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“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I’ve been keeping my distance from Heather to keep her safe, but it’s killing me. And I’m starting to think Tyler might be involved.”
“Good instincts,” Jack said. “But be careful. If this operation is as deep as it sounds, there are a lot of moving parts. You need to be sure before you make any moves.”
“I get that,” I replied. “But how do I go about it without tipping anyone off?”
Jack chuckled, the sound rough and comforting. “Remember what I taught you about shadows, Danny? Stay in them. Watch and wait. Don’t let them know you’re watching. Gather your evidence silently. People get sloppy when they think no one’s looking.”
“I’ve got a few leads,” I said. “I’m going to start watching Tom. I have a gut feeling about him.”
“Trust your gut, but don’t ignore your head,” Jack warned. “And Danny, be careful. These guys sound dangerous.”
“Always am,” I assured him, even though we both knew that wasn’t entirely true.
“Good luck, kid. And call me if you need anything.”
“Will do. Thanks, Jack.”
I hung up, the conversation leaving me both comforted and more anxious. Jack’s words had a way of cutting through the noise, but they also reminded me of the stakes.
I spent the rest of the morning planning my next move. I knew Tom frequented a small, out-of-the-way bar called The Rusty Nail. If he was involved, he’d likely be meeting contacts there. By the afternoon, I was in my car, heading towards the bar. I parked a few blocks away, not wanting to draw attention, and settled in to watch.
Tom arrived around dusk, his truck rumbling into the lot. I slouched down in my seat, watching as he went inside. I waited, my nerves jangling, trying to keep my thoughts focused.
An hour later, he emerged with a couple of guys I didn’t recognize. They talked for a few minutes by Tom’s truck, their body language tense. I snapped a few photos with my phone, capturing their faces and the license plates of their vehicles.
As they left, I followed at a distance, careful to keep out of sight. They drove to an industrial part of town, parking behind an old warehouse. I parked a block away, creeping closer on foot, staying in the shadows.
I found a vantage point behind a stack of crates, close enough to hear snippets of their conversation. They talked about shipments, using coded language that still made the meaning clear. Drugs, money, distribution.
My pulse quickened. This was what I needed. I recorded everything, knowing this could be the break in the case. Tom’s voice was distinct, and his involvement clear. But I needed more. I needed to know who was giving the orders.
I strained to catch every word. Tom’s "point guy" at the ranch would be making sure everyone stayed on point. This was a critical piece of information. It meant that Tom, or at least someone very close to him, was orchestrating everything. My gut told me Tom was probably "the boss," but I couldn't move on just a hunch. I needed concrete proof to bring down the whole ring, not just one player.
I waited until the men dispersed before making my way back to the car. There was no question about it—I had to tell Heather. Keeping her in the dark wasn’t just unfair; it was dangerous. She needed to be aware of the threat so she could protect herself.
The drive to the ranch felt longer than usual. My thoughts swirled with the details of the investigation, the threats against Heather, and the undeniable tension that had built between us. As I pulled into the driveway, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.
Heather met me at the door. "What’s going on?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with anxiety.
"We need to talk," I said, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. "There’s a lot you need to know."
We settled in the living room, and I recounted everything I had learned. Heather listened intently, her eyes widening as I described the meeting I had overheard. When I mentioned Tom’s involvement and the point guy at the ranch, she tensed, clearly troubled by the implications.
"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You’ve been keeping this from me while I’ve been trying to keep things together here."
"I’m sorry," I said, feeling the weight of my decisions. "I thought I was protecting you by keeping my distance. I was wrong."
She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Finally, she sighed and nodded. "Just don’t shut me out again. We’re in this together."
"Agreed," I said, relief washing over me. "And there’s something else…"
Before I could finish my sentence, she moved closer, her lips capturing mine in a desperate kiss. The passion between us ignited like wildfire, and all the tension and fear melted away in that moment of connection.
We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding clothes and inhibitions along the way. The need to be close to her, to feel her skin against mine, was overwhelming. As we tumbled onto the bed, our bodies intertwined, the world outside ceased to exist.
Our movements were frantic and driven by a deep-seated need for each other. Her hands roamed over my back, nails digging in as she pulled me closer. My lips traced a path down her neck, savoring the taste of her skin as I removed her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. The moans that escaped her lips fueled my desire.
"I’ve missed you," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear.
