Page 105 of Forged in Peril

“I know, Jaclyn. It’s okay to let go,” she said, as gently as she could.

Bristol held her hand out as she waited, ignoring the ache in her tired muscles.

She couldn’t see their faces, but she was sure that Cameron, Ben, and Reilly were offering the same prayer in their hearts that she was.

At last, there was a sharp clattering sound as Jaclyn’s gun fell to the floor.

She took Bristol’s hand in her own and stepped forward, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second before Jaclyn stared down at the floor.

Bristol watched as Ben grabbed a pair of handcuffs from a loop at his belt and snapped them gently onto Jaclyn’s wrists before leading her out of the smoky office.

It was over.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

CAMERON

It was dark by the time he’d finished giving his statement at the police station, and all that Cameron could think about was getting a chance to talk with Bristol.

Even his longing for some real food could be safely ignored, so long as he could finally catch her alone.

For him and for his brothers, danger was just a part of a normal day’s work, but he could scarcely imagine how traumatic the whole day–and the past several months–must have been for Bristol.

On the outside, she seemed to be holding up just fine, but they’d hardly had five minutes to speak all afternoon, and to make matters worse, she’d been interviewed longer and by more cops than anyone else.

He leaned back on the uncomfortable plastic chair that someone had let him place in the hallway, trying to stretch some of the day’s kinks out of his neck.

Ben and Reilly had offered to stay with him and wait for her, but he’d told them to go home and get some rest.

Gabriel and Asher had come by to check in several hours before, but they too had headed in for the night, unless Gabe had decided to go back to the office to do yet more work.

For the first time in far too long, he thought of his final brother, Jacob.

He would have been there, too, but Cam figured that asking him to hop on a flight from Niger–or was he in Libya by now?–to come and keep him company at the police station would have been a bit of a big ask.

Then again, considering Jacob’s history with the police, perhaps he wouldn’t have wanted to darken their door even if he’d only had to drive across town.

Before he could ponder the matter further, he heard the sound of a door opening behind him.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Chaplin,” the detective said, ushering her out into the hall. Cameron got to his feet. “If we need anything else, we’ll give you a call.”

“Any time,” Bristol said, shaking the man’s hand before he disappeared back down the maze-like hallway.

All he’d wanted the entire day was to have a moment alone with her, but now that that moment had arrived, he felt strangely awkward. He glanced up at the flickering tube lights overhead, his eye catching on a long-neglected cobweb resting in a corner.

So much had happened. He had no idea where to begin.

He cleared his throat, settling on the safest entry point to conversation that he could think of.

“How does fresh air and a very late dinner sound?”

Bristol smiled up at him.

Somehow, despite the day she’d had and the lingering redness that rimmed her eyes, she still managed to look almost painfully gorgeous.

“Everything I’ve eaten for the last eight hours has come out of a vending machine,” she said. “I didn’t even get to eat any of that groveling pie. Jaclyn kind of ruined the mood.”

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