Page 21 of Shadow Justice

Now she stared at Sanctuary as if the building had betrayed her by becoming vulnerable.

Reid kept his attention on the street even though he wanted to study her from head to toe. He checked the parked cars, the delivery entrance beside the bakery, the reflection in the pharmacy window, the man crossing the street under a black umbrella. Nothing jumped out. Nothing felt wrong.

That was the trouble with a careful predator. The world looked normal until it didn’t.

Blue tugged toward the shop, done with drizzle, conversation, and whatever human tension kept slowing the walk. Holly let the leash slide an inch through her fingers, then looked at Reid. “You’re not sure.”

“No.”

Her mouth tightened. “Points for honesty, I guess.”

Reid had done enough pushing for one day, so he let it go. The fact that she’d agreed to the cover story, agreed to let him work in her shop, and agreed—however grudgingly—to let him stay near her apartment tonight said less about trust than it did about Holly’s priorities. She was angry with him, hurt by him, and still willing to endure his presence if it meant protecting her shop.

That told him more about the woman she’d become than any file could have.

The light changed, and Reid moved first, stepping off the curb to put himself between Holly and the slow roll of traffic.

“You’re going to do that all the time, aren’t you?” she asked as they crossed.

“Do what?”

“Shield me from anything with wheels, sharp edges, or suspicious intentions.”

“Yes.”

She glanced at him, and the smallest curve touched her mouth before she looked away. It wasn’t a smile exactly, but he’d take it. He had no right to expect warmth from her, not after the way he’d left, not after being dropped into her life with a federal cover story and a plan that required her to lie to the people she loved.

They reached the patio gate, and Blue shook hard enough to fling mist across Reid’s pants.

“Blue,” Holly said. “Manners.”

The dog looked pleased with himself.

Inside, Sanctuary smelled of coffee, melted cheese, and the soup’s faint herbal note. Holly unclipped Blue near the private stairwell, murmured something to him about being a civilized citizen, then led him upstairs. Reid watched the landing until the apartment door closed behind them and then went to the camera feed on the counter tablet, which showed Blue trotting straight to his water bowl.

Maya leaned over the tablet from the other side of the counter. “He’s dramatic when he drinks. Like he’s been crossing a desert instead of walking three blocks.”

“Cattle dog,” Reid said. “Everything’s a mission.”

Maya gave him an assessing look, less wide-eyed now than she’d been earlier. “You sound like Roni.”

He gave her an easy grin. His sister was one of a kind. “Not sure that’s a compliment.”

She chuckled and picked up a towel. “FYI, Holly’s protective of the espresso machine and her customers. And the plants on the patio. Also the mugs that don’t match but somehow have emotional value.”

“I noticed.”

Maya’s tone softened beneath the teasing. “She built this place from nothing. She acts like she’s practical about it, but she loves every table, every chair.”

Reid moved to glance toward the stairwell again. “I’m getting that.”

The apartment door opened above, and he heard Holly’s footsteps coming down. When she reappeared, her hair had been twisted back and secured at the nape of her neck.

“You need to eat,” he said before he could stop himself.

Her eyes landed on him. “You need to learn where we keep extra napkins.”

Maya made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh and disappeared into the kitchen.