Chapter Four
───── ? ────
Griff stood at the stove, stirring the scrambled eggs with a calm he didn’t feel.
The smell of coffee filled the kitchen, the scent strong enough to cut through the smoke that had clung to him from the night before.
A long shower hadn’t rid him of that particular scent, and he hoped Lily was having better luck with that than he was.
He’d already taken care of her laundry. It was clean, dry, and folded in a neat stack just outside the guestroom door. She hadn’t opened it yet, but he’d heard the water running in the bathroom.
She was awake. Probably taking some time to process everything. Or rather, trying to.
He braced his hand against the edge of the counter and stared at the skillet, watching the eggs firm up. The sounds of the house were normal, easy. Coffee brewing, eggs sizzling, wind brushing the windows. But underneath it, tension hummed low and constant.
The fire. The tires. The threat.
And that damn photoshopped image, her face twisted in agony, meant to scare her into quitting.
It had pissed him off more than he’d let on last night. Still did. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind this morning. The problem was the other thing.
The heat.
It had been there from the start, simmering under the surface. He’d seen it in her eyes. Heard it in her voice. Felt it last night when she stood in his hallway in nothing but his T-shirt, vulnerable but not broken, and still somehow managing to knock the wind out of him.
They didn’t want this. Didn’t need it. No time. Too much danger. Too much at stake.
Didn’t matter though.
It was still there, burning slow.
And when she came out of that room, he’d have to look her in the eye. Pretend like he wasn’t thinking about how she’d looked in his shirt. Pretend like he wasn’t already halfway in, even if he couldn’t afford to be.
Several minutes passed. He focused on the pan, the plates, the coffee, anything to keep his thoughts straight. But the second Lily walked into the kitchen, it all went to hell.
She wore her jeans and the same gray uniform top from last night, clean now, her damp hair pulled back in a loose knot. Nothing fancy. Nothing deliberate. And yet, it still hit him hard.
A solid punch of heat low in his gut.
Griff kept his expression neutral and turned to the counter, pouring her a cup of coffee. No sugar, no creamer. He’d seen her drink it black at the station, just like he did. He handed it to her without comment.
She took it with a soft “Thanks,” and sipped. “You need help?” she asked.
He nodded toward the bread near the toaster. “You can handle the toast.”
She gave a small huff that might’ve been the beginning of a laugh. “Toast is about the limit of my culinary skills. Yours are clearly better.” She moved to the counter, sliding two slices into the toaster. “Smells good.”
Griff went back to the stove, plating the scrambled eggs and bacon, and tried to focus on anything but the way her voice sounded in his kitchen. Or how natural it felt, like she belonged here. Like they’d done this before.
They hadn’t. But the thought stuck anyway.
Griff set the plates on the island counter and forced himself to shift gears. Focus. Food. Facts.
“Hallie called me about fifteen minutes ago,” he said, taking the seat across from her and picking up his fork. “She wanted me to pass along that you’re officially off today. Offered you the whole day to rest, get your head straight.”
Lily didn’t even hesitate. “I want to work.”
He finally looked at her then, and the steel in her eyes was exactly what he expected. “I told her that’d be your answer,” he said. “Hallie didn’t bother to argue. She said she’d see us when we got in.” Which would be in about a half hour since their shift was due to start at eight.
She gave a small nod and took another sip of coffee.
“Hallie also got an initial report from the fire chief,” he added. “Thought you’d want to hear it straight.”
Lily stilled, fork hovering just above her plate.
Griff set his own fork down and leaned forward slightly. “The fire was simple. Accelerant and a few matches. No timer, no device. Old-school. Quick and dirty.”
Lily let the information settle, her mouth pulling into a tight line. “So someone walked up to my house and lit it on fire.”
“Yeah.”
“No finesse. No effort to cover it up,” she added in a mutter.
“Nope,” Griff said. “They didn’t care about hiding it. They just wanted you to see it burn.”
Griff watched her carefully, noting the anger creeping back into her expression. Not panic. Not even fear. Just the cold, sharp focus that came with a good cop being pissed off.
Griff reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a few times. He turned the phone around and slid it across the counter to Lily.
“Hallie also got something back from the lab,” he said. “The tech cleaned up the security footage. This is what they got.”
Lily leaned in, her shoulders tensing slightly as she studied the image.
The photo was clearer than what they’d seen on the feed last night. Sharper edges, enhanced contrast. A figure in a dark hoodie and jeans crouched near her SUV. The mask they wore—tight black fabric, full face, no logo—looked like something you’d buy at a tactical supply store.
Not one inch of skin showed. No reflective patches. Nothing obvious to latch onto.
“No face,” she said after a moment.
“Nope,” Griff said. “And because of the way he or she stayed crouched when moving, it’s hard to tell size and height.”
Lily kept her eyes on the screen. “So, even with the image being cleaned up, it’s still vague.”
“Vague’s better than nothing,” he replied. “And this—” he tapped the image, “this tells me whoever this is knew where the cameras were and how to move. Fast. Quiet.”
She nodded, but her jaw was tight, and her fingers curled slightly on the edge of the counter. “They’re careful,” she said. “But they’re not invisible.”
“No,” Griff agreed. “They’re not.”
Now that he had a somewhat clearer image, a growing list of names, and a reason to push even harder. He was going to find this person. And when he did, they’d know what it felt like to be hunted.
They finished breakfast in silence, the kind that came not from discomfort but from mutual understanding. No need to fill the space with words. There was work to do.
Lily stood first, taking her plate and cup to the sink without being asked. Griff followed, rinsing his and loading both into the dishwasher. It was quick, efficient, like everything else they did together. They moved around each other easily, without stepping on each other’s toes.
Once the counter was clear and the coffee thermos was filled, they grabbed their coats from the hooks near the door. Griff pulled on his heavy canvas jacket that was lined for cold mornings like this. Lily zipped hers up to her chin, her expression unreadable now, locked in.
They stepped outside, boots crunching over gravel, the sun just breaking over the horizon. Pale light painted the frost-covered field in silver, casting long shadows toward the woods.
Griff’s eyes swept the perimeter as they moved toward his truck. So did Lily’s. He caught the flick of her gaze toward the trees, the measured glance across the field. Same instincts. Same unease.
Nothing moved.
That didn’t surprise him.
He had motion detectors strung across the perimeter, hidden and tight. If anyone had crossed the line between the trees and the house, he’d have known. Still, just because the sensors hadn’t gone off didn’t mean someone hadn’t been out there. Watching. Waiting.
He opened the truck door for her, his eyes still scanning the horizon. “Let’s see what today turns up,” he said.
Lily climbed in without a word.
Griff shut the door and circled around to the driver’s side, every muscle taut. Someone had made a move. Several of them. The threatening texts, the tires, the fire, and those blasted photos.
Now it was Lily and his turn to find this bastard and make them pay.
Griff took the long way into town. He didn’t drive past Lily’s place, or rather what was left of it. And he definitely didn’t go near her childhood home. She didn’t ask him to avoid either, but some things didn’t need to be said.
As usual, the morning traffic was light.
A few trucks passed them going the other way, their tires kicking up dust from the shoulder.
The diner was open, lights glowing warm through the front windows, a handful of regulars parked out front.
It looked normal, familiar. But everything about the day felt different now.
When they arrived at the station, he saw that the lot was busier than usual. A mechanic in navy coveralls was crouched next to Lily’s SUV, working one of the new tires into place. Another already leaned against the wall. Brand new, good tread.
“The new tires are Hallie’s doing,” Griff said, parking a few spots over. “She didn’t want you driving around on a donut.”
Lily nodded but didn’t say anything, her eyes shifting toward the corner of the building where a second man was mounting a new security camera to the edge of the roof.
“That’s Colt Maddox,” he explained, following her gaze. “One of Strike Force’s best techs.”
Colt caught his eye and gave a nod before going back to work, cable coiled around his arm.
“I’m guessing the new camera is your doing,” Lily said.
Griff made a low sound of agreement. “I don’t want anyone else sneaking into this lot. Not to slash tires. Not to leave threats. And sure as hell not to lie in wait.”
Lily’s jaw shifted slightly, but she said nothing. Just looked back at the parking lot like she was already imagining the next move. Griff didn’t blame her. Because someone had already drawn first blood. And the next strike, they both knew could come from anywhere.