Page 13 of Liam James
Max gave me a sidelong look. “You planning on saying anything besides ‘yep’ today?”
I grinned. “Yep.”
He rolled his eyes, but the tension broke for half a second, and sometimes that was all you got in this job—a half-second to breathe before it all went sideways again.
Forest
Fraiser shut the laptop. “I’ll call Liam and give him the update. They need to stay put until we get eyes on that cabin. It’s a damn good thing Poppy decided to tell Liam what was going on.”
I shook my head. “They won’t stay put. Not if Jenny thinks her brother’s coming.”
“She’s scared,” Max said quietly.
“She’s cornered,” I corrected. “That’s worse. She doesn’t want her brother to find Poppy.”
Because cornered people often run and make mistakes. And right now, the only thing standing between Jarod Kennedy and the two women he wanted was a Navy SEAL with more stubbornness than sense.
Which, granted, described all of us.
Fraiser
“Team goes in tonight,” Fraiser said, checking his watch. “We sweep the place, see what he’s got in there before he knows we’re coming.”
I nodded slowly, scanning the treeline beyond the cabin photo on the screen.
I had a bad feeling about this one.
Not the kind you said out loud, because then everyone started acting jumpy.
But the kind that sat low in your gut and waited for the moment you were proven right.
10
Forest
The cabin sat at the edge of the world.
We parked a mile out, hiked the rest under the cover of trees, the moon breaking through in thin silver slants. Fraiser had his rifle slung over his back, muttering about coordinates while I kept my eyes on the dark windows ahead.
“Power’s on,” Fraiser whispered.
“Means nothing,” I said.
It could mean he was here. Could mean he left it on so it looked like he was here. Either way, my gut wasn’t liking it.
We crouched low at the tree line. The place was quiet. Too quiet.
I scanned the yard—gravel drive, one beat-up truck, trash cans by the porch. A wind chime tapped lazily against the gutter, the only sound in the whole damn woods.
“Something’s off,” I murmured.
Fraiser adjusted the scope on his rifle. “No movement. Not a shadow.”
“That’s what’s wrong.”
Guys like Jarod Kennedy didn’t leave things this neat unless they wanted you to walk right in.
We circled the place slow,checked the back windows. Inside, the cabin was dark but not empty. A table with maps spread across it. A laptop is still open. Beer cans are stacked in the sink.
