Page 120 of Corpse Roads

“If she jumped… her body will need to be recovered before it’s swept away. Or maybe she’s out there, waiting for her moment.”

Hudson’s expression hardens. “Jesus, Theo. You know Hunter won’t want to hear that shit.”

“His feelings are irrelevant. She ran for a reason.”

“You’re sure that she’s a danger to herself?”

I stare at him, unblinking. “Did you think that Brooke was before she hurt herself? It isn’t always obvious.”

The vein in his neck throbs. Hudson is an excellent spook—ruthless, violent, an expert manipulator. He’s also calm and controlled when a crisis arises.

All except when it comes to his girl. I’ve seen him butcher men and break necks without blinking for Brooklyn West, usually with a smirk on his face.

“We’ll keep looking,” he decides. “But doing it from up here is no good. Let’s join the others on the ground and regroup.”

We ride back down in silence. Hunter has commandeered the hotel they were staying at, paying off the owners as he shipped in a miniature army from Sabre HQ.

The helicopter lands on the hillside, and Hudson offers me a hand as we jump out. Back in the nearby hotel, chaos has broken out. We fight through the rush of people to find the bar.

Inside, the Anaconda team has set up, pouring over ordinance maps and surveillance footage. They’ve already sent a scouting party out that swept the town centre and surrounding farmers’ fields.

“Someone better get me some results, or I’ll be mounting your fucking heads outside HQ on a spike.”

Commanding over the room, Enzo screams in the faces of everyone shrivelling away from him. Grown men I’ve worked with for years look petrified in his presence.

“Sir, we swept everywhere in a ten-mile radius,” Becket protests, wet blonde hair coated to his neck. “There was nothing. She couldn’t have run farther than that on foot.”

With a snarl, Enzo grabs a handful of Becket’s standard-issue black shirt. He pins him against the wall so high, his feet hang off the floor.

“I’m telling you to go back out there,” Enzo shouts at him. “Check dumpsters, old barns, public bathrooms. Fucking libraries! Anywhere she could be hiding.”

“We already did,” Becket struggles to say, his face turning blue. “She’s gone.”

“Get back out there or find another goddamn job. Don’t come back without the girl! You hear me?”

Hunter usually intervenes and calms his hot-tempered partner. Instead, our team leader inhabits the dark shadows of the room. He’s propped up in the corner, an invisible wall of isolation warning everyone off. Desperation leaks off him in tidal waves.

Becket dusts himself off and storms away with a curse that makes my ears burn. His small team follows—a tight-knit group of three men and one woman—heading back out into the falling snow.

They’re good operatives, second best behind the Cobra team. If they didn’t find her out there, Harlow’s already gone. Whether Enzo can admit it or not.

“Well, that was an encouraging pep talk,” Hudson quips as he strolls in behind me. “Real calm and inspirational.”

Enzo glowers at him. “You’re a fine one to talk about being calm.”

“When I threaten people, I do it properly. Some knives, a bit of blood, couple of broken bones, perhaps. You’ve really got to commit.”

He’s going to get his nose pulverised at this rate. Then Brooklyn will gut Enzo for laying a damn finger on her favourite psychopath.

“Can’t see a thing up there.” I meet Hunter’s frozen gaze. “We need more people on the ground. Any forensic evidence will be deteriorating with each day that she’s gone.”

“Forensic evidence,” Hunter repeats, his voice flat and unyielding. “What are you saying, Theodore?”

Sighing, I take a seat at the cluttered table. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“And here I was thinking your time at Sabre had come to an end.”

“Hunt,” Leighton warns from his perch at the table. “Theo came with us as soon as we heard. Lay off him.”

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