Chapter 30

Hawthorne darted around a car slowing in front of him as his muscle memory took over, implementing techniques learned in his Marine tactical driver training.

His gaze pushed ahead, spotting vehicles and obstacles that he needed to avoid.

The gas pedal could be as useful as brakes in some situations.

Like now, when he was about to crash into the back of a minivan.

He hit the gas and swerved into the oncoming lane, then sped back into the right lane in front of the minivan.

He took his right foot off the gas and used his left foot to pump the brakes hard, several times.

There. The dual braking system started to respond, giving him a weaker brake from half the system.

If he could slow enough, he could use the emergency brake to do the rest. But if he tried it at the speed he was going now, he'd lose control.

Didn't help that vehicles kept getting in his way.

And that he'd just reached a hill. That he was going to go down.

The height at the top of the hill gave him a birds' eye view of the traffic ahead. Three cars in front of him, then a brief gap before the oncoming traffic would reach him.

He hoped.

His car slid down the hill, gaining speed.

The rear of the pickup truck in front of him came up fast.

He darted around, letting the plummet give him the speed he needed to pass the pickup, then the two cars ahead of that.

The oncoming semi gained speed faster than he'd hoped.

Great time to drive ten miles over the limit, pal.

Hawthorne glanced over his shoulder, watching for the split-second he cleared the front car.

There.

He darted back into the right lane as the semi driver blared the horn.

If only an uphill would follow, but the road laid out flat instead, letting Hawthorne's car keep its speed.

He pumped the brakes again, getting a little help from half the braking system.

A chain-link fence on the right bordered what appeared to be an industrial property. Looked like the best assist he was going to get.

He kept pumping the brakes as he neared the fence.

He angled the wheel just enough to send his car over the curb, onto the empty sidewalk where he could line up the passenger side with the fence.

As gently as he could, he aimed his car toward the fence.

A scraping sound made him grit his teeth. His car would never be the same.

He angled away, then back to the fence, letting the scrape of metal on metal slow the car until he could safely apply the emergency brake.

The car finally stopped.

And Hawthorne breathed.

Thank the Lord he hadn't hurt anyone.

He pushed open the driver's door and stood, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. No way was that from worn brake pads.

He dropped to the grass between the sidewalk and the fence and pulled his smartphone from his pocket. Turning on the flashlight function, he shined it under the car.

Sure enough. The brake lines had obviously been cut and were wet with splattered brake fluid that should've been on the inside.

Pulling back from the car, he got to his feet. Who would want to tamper with his brakes?

The author of the threatening note from the night before? Someone from the cult? Maybe he'd shaken up Patch as much as he'd hoped. Pushed the conman to do something about the threat Hawthorne presented. Patch could've had someone leave the note on Hawthorne's car, too. Intentionally using Best Life stationery to send a clear message.

Hawthorne had left voicemail messages with two of Sam's friends whose names he'd gotten from Rebekah. He hadn't been able to find a number or location for the third one yet. Maybe Hawthorne was getting too close to the truth about Sam, and Patch or someone else wanted to stop him.

But what if he wasn't the only target? Jazz's flat tire hadn't been an accident either. The knife-sized cut made that obvious. What if the same person who'd just tried to frighten or kill him was after her, too?

She'd tried to brush it off as nothing that night. Did that mean it wasn't the only harassment or attack she'd experienced?

Hawthorne awakened his phone's screen and looked up the local police non-emergency phone number. He'd let the police investigate the damage to his car, but first thing tomorrow morning, he needed to talk to Jazz.

As tough and independent as she was, he needed to know if she was in danger. Because if she was, he would do everything in his power to protect her.

"Oh, here it comes. The meet cute coffee spill." Nev pointed at the screen as she stuffed more popcorn into her mouth.

Jazz laughed when the predicted moment unfolded in one of their favorite romantic comedies. They'd seen the movie about a hundred times, but it was even more fun to watch now that they'd memorized every line.

She reached into the popcorn bowl she and Nev shared on the sofa between them.

Alvarez was conked out on the rug a few feet away, but Flash kept an eye on the TV screen fixed to the wall and barked every time a doorbell sounded in a scene.

Grabbing a handful of the buttery popcorn, Jazz grinned. "Aww, I love this part. Look at his face."

Nev nodded. "Mm-hmm. You know he love her, girl. From first sight."

She and Jazz let out an exaggerated, swoony sigh at the same time, then broke into laughter.

Jazz had so missed this. These girls' movie nights. Hanging with her BFF, just the two of them, relaxed and safe in their affection for each other.

She'd been surprised when Nev had suggested a movie night as soon as Jazz got home after her late shift at the fair. It had already been twelve thirty a.m. then, but Nev had said they'd better take advantage of the moment. Branson wasn't going to be back to camp on the sofa until three in the morning after his security job shift was done. And he'd apparently told Nev he'd feel better if she stayed awake and alert until he was there to protect her anyway.

Jazz hadn't needed more of an excuse than that to hang with her best bud. She could sleep in tomorrow since she would be taking the late-night shift at the fair again.

Even if she'd had to take a morning shift, she wouldn't have missed this. It was just like old times. The best of her old times with Nev. This was what had gotten her to move to the Twin Cities when Nev had asked her to. If only things hadn't changed, and they could still enjoy life together like this.

The jazzy ringtone of her phone contrasted with the movie's soundtrack. She scanned the end table by the sofa and the coffee table in front of them. "Where'd I put it?"

Nev stopped the movie with the remote. "Um." She glanced around. "Oh. I've got it with mine." She turned to her right and pulled the decorative pillow out from beneath her arm. Their two phones had inexplicably ended up nestled together there. Nev tossed Jazz her cell.

"Thanks." Jazz caught it and checked the screen as it rang again.

Phoenix?Jazz mouthed the word to Nev as she pressed the button to answer.

"Meet me at the Forever Home training center at six thirty a.m." Phoenix's command hit Jazz's ear before she could even say hello.

"Forever Home?" The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Jazz couldn't place it.

"The shelter and training center where Alvarez and others were rehabilitated."

Oh. Jazz had heard something about a woman who had helped Phoenix train Alvarez and Toby. Maybe Raksa, too. She couldn't remember the details. It didn't seem like the PK-9 team talked about the place or the trainer much. "Why do you want me there?"

She probably shouldn't ask. Everyone else went with a no-questions-asked policy with Phoenix. Like they were all afraid of her. But if Phoenix was going to spring an early morning meeting on her with only a few hours warning, she should at least be able to know there was a point to it.

"Marion Moore has added an outdoor training field where Flash can test and refresh his takedown and agility skills."

That did sound cool. The facility Phoenix usually rented for them was pretty small and had limited equipment. Especially for a dog like Flash, whose exceptional athleticism meant he was rarely challenged by average setups. "Okay."

"I've messaged you the address." Through the encrypted app PK-9 used, Jazz assumed.

"I'll see you tom—"

All sound from the other end cut off before Jazz could finish.

"Bye to you, too." Jazz muttered the sarcastic farewell as she lowered her phone and gave Nev the look of annoyance she'd rather aim at Phoenix.

"What?" Nev had shifted so her back leaned against the arm of the sofa and she fully faced Jazz, legs crossed under the afghan her grandma had crocheted.

"She wants me to meet her first thing in the morning. Six thirty. At this Forever Home place."

"Ooh." Nev widened her eyes.

"What?"

"Nobody gets to go there."

Jazz gave her a skeptical stare.

"I mean, adopters must since Marion Moore adopts out dogs she rescues. Phoenix got Al and Cannenta from there. But I don't think even Cora has been there." Nev fingered a twisty curl of her hair as she looked toward the ceiling. "Bris maybe mentioned going there once to touch up Toby's detection skills. But she's the only one I know of besides Phoenix."

"That's…very sus."

Nev shifted the popcorn bowl she'd conveniently moved to her lap and shoved Jazz's leg with a blanketed foot. "It is not."

"What's wrong with the place? Is that where the boss's dead bodies are buried?"

"You crazy." Nev held up a kernel of popcorn between her fingers and aimed it at Jazz before letting it fly.

The kernel harmlessly bounced off Jazz's soft Henley and fell to the red fleece blanket covering her legs.

"Phoenix goes there a lot, right?"

Nev shrugged. "I dunno." She pushed popcorn into her mouth.

"But she never takes anyone with her."

Nev held up a finger, so Jazz corrected herself.

"No one but Bris, apparently. So why in the world would she call me in the middle of the night and say I have to meet her there? She doesn't like me, so it can't be good."

"You always think she don't like you. But this proves I'm right."

"About what?"

"That she just treatin' you the way she treat everybody. I told you she don't act no friendlier with anybody else."

"Then why is she singling me out for this?"

"It's an honor. Maybe she likes you best."

"More like she plans to do something weird there when nobody's around to see."

Nev snorted. "Girl, you been reading too much Carson Steele. The boss ain't no serial killer."

"How do you know?" Jazz crossed her arms over her shirt.

"You for real?"

"Sort of." Jazz lowered her arms. "I mean, what do you really know about her? What do any of you know? She's always so secretive, and nobody knows why. What's she hiding? Don't you want to know?"

"Not really." Nev fingered the popcorn without picking any up. "We all got a right to some secrets."

"Not when she knows everyone's secrets but doesn't want anyone to know hers."

Nev narrowed her eyes as she watched Jazz.

"What?"

"I'm just surprised."

Jazz knew that tone and the shift to more formal language. It was the lead-in to something she was not going to like.

"I didn't think you'd be so sensitive, what with your Army training and all."

"I'm not sensitive."

"Uh-huh." A sarcastic version of the affirmation that meant Nev didn't believe it. "You're only suspicious of the boss because you think she doesn't like you."

"That's not true. Anyone who isn't so awed by her as you and the team would be suspicious."

"You know what I've noticed about the boss?" Nev tucked her fingers into her curls. "She seems to expose people's insecurities without having to do or say a thing. People just bring their insecurities with them, and their hangups make them either hate her or be like…drawn to her. It's like her superpower."

"So you're saying it's my fault she doesn't like me?"

"Course not. I'm just saying she can help you with those insecurities if you'd let her."

Jazz pressed her lips together to keep in the retort she wanted to throw out. That she didn't have PTSD like Nev. But she wouldn't risk hurting her best friend. "I know she helped you. But I haven't been through trauma or anything."

"You been through stuff."

Jazz fiddled with a pilled bit of fabric on the blanket. "Nothing like you."

"Doesn't mean the boss couldn't help you anyway."

Jazz lifted her gaze to Nev. "Pretty sure she doesn't want to. And I wouldn't want help from someone who keeps so many secrets. Does anyone even know who she really is? I mean, she could have some really scary skeletons in her closet."

Nev smushed her lips together and turned her head away. Then she brought her dark gaze back.

Jazz braced herself. She knew that look. Nev was about to tell it like it was. Or at least how she thought it was.

"Have you ever thought that maybe you put up walls with people?"

Jazz stared at the image on the TV, the couple frozen in their romantic moment.

"Like maybe you're afraid they'll reject you, so you reject them first."

"Of course not." Jazz jerked her gaze to Nev, hurt squeezing her ribs. "I don't push people away. They just don't like me. You know I'm not like you, popular with everyone."

"That's not true." Nev leaned forward over the popcorn bowl. "You would be popular, and everybody would love you, if you'd let them."

"So you are saying it's my fault." The hurt migrated to Jazz's voice and pricked at her eyes. "I thought you always had my back."

"I do." Nev pulled away as if Jazz had struck her. "You know that."

"Sure." Jazz clenched her jaw to keep from crying. "That's why you don't want me to like Hawthorne either."

"I didn't say that. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"And you're so sure I'm going to. That he's not going to like me because no one does."

Nev lifted her hands in exasperation. "I'm afraid you're going to fall in love with a guy who's going to leave. A guy who doesn't feel the same."

"Plans can change." Jazz tilted up her chin as she looked away. "And I think he does like me. A lot."

"Fine." Nev picked up the remote and twisted to face the TV. "Then go ahead and like the guy."

"I will."

Nev played the movie, and they watched the rest of it in silence.

Jazz had encouraged Nev to like Branson and supported her when she'd found love. Why couldn't Nev do the same for her?

Nothing seemed to go right anymore. Except for Hawthorne.

The hero in the movie said something sweet to the heroine, a lovesick light in his eyes.

But Jazz heard Hawthorne's voice instead, saw his handsome face, his amazing eyes aimed at her, filled with love and acceptance.

If things continued with Hawthorne like she hoped they would, she'd finally have the happiness she'd been looking for all her life. She couldn't wait.