Chapter Fifteen
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Kincade sat at Cassidy’s kitchen table, watching her move around the stove. Fixing them dinner.
A chore she had insisted on doing solo.
Maybe because it calmed her nerves. Maybe because it gave her something else to focus on rather than the fact their lives were pretty much a shitstorm.
He took in the scent of grilled chicken and garlic bread mixed with the clean smell of soap and her skin. His stomach was grateful for real food, but his focus kept slipping to her. The way her damp hair curled at the ends. The curve of her back beneath a fitted T-shirt.
The memory of her body pressed against his, of the way she had clung to him earlier, was far too fresh.
He wanted more than just sex. He wanted all of it. He’d wanted her. But this wasn’t the time to spill his feelings. Not with Travis still missing. Not with danger still circling them like vultures.
Cassidy set a plate in front of him and slid into the chair across the table. Her brow was tight with worry. And for a damn good reason. Travis had vanished again, and the not knowing where he was ate away at both of them.
Kincade took a bite of the chicken and let out a quiet, appreciative grunt. “This is really good,” he said. “I forgot what a hot meal tasted like.”
She didn’t smile, but she gave a faint nod, her fork still pushing food around her plate.
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “If I’d known you could cook like this, I would’ve gotten bashed on the head a lot sooner.”
That earned him a sideways glance.
“Seriously,” he went on, gesturing with his fork. “This chicken might’ve just replaced coffee on my list of reasons to keep living.”
A flicker of amusement tugged at her mouth, and he caught it. “There it is,” he said, pointing. “A smile. I knew it existed.”
She shook her head. “Barely.”
“I’ll take it,” he said, settling back in his chair. “Half a smile’s a hell of a win right now.”
She sighed and set her fork down. “Just so you know, my mood isn’t about you. Or us ending up in bed. I don’t regret that. Not even a little.”
Kincade looked up, his brow raised, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
His smile deepened. “How long are we talking here?”
Cassidy gave him a look, then picked up her drink. “Well before the first time we landed in bed.”
Kincade let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Now that’s information I would’ve liked to have had back then.”
“Wouldn’t have changed a thing,” she said, but her eyes were warmer now, just a little less guarded.
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I damn sure would’ve enjoyed knowing it.”
Kincade wanted to hold onto this moment. Hold onto her. And he probably would have leaned in and kissed her had he not gotten a text. Bad timing, that was for sure, but it could also be important so he pulled out his phone and checked the screen.
“It’s from Ruby,” he relayed to her.
Greer had the gun that killed Harlan. Ballistics match. That might be enough to clear Travis. Still digging into who hired Greer and Knox.
Kincade let out a slow breath, heart thudding but feeling a whole lot of relief.
“What is it?” Cassidy asked.
He looked up at her. “Ruby confirmed that Greer had the murder weapon. The one that killed Daniel Harlan. That could be what we need to get the APB pulled off Travis.”
Kincade watched as Cassidy’s shoulders dropped, the tension leaving her body like a cord that had finally snapped. He could see the shift in her, the way exhaustion edged in once the pressure lifted. She probably hadn’t even realized how tightly she’d been holding it all together until now.
“That’s something, at least,” she said quietly. “God, if it clears his name… maybe he can finally stop running.”
She blinked hard and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I just want him to be safe, Kincade. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Yeah.” Kincade was right there with her. He needed his partner, his friend, to be cleared and safe.
But there were several big-ass questions in that info Ruby had just given them. Questions that Kincade voiced. “Who hired those guys? Who unleashed Greer and Knox on Daniel Harlan and us? And what exactly were they hired to do?”
Cassidy added a question of her own. “Why kill Harlan now, after all these years, and pin it on Travis?”
Kincade shook his head in disgust. That was the part that didn’t sit right. Greer and Knox didn’t strike him as men who acted on their own. Someone wanted Daniel Harlan silenced. Someone with enough reach to hire dirty muscle and set Travis up as the fall guy.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the clink of forks and the occasional creak of a chair the only sounds in the room. Kincade kept stealing glances at Cassidy, watching the way her fingers tightened around the handle of her fork every time her thoughts wandered.
Her phone buzzed on the table. She snatched it up, read the message, and her body went still.
“It’s from Travis.” Her voice was low. “He wants us to meet him at Alisha’s grave. He says he finally has what he needs to prove who killed her.”
Kincade set his fork down and wiped his hands on a napkin. “That sounds like a trap.”
“Agreed.” She was already dialing, but after a few rings, she cursed softly and pulled the phone from her ear. “He’s not answering.”
Another buzz from an incoming text.
Her eyes narrowed as she read it aloud, “There’s a problem. Someone’s shooting at me. Hurry.” She looked at him, and her fear was plain now. “That doesn’t sound like Travis. Not really.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Kincade said. He stood, already running through scenarios in his head. “But if there’s even a chance he’s in trouble…”
“We’re going,” she insisted, getting to her feet.
“Yeah. We’re going. But we vest up and bring backup. Because if this is a trap, someone’s about to regret setting it.”
Kincade pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Jericho. Meet us at Alisha’s grave. Possible trap. Watch your six.
Jericho responded almost immediately. On my way.
Cassidy had already disappeared into the bedroom, and when she returned, she was in her vest, pulling her ponytail tight. She handed him a vest, and he slipped it on without a word. They didn’t need to speak. Not now. Not when their focus had snapped into the same deadly direction.
They moved quickly, locking up the house and resetting the security before heading for the SUV. The sun had dipped lower, casting a dusky orange haze over the street as Kincade started the engine and turned onto the road.
He tapped into the police scanner app on his phone and checked for any reports of gunfire in the area near the cemetery. “Nothing,” he said, eyes on the screen.
“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Cassidy replied. “That cemetery’s surrounded by nothing but fields and trees.”
Kincade nodded. He already knew that. The place was isolated. No one would hear a gunshot out there unless they were close. And if someone wanted to lure them in with no interference, it was the perfect spot.
The silence in the SUV grew heavier the closer they got. He could feel Cassidy’s tension, see it in the way she stared out the windshield, fingers twitching slightly in her lap.
He reached over and gave her knee a brief squeeze. “We’ll play it smart.”
She nodded but didn’t look at him.
His jaw tightened as he returned his hand to the wheel.
She was doing what she had to do to protect her brother.
And he would do the same. But if this went sideways, if this was a setup, if someone had lured them out there to finish what they started with Daniel Harlan…
it was going to cost them. One way or another.
And he wasn’t sure who would pay the highest price.
Kincade drove through town, the streets mostly quiet as evening settled in.
The storefronts were closed or dimly lit, windows reflecting the orange and purple hues bleeding across the sky.
A couple of teenagers sat on the curb outside the diner, phones in hand, oblivious to the world unraveling just outside their vision.
The cemetery sat on the outskirts, tucked between a field of mesquite and a ridge of scrub-covered hills. Iron gates stood at the entrance, one rusted hinge groaning faintly in the breeze. Rows of headstones stretched out across the slope, bathed in the last light of day.
He slowed as he approached, eyes scanning the shadows between the markers, the gravel drive, the trees beyond.
No sign of Travis.
He drove past the main entrance, circling down the road until he could make a slow U-turn. His gut twisted. This was too quiet. Too clean.
It didn’t feel right.
By the time he looped back toward the entrance, a white van appeared in the side mirror. Jericho. The vehicle eased off the road, tires crunching the dry grass as it pulled into a patch of brush just up from the cemetery.
Jericho stepped out and didn’t waste time. He moved low and fast, vanishing into the trees that flanked the cemetery’s edge.
Kincade drove forward, pulling just inside the gravel drive and killing the headlights. He stared through the windshield, his fingers tightening on the wheel.
The silence was heavy, smothering.
Then a single gunshot shattered it.
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