Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
The world is covered in a thin layer of fresh snow which is perfect for tracking. And that’s exactly what I came out here to do. Luck is on our side for a change.
I start my usual perimeter run, my lungs burning from the cold as I jog along the tree line. The snow muffles everything except the crunch of my boots. About fifteen minutes in, at the southern edge of the property, I stop short.
There are fresh boot prints in the snow, and I know immediately they don’t belong to any of us. No way Dillon came out for an early-morning walk, and Boone is still curled up with Rox. I checked on them before I left.
My heart clenches as I drop into a crouch, my fingers hovering over the impressions. The tread pattern is heavy, deep, and size eleven.
Whoever left these has a longer stride, their weight settling into their heels. They’ve been here a while judging by the overlapping prints, the snow compacted in places the way it only gets when someone stays put.
My head whips around. The line of sight is immediately obvious. A straight through the break in the trees, directly toward the master bedroom windows. A cold spike slides down my spine. I pull out my phone and take pictures from every angle.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter as I stand.
Someone was way too close last night, watching us from just out of sight of our cameras. I don’t run the rest of the way back.
I sprint.
The guys are already up when I slam through the mudroom door. Dillon has coffee going, Boone pacing by the fireplace. I burst in and don’t even stop to breathe.
“I found something.”
They look up immediately. I motion for them to come closer, then pull out my phone and show them the photos. “Those boot prints are fresh. Southern border. Someone camped there for a while, staring straight at your bedroom window.”
Boone swears under his breath. “Fuck. She got into bed with me early this morning.”
Dillon’s eyes flick over the pictures. “Do you think it’s Rossi?”
“It could be,” I say, then glance back at Boone. “Look, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but the timing is too damn convenient. He doesn’t show up out here the same day you tell Tessa to go fuck herself unless she’s in on it.”
Boone rakes both hands through his hair. “Fuck.”
“Showing up when she did wasn’t an accident,” I say, absolutely, one hundred percent convinced. “Either someone sent her or she’s been paid to bring eyes with her, but she’s working with them. Dillon, dig into her finances. See what you can find. I’m right. I know it.”
He’s already typing before I even finish the sentence, delving into his laptop with that intensely focused calm that can’t be taught. A few minutes of rapid keystrokes later, the clacking stops.
“I found it.”
Boone steps closer. “What?”
“A twenty-thousand-dollar wire transfer,” Dillon says. “Three weeks ago. From a shell corporation registered out of Delaware.”
I frown. “Who’s behind it?”
“Who do you think?” Dillon’s expression hardens. “I followed the trail just to be sure. The shell is owned by another shell, which is funded by a holding company that when you peel back enough layers, ties directly to one of Caruso’s laundering pipelines.”
Boone drops his head back, eyes narrowing in a piercing, withering glare at the ceiling, his fury locked down so tight it has nowhere to go. “She was paid to give them intel. Our location. Our routines. Maybe even where Roxie fucking sleeps if someone was stupid enough to tell her.” He closes his eyes like the sucker punch finally lands. “That stupid—” He cuts himself off, his voice cracking with rage and something dangerously close to grief. “She sold us out. Sold me out. Again.”
“Hey,” I say, stepping in and curling a hand around his shoulder, holding on tight. “This isn’t on you.”
But he doesn’t hear me.
Dillon snaps the laptop shut. “What matters is that we know now.”
Boone braces his hands on the counter, his shoulders shaking once before he forces them still. When he finally looks up, his eyes are ice-cold. “No more chances. Tessa’s done. Caruso’s men are done. Anyone who comes near her is done, too. We’ve got eyes in town. Let’s use them.”
Adrenaline buzzes through my blood, and this time it feels right. This isn’t just a threat anymore. It’s a battle line, and someone crossed it.
Boone storms out. Even though it’s only been minutes, urgency floods my veins, impossible to ignore. I turn to Dillon. “Get on the phone. Someone in law enforcement has to be building a case against Caruso. Find out who. We’re going to need help. At the end of the day, Roxie is a witness. They’ll want to talk to her anyway.”
He nods and jumps on the phone, already digging into contacts from his hacking work. I leave Boone to burn off what he needs to so he can come back focused. I do another sweep of the perimeter from the windows.