Page 28 of Crossfire Creek Siege

“You earned it last night,” Noah went on. “You kept your heads when it mattered most.”

“Or got lucky,” Gage muttered.

“Luck’s just preparation meeting timing,” Noah countered, the faintest smirk touching his mouth before it vanished again. “Grab your gear. You’re coming with me to the sheriff’s office to observe the interviews.”

“Observation only?” Rena asked.

Noah nodded. “I want eyes I trust in that observation room. Sheriff Chase will do the questioning solo, but I want to see how each one reacts when they realize we’re all still breathing.”

He turned to the rest of the room, to Ruby, Owen, Isla, Cal, and Garrett. “While we’re gone, dig into the logistics. I want to know how any of these three could have arranged the assault. Funding, personnel, transport, tech. Follow the trail and find me the thread that ties them together.”

“On it,” Ruby said immediately. Owen murmured the same.

Noah faced Gage and Rena again. “We leave in ten.”

Gage drained the last of his coffee, the caffeine barely keeping pace with the adrenaline still simmering under his skin. He set his cup aside, met Rena’s gaze again and saw that some of her fatigue was no longer showing. It was probably still there, but it was a mental boost to know they’d soon be coming face to face with the asshole who’d tried to murder a whole hangar of people.

The heat hit him the second they stepped outside. Texas summer, barely dawn, and it already felt like someone had cranked the oven on high. The sky was streaked orange and gold, the compound still half-shadowed, the air thick with humidity and the faint burnt-metal smell from last night’s fires.

Sheriff Chase strode ahead, her hand resting on her sidearm as she headed for her cruiser. Noah fell in beside her. They climbed in, the cruiser’s lights flickering once before the engine turned over.

Gage and Rena crossed to one of the Crossfire Ops SUVs parked nearby. The black vehicle gleamed in the early light, dust still crusted around the tires from the chaos of the night before. Gage slid into the driver’s seat, the leather hot even through his pants. Rena climbed in on the passenger side, wincing slightly as she adjusted her injured arm.

He started the engine and glanced over at her. “You hurting?”

“Yeah.” She shifted her arm a little, flexing her fingers. “But it’s manageable. It won’t affect what we’re doing.” Then, after a beat, she added, “You?”

Gage gave a rough laugh and adjusted his grip on the wheel, his shoulder protesting even that small movement. “Yeah. Hurts like hell. But it’s not stopping me either. Right now, we’ve got a bastard to catch.”

He pressed his foot to the accelerator, the SUV roaring to life as they followed Chase and Noah down the long, sun-scorched road that led out of the compound gates and toward Crossfire Creek. The drive into town was short but scenic, the kind of view that might’ve been peaceful if Gage’s nerves weren’t still wired tight. The road wound through the Texas Hill Country, rolling green hills baked gold by early sun, patches of cedar and mesquite breaking up the horizon, and the shimmer of heat already starting to rise off the asphalt.

Crossfire Creek came into view like a postcard that’d seen some rough handling. A small, tight-knit town. Brick storefronts with sun-faded awnings, a diner that looked as if it hadn’t changed since the sixties, and an old courthouse square that locals probably used for everything from parades to gossip.

The sheriff’s office sat on the corner opposite a feed store, the limestone exterior gleaming pale in the morning light. Noah and Sheriff Chase climbed out first, exchanging a few low words before heading inside. Gage and Rena followed a few steps behind, both scanning automatically, instincts too honed to switch off.

Inside, the air-conditioning hit hard, along with the smell of coffee and disinfectant. Desks cluttered with paperwork, maps tacked to walls, a few tired-looking deputies hunched over keyboards.

And then Gage saw her.

Dr. Corrine Astor.

She stood near the far end of the bullpen, flanked by a man in a tailored gray suit who screamed high-priced legal counsel. Corrine didn’t look like a fugitive or a woman cornered. She looked composed, collected, with her dark hair swept into a sleek style. Her expression was calm, almost smug, as if this was just another interview on one of her old talk shows.

She wore confidence like armor. And beneath it, Gage thought he saw the faintest trace of satisfaction, like she already knew she’d gotten under Noah’s skin just by showing up.

Yeah. This was going to be one hell of a morning.

Corrine noticed them within seconds after they stepped inside. Her gaze swept over Gage and Rena like a scanner, sharp, calculating, and then landed on the Crossfire Ops patches stitched to their T-shirts. A slow smile curved her perfectly painted mouth.

“Well,” she said, gliding toward them like she was walking onto a stage. “I see Crossfire Ops’ finest have arrived.”

Her voice was smooth, professional, with just enough warmth to sound disarming. She extended her hand first to Rena. “Dr. Corrine Astor.”

“Rena Calloway,” Rena replied, shaking her hand but not offering a smile.

Then Corrine turned to Gage, her perfume light and expensive as she clasped his hand briefly. “And you must be Gage Kellan. Pararescue, if I remember correctly?”

The fact that she did remember set off alarms in Gage’s head. He gave a curt nod. “That’s right.”