Page 51 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

Webb looked at him. “Depends on what they want.”

“And how far they’re willing to go to get it,” I said quietly.

The drone battery started flashing low, so I pulled it back toward us, descending carefully through the canopy until it landed with a soft crunch of grass and dirt. Webb knelt and powered it down while I handed over the controller.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, brushing dirt from my knees.

He looked at me, then at Eddie. “We don’t confront yet. Not until we know how many and what they’re after.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “All right, I’ll keep a closer eye on the area. We can get some cameras up near that barn, too.”

Webb’s jaw tightened. “Let’s move fast.”

I picked up the drone, the weight of it suddenly heavier in my hands. They were here, watching and waiting. But now, so were we. Knowledge was power and all that jazz.

“We’ll go ahead,” Webb suggested, crouched low beside the thick curtain of bushes we’d found near the split in the trees. “You stay here and keep yourself hidden. We’ll be within earshot the whole time.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re asking me to sit in a pile of leaves and twigs while you two idiots go play bait?”

Eddie grinned, already checking the magazine in his sidearm. “Not bait, recon.”

“Sounds an awful lot like bait,” I replied smartly.

Webb rested a hand lightly on my shoulder. “We’ve got to see how many are there and get a read on them. You’re the last line, Gabby. If something goes wrong, you’re our eyes.”

I hated that it made sense. “I still don’t like it,” I grumbled, hunkering down deeper into the underbrush.

“It doesn’t matter if you like it. It’s what we’re doing,” Webb clipped, flashing me a brief, tense smile before rising to his feet. “Now, stay low.”

“I am low,” I hissed. “I’m basically a human swamp mushroom at this point.”

Eddie snorted as they crept off, their weapons hidden beneath loose shirts and moving like men who’d done this kind of thing more than they should’ve.

When they were out of sight, I let out a slow breath and settled back. I pulled a bottle of water from my backpack, twisted the cap slowly to avoid the usual crack of betrayal, and took a sip. The bayou was buzzing around me—birds chirping in warning tones, the low drone of insects, and frogs croaking like they knew secrets.

I kept an eye out for movement and swamp beasties alike, knowing my luck would absolutely have me bitten by a snake mid-surveillance.

Boredom crept in, so I fished out a little plastic bag of Goldfish crackers and started munching quietly. The salty, fake-cheese tang was a tiny comfort in a very uncomfortable situation. I popped another in my mouth and paused, debating whether thecheddar or parmesan ones were my favorite. I really liked the extra toasty kind, too, but the classic cheddar had that perfect?—

Crunch.

Mid-thought, my molars locked down on a particularly crispy fish, and a loud crack of branches echoed nearby. I froze, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, a solid mouthful of dry cracker now tasting stale on my tongue.

Two men stepped into view, their boots heavy on the forest floor, and stopped a few feet in front of where I was crouched. My entire body went still, lungs straining against the sudden pressure of panic.

One of them had a beard that looked like he’d forgotten razors existed. The other wore a cap, pulled low, and carried himself like someone who didn’t need to talk to be in charge.

“I picked up a cell ping around here,” the bearded one said, scanning the trees. “Wasn’t long ago. The old man in town said he saw movement. Said it didn’t look like locals—people moving around this area, acting suspicious.”

The other guy scoffed. “That old drunk? You really trust him?”

“He might be pickled, but he’s lived out here his whole damn life. Knows when something doesn’t smell right.”

“He also said a ghost dog keeps raiding his trash cans.”

I stayed frozen, barely breathing, myheart slamming against my ribs so hard I was convinced they could hear it. My hand trembled slightly as I pressed myself tighter to the earth, wishing I could melt into the roots.

Then, a soft rustle came from my right. I turned my head ever so slightly, just in time to hear more movement. I swallowed the mouthful of cracker too fast, wincing as it scraped all the way down like I’d just eaten a handful of gravel.

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