Page 85 of Stone
“Does it matter?” she asked. He frowned. She reached across the console and laid her hand on his. Of its own volition, his turned and wrapped around hers. “This isn’t something someone like me is ever ready for,” she said. “Sometimes we have to do what we have to do, and how we feel about it doesn’t matter.”
He scowled. “Howyoufeel about things always matters,” he grumbled.
Her indulgent smile made him feel petulant, but he didn’t miss the appreciation in her eyes either. She might not agree with him, but she liked that she—and her feelings—mattered to him.
“We don’thaveto do this,” he said, trying one more time to keep her from walking into the lion’s den. It was futile, he knew, but he had to try.
“You’re right. We don’t,” she said. “But we are. We’re going to do this because we need to replant the piece of your property that burned. And we need to build a fence for Sherman so we don’t have to worry about him running off. And we want to be able to eat out whenever we want or go for a hike. But more importantly, we’re going to do this because it’s the right thing.”
He huffed. Then tugging her forward, he kissed her. A kiss for luck, sure, but more a kiss of admiration. And one of disbelief. That this woman, this smart, kind, quirky, slightly clumsy woman who made him laugh, showed him what courage was, and drove him more than a little crazy with lust, loved him still boggled his mind. She might not have said it yet, but he knew. And to make sure she didn’t have any doubts, he needed to tell her he felt the same.
“I—”
She set a finger over his lips to stop the words. “Don’t say it now,” she said, knowing exactly what he’d been about to share. “I don’t want to hear it when we’re about to meet three dangerous men. It feels too much like a goodbye or, I don’t know, like you’re doubting we’ll walk out alive. Wewillwalk out alive. Wewillstop the decades of criminal behavior. And wewillbuild that fence and teach Sherman some tricks. Well, we’ll try on that last one,” she added with a smile. “When we’re not walking into danger, when we’re somewhere quiet—for both our minds and our bodies—you can decide if you still want to say it. And if you do, whenever that is, I’ll be ready to hear it.”
He frowned. “I want to say it now.”
“Duly noted,” she replied, checking the safety on the gun she’d pulled from the glove compartment as he’d shown her. “You still have to wait. Ready?” she asked, tucking the weaponinto the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. They’d decided to try to smuggle a weapon in. Her cropped, fitted jeans wouldn’t hide anything, and her top was barely loose and long enough to cover the small gun at her back. Between her clothes and her lack of history with weapons, they hoped it would be enough for the triad to overlook searching her.
With a huff, he opened his door, pocketed the keys, then rounded the truck. Juliana carried the file in one hand, and he took her other in his. “Whatever he says, do not leave my side,” he said. “He will likely be armed, or if he’s not, Gregor or Polinsky will be. Possibly both. HICC needs us to stay together.”
“Did you know that Mike Day, a SEAL, was shot twenty-seven times and lived?” she said.
He pulled her to a stop. She looked at him. He raised a brow. She winced. “I should have said something about puppies and rainbows, shouldn’t I?”
Stone tugged her close and kissed her cheek. “Day lived, so that’s good. But no, I’d rather not hear about people being shot twenty-seven times. Especially not as we’re about to enter…” He nodded to the warehouse.
“Galt was founded in 1869,” she said as they continued toward the door of the old granary. “It was laid out by the Central Pacific Railway when Obed Harvey convinced them to lay tracks across his land. It’s named after Galt, Ontario, although the only similarity I could find is that they were both farming communities.”
“And before the Europeans?” he asked.
“Miwok Indians lived here. Primarily three tribes. Most were ‘moved’ to the missions when the Spanish occupied the land. Then when the Mexicans won it during the war of independence, they encouraged settlements and the land was given in a grant in…” She made a face, trying to remember. He liked history as much as the next person but didn’t often take note of the details.Those details served a purpose now, though. Focusing on them helped keep Juliana’s nerves at bay.
“1844!” she said, remembering. “After that, farmers took over, then the railway came, then eventually the highway. It’s stayed small though, only about 23,000 people.”
He appreciated agricultural lands and their vastness. He preferred his mountains, though. Mountains that they’d hopefully get back to soon.
“Ready?” he asked, pausing at the slightly ajar door. Her eyes darted to the strip of darkness, then bounced to his. She nodded. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said on an exhale as he shifted her to the side and pushed on the warm, smooth metal.
She started inching forward, but he stopped her, pressing their backs to the outer wall as the door swung wide. When nothing happened, when no bullets came flying or bombs exploded, he called out. “Lowery.”
“Cautious one, aren’t you?” a voice answered from the deep in the shadows.
“I find it a helpful trait in staying alive,” Simon responded.
“Come in. It’s just me. For now,” he said. “Show your hands.”
Simon squeezed Juliana’s hand in reassurance before letting go and stepping into the darkness. As planned, she stayed close enough for him to feel the occasional bump of her body against his right shoulder.
He moved slowly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the shadows and filtered light. Scanning the area, he took in the details of the former processing part of the facility. It no longer contained any machinery and was little more than a huge open—and empty—room that smelled vaguely of oil and decay.
Something crunched under his foot, and he glanced down to see the remnants of a bird’s nest. Looking up, large beams, littered with bird feces and swallows’ nests, along with twigs and other scraps, crisscrossed the space. They had more importantthings to worry about, but he really hoped that getting shit on by a bird wasn’t on the agenda for the day. The guys would never let him live it down.
“Hands,” Lowery reminded them, pulling Stone’s attention back to the room. They both dutifully raised theirs as he searched the area. Lowery stood in the southeast corner, his back to the wall. It wasn’t hard to deduce his plan. Once he was sure they were unarmed, Polinsky and Gregor would come in from behind, surrounding him and Juliana.
“Stop,” Lowery said. They stopped. He stepped out of the darkest shadows enough for them to see the gun pointed at them. Juliana sucked in a breath but remained quiet.
“McLean, take two steps to your left. Lift your shirt, then your pant legs. I’d be remiss if I didn’t check you for weapons,” Lowery said.
