Page 58 of Deadly Force
"This guy's always one step ahead," he says.
The air around us shifts. Like the moment before a storm breaks. I blink. "What are you saying?"
"I’m saying they know how you think. Where you go when you're scared. Who you turn to when the walls close in. The places that feel safe to you." His voice is calm. Too calm. "Your patterns. Your instincts. Your weaknesses."
Each word lands like a physical blow.
"They're not tracking you, Brooke."
He holds my gaze, and I see something in his eyes that terrifies me. A certainty that cuts deeper than any fear I've felt so far.
"They're anticipating you."
FOURTEEN
Caleb
I should be cataloging threats.
Instead, I'm remembering the way Brooke's breath hitched when I pulled her close.
Not tactically. Not objectively. Just thinking about it like some lovesick teenager. The heat of it. The way she leaned in like she didn't care what came next. Like for one second, the world outside that kiss didn't exist.
And I made it happen.
I didn't think. Didn't assess. Didn't even pause to consider if kissing a woman I'm supposed to be protecting was the dumbest thing I'd done all week.
I'm not green. Not some rookie running on adrenaline and bad judgment. I should've been better. Been sharper. Should've kept my head in the game.
My jaw tightens.
I lean forward, elbows on knees, and try to breathe through the pressure building in my chest.
Mick trusted me to take care of her. Silastaskedme with what we both assumed was a babysitting job.
Now here I am, watching Brooke like she's the center of gravity, thinking about her voice and her hands and that kiss, losing my edge all over again.
The orderly who checked Mateo's vitals earlier is back, lingering in the doorway longer than necessary. This time he's looking at the machines, but his eyes keep drifting to Brooke, then to me. Normal curiosity or something else?
That should have my full attention. Should have me evaluating threat levels, reading body language.
Instead, I'm noting the way Brooke's hair catches the light streaming through the window. The way she absently tucks a strand behind her ear when she's concentrating.
Focus.
I force myself to think like a professional. We've got a dead graduate student, a conspiracy that reaches into places it shouldn't, and people who are willing to kill to keep their secrets buried. Mateo's laid up because someone decided we were getting too close to something they wanted to stay hidden.
I pull out my cell, ready to contact Delilah. Something I should have done the second Brooke gave me a name and a direction.
Rather than risk waking Mateo and drawing Brooke into the conversation, I tap out an email, keeping one eye on the door and one eye on my message.
In under two hundred characters, I rattle off what Brooke has told me, where we’re at, and ask Delilah to use every skill she has to dig into any possible scandals at Sonora Investments.
Lawsuits. Allegations. Harassment. I need to know what kind of company we're dealing with.
The kind that discredits threats, or the kind that eliminates them.
Brooke
