Page 10 of Shadow Justice

“It’s just a statement, not a threat.”

The bell over the front door chimed.

She lunged for the doorway, eager to get away from this conversation.

For one heartbeat, all she saw was the rain-bright glass and the wet sidewalk beyond it. Then the man standing just inside Sanctuary Coffee turned his head, and the past she’d spent years folding into manageable pieces unfolded all at once.

Reid Fleming had filled out in the eight years since she’d last seen him. He was tall enough to make her feel small in a way she’d once secretly loved. His dark hair was shorter than it had been the night before he left, and a faint scruff shadowed his jaw, softening nothing. He wore a dark jacket over a charcoal shirt, rain clinging to the fabric, his expression controlled in that infuriating Fleming way that made calm look like a legal strategy.

His dark, steady eyes found hers. “Hello, Holly,” he said.

Holly stopped breathing.

CHAPTER TWO

Reid had prepared himself to see Holly again. He’d reviewed the case file twice, listened to Claire outline the FBI’s working theory, asked the questions that needed asking, and accepted the assignment with the professionalism that had carried him through years in the Navy and more legal proceedings than he cared to count.

He’d known Holly would be upset, and she’d probably resist. He’d known walking into Sanctuary Coffee as her assigned protection would be complicated in every possible way.

He hadn’t prepared himself for the simple force of her standing ten feet away, looking at him as if he had no right to exist in the doorway of the life she’d built without him.

All the facts he’d locked neatly into place scattered. He saw the pale shock on her face, the long sweep of dark blonde hair over one shoulder, the apron tied at her waist, the hand braced against the edge of the counter as if the floor was shifting under her.

She straightened, her spine going stiff. That simple movement made him feel the years between them more sharply than he wanted to.

The shop around her was warm and quiet. Mismatched chairs sat tucked beneath scarred wooden tables. Rain blurred the front windows. A chalkboard sign advertised soup, scones, and something called a lavender fog latte that sounded like Roni had named it under protest.

The place looked exactly like something Holly would make if given enough stubbornness, not enough money, and a dream she refused to give up on.

He wanted to stand there and soak her in, to apologize for all the unsaid words between them. He also wanted to turn around and leave before he made everything worse.

Instead, he kept his expression neutral because Claire Dawson and Emmet Cahors were waiting for him, and two people were dead.

“Hello, Holly,” he said.

For one suspended second, she didn’t answer. Then her face morphed into disbelief. “No,” she said. “I don’t need you.”

Reid had expected that, but the words still landed where old guilt lived.

Claire stepped forward from behind her. “Ms. Bristol, we should continue this conversation in your office.”

Holly’s brows drew together. “You can’t be serious.”

“If someone is watching the shop,” Reid said, crossing the space to the counter, “we don’t want this discussion happening in front of the windows.”

Holly put her hands on her hips. “There’s no one here.”

“The street isn’t empty,” Emmet said, standing in a doorway down the hall.

Holly looked toward the rain-streaked glass. The sidewalk beyond it held no obvious threat, only wet pavement, a parked delivery truck, and traffic moving slowly through downtown Blackridge.

Reid watched her take that in, watched her mind fight against what he knew she’d already been told. It was one thing to hear that her shop had been connected to violence. It was another to imagine someone outside, watching her reaction as if fear were another item on the menu.

She folded her arms. “This is my shop. I’m not being ordered around.”

Reid kept his voice low. “No one’s ordering you.”

Her eyes flashed to his. “Really? Because it sure feels like I’m no longer in charge.”