Page 53 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

As the house came into view through the trees, my hand dropped unconsciously to the gun at my belt, just in case.

Chapter Seventeen

Webb

Eddie was already pacing by the window with his arms crossed, a half-smile tugging at his mouth like he still wasn’t over how easily he’d slipped into character.

“I gave them the full show,” he said. “Slurred a bit, scratched my ass, and acted like some half-drunk swamp rat out hunting squirrels. Stumbled up like I didn’t know where I was going’ and asked if they needed any help.”

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, listening closely.

“They told me to piss off,” he continued with a grin. “Real polite. But I stuck around and asked if they had any extra cash. Told ’em I was down bad, and I hadn’t even caught anything for dinner. One of 'em—a tall guy with a bad attitude—handed me fifty bucks and asked if I’d seen any strangers. He was specific about them being non-locals, maybe deeper in the bayou.”

“And you said?” I asked.

Eddie’s grin widened. “I laughed and told them the only people who know the bayou live in it. I’ve been out here five years, and I haven’t seen a stranger. Then I added—real casual—'A stranger doesn’t make it out, not alive. This place’ll eat you if you don’t know it.’”

I snorted. “You’re too good at that.”

He shrugged. “They bought it, but they’re on edge and definitely armed. I saw a couple of rifles sitting out in the house. They're not for show either—clean, loaded, and ready.”

I nodded grimly. “That tracks. I almost got caught by the two who came up behind your position.”

Gabby was at the stove, fiddling with the kettle. She glanced over. “I saw them, they stopped right in front of where I was hiding.”

I straightened instantly. “Wait—what? How close did they get?”

“They didn’t see me,” she confirmed, reaching for the burner switch, "but they got about two feet away from me."

My heart stopped. “Gabby—don’t?—”

I crossed the room in two strides and gently batted her hand away from the knob. “No fires, remember. We can’t risk smoke or light right now, especially the type you’re likely to start.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You gonna make the coffee then?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation, already grabbing the percolator and doing it the quiet, no-flame way with the backup camping burner we kept for emergencies.

She moved to lean on the counter, arms folded loosely across her chest. “They were both armed. I saw sidearms, and one of them had an ankle bulge—backup piece, probably.”

I met Eddie’s eyes across the room. He gave a sharp nod. “They’re serious. We're not dealing with amateurs.”

“We’re not lighting anything after sunset.” My voice was low and final. “No fire and no lights from now on. Moonlight through the windows only.”

“I’ll put the drone up every few hours overnight,” Eddie added, pulling his phone from his back pocket to check battery levels. “Quick sweeps and high altitude to keep it silent. We’ll take shifts monitoring movement.”

“We also need to keep an eye on the pro-grade security they’ve got at that house.” I set the percolator on the burner and watched it closely. “Their perimeter’s too clean. There are no trip alarms and no DIY setups. Just sensors.”

“Well,” Gabby said drily, “that’s what the string and cans are for.”

I turned to her, smiling despite everything. “Old school.”

She grinned back at me. “They're reliable. If tech fails, a metal clatter will still wake someone up.”

The room went quiet for a beat, the only noise the soft hiss of the burner and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. I moved to Gabby without thinking, wrapping my arms around her from behind. She leaned into it, warm and solid against me, and I pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

“No one’s gonna hurt you,” I murmured. “We’re gonna make damn sure of that.”

She sighed, her hands resting lightly over mine. “I’m past the point of worrying about myself.”

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