
Cassidy turned her head, studying him. “How good is he, really?”
The question was casual on the surface, but her eyes told him what she really meant. Is he good enough to survive this?
Kincade didn’t hesitate. “He’s damn good,” he said quietly. “Best partner I’ve ever had. Smart, methodical, and stubborn as hell when it counts.”
She gave a small nod, but her jaw was tight, and her fingers stayed clenched on the wheel.
Kincade reached out and rested a hand over hers. “He’s out there. And he’s not giving up without a fight.”
Neither were they.
Kincade’s gaze swept the drive-in again, scanning every shadow, every patch of overgrowth. Then he saw it.
A figure near the base of the massive, weather-stained screen.
Too far to see his face. Just a dark silhouette standing still in the morning haze. The figure raised one arm and gave a subtle wave, beckoning them forward. Then he turned and ducked behind the support structure at the back of the screen.
“There,” Kincade said, nodding toward the screen. “You see that?”
Cassidy was already leaning forward, squinting. “Yeah. You think that’s him?”
“Maybe.” She reached for the door handle, but Kincade’s hand shot out. “Hold on.”
Her phone buzzed a second later, sharp and urgent in the silence. Cassidy pulled it from her pocket, her brows pinching as she read the screen. “Text. Unknown number.”
Kincade leaned closer. The message was short. Meeting compromised. Do not approach. Too risky.
Cassidy looked at him, her voice tense. “This has to be from Travis.”
Kincade didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the message, his instincts firing hard in his gut.
“Could be him. Or someone who wants us to think it is,” Kincade added.
Cassidy didn’t have time to respond. Because at that exact moment, a bullet slammed into the truck.
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