29. Blaze
BLAZE
The second Trigger zoomed in on that photograph, my stomach dropped hard.
Because the picture wasn’t centered on Flick.
It was centered on me.
The café behind her blurred slightly from distance and rain.
But me?
Sharp enough to identify.
Standing near the curb.
Watching her.
Watching us.
Wolf looked up slowly from the laptop.
“That’s not surveillance on a witness.”
“No,” Ava whispered.
Tate’s expression darkened instantly.
“That’s target acquisition.”
Flick stiffened hard in my arms.
“Hersh…”
I already knew.
Or at least part of me did.
Because suddenly pieces started sliding together in my head.
Too many pieces.
Too damn fast.
Trigger leaned closer to the screen again.
“Wait.”
His fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard.
Another image appeared.
Then another.
Everyone from Eagle River.
Different days.
Different locations.
And every single photo included me somewhere nearby.
At the tavern.
Leaving the sheriff’s office.
Walking near the river trail.
Watching Flick.
Protecting Flick.
My pulse turned cold.
They’d been tracking me before tonight.
Wolf saw it too.
“Why would the cartel care about Blaze?”
Ava looked sick again.
Not nervous sick.
Recognition sick.
And that scared the hell out of me.
“Ava,” Tate said sharply.
She looked up slowly.
Then quietly said:
“Because he’s the Ranger from Juárez.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Trigger blinked once.
“What?”
Flick pulled back slightly in my arms to look up at me.
Confused.
“Hersh?”
Damn it.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Because I knew exactly what Ava meant now.
Knew exactly which mission she was talking about.
And judging by the look on Ava’s face?
Federal agencies knew too.
Wolf frowned. “Somebody wanna explain?”
Ava stared at me carefully.
“The case crossed my desk years ago. Eight years ago, a covert Ranger operation hit a cartel trafficking route near Juárez.”
Flick’s body stiffened against mine.
Oh no.
“There were over forty women and children being moved across the border,” Ava continued quietly. “The Rangers wiped out the convoy.”
Trigger’s eyes widened slightly.
“Hersh…”
I looked away briefly.
Because I hated this part.
Not the mission.
Never the mission.
What came after.
“The cartel lost millions of dollars,” Ava said softly. “And one of the men killed during the operation…”
My jaw tightened hard.
“He was related to the senator.”
The tavern went dead still.
Flick stared at me like she suddenly realized she never truly knew how dangerous my life had been.
“Related how?” Wolf asked.
Ava hesitated.
Then:
“His son.”
Shock slammed through the room.
Trigger actually sat back in his chair.
“No way.”
Tate swore viciously under his breath.
Flick looked up at me slowly.
“Hersh…”
God.
I hated the fear in her eyes right then.
Not fear of me.
Fear for me.
“That operation was buried,” Ava continued. “Officially, the senator’s son died overseas years ago.” Her expression hardened. “Unofficially? He was laundering cartel money and trafficking women and children.”
Disgust rolled through the tavern instantly.
But Flick just kept staring at me.
Because now she understood.
This wasn’t random.
The senator didn’t just want the witness dead.
He wanted revenge.
On me too.
Vaughn started laughing again from the floor.
Weak.
Bloody.
Ugly.
“You finally get it now?”
Trigger stood so fast his chair slammed backward.
“Somebody shut him up before I do.”
Wolf looked tempted.
Very tempted.
Flick’s fingers curled tighter into my shirt.
“You never told me.”
I looked down at her quietly.
“There’s a lot I never told you.”
Pain flickered across her face at that.
Not an accusation.
Grief.
For all the years we lost.
Ava looked between us slowly.
“The senator blamed the Rangers for his son’s death.”
Trigger scoffed loudly.
“His son was trafficking women and children.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ava answered. “Men like him rewrite reality to survive themselves.”
True.
Too true.
Flick’s eyes searched mine carefully now.
And softly?—
almost afraid of the answer?—
she whispered:
“Did you kill him?”
Nobody spoke.
I held her gaze.
Didn’t lie.
Couldn’t.
“Yes.”
The word landed heavy.
Honest.
Real.
Flick’s breath caught softly.
But she didn’t pull away.
Didn’t look horrified.
Didn’t flinch.
Instead—
her hand slowly lifted to my face.
Gentle.
Like she already knew there was more pain attached to that answer than violence.
“Hersh…”
I swallowed once.
“He had a girl chained in the back of a truck.”
The tavern went completely silent.
Flick’s eyes filled instantly.
Because now she understood exactly why I pulled the trigger.
And downstairs on the floor?—
for the first time all night?—
Eric Vaughn stopped smiling.