“And I’m eyes,” I say.
“Not today,” Arrow shoots back. “Ozzy, you have Salem with you. You are not turning this into a cowboy mission.”
A small smile tugs at my mouth despite myself. “It’s not cowboy. I don’t own cowboy boots.”
“Ha ha.” Arrow’s voice goes flat. “Don’t joke.”
I glance toward the hallway. Salem appears, hair messy, wearing one of my shirts. It hangs to mid-thigh on her and makes something possessive flare in my chest. She rubs sleep from her eyes and pauses when she sees my face.
I lift a finger. One second.
Her gaze narrows like she hates being left out. I nod, and put the phone on speaker, holding it between us.
Arrow keeps talking. “There’s chatter that someone important passed through that warehouse last night. We don’t know who. We don’t know if it’s a trap. We don’t know if they already cleared out.”
My grip tightens on the phone. “Then waiting is stupid.”
“Ozzy.” Arrow’s tone sharpens. “You are not going.”
I stare at Salem, at the way she’s watching me like she already knows I’m about to do something reckless. She knows me too well.
I lower my voice. “I’m the closest. I can check it and be back before your team hits the highway.”
“You can get killed before they hit the highway,” Arrow snaps. “Or Salem can. Use your head.”
My jaw clenches. I should listen. I know I should. But the thought of Arthur Charles’s name sitting in my brain like a loose wire makes me itch. Salem said it last night with this strange mix of anger and hope and confusion. If her father is missing, the only thing that makes sense is that he got too close.
The warehouse could be nothing. Or it could be the first real thread.
I don’t say any of that to Arrow. I just say, “I’ll call you back.”
Arrow’s voice goes harder. “Ozzy, do not hang up.”
I hang up. The line goes dead. Silence hits me in the chest like a shove.
Salem steps closer, eyes scanning my face. “What do you think?”
I love how she gets me. She wants to go there as badly as I do. I pour her a cup of coffee and slide it over to her. “We shouldn’t.”
She lifts the mug to her lips with two hands. “We?”
“Well,” I pause. I should tell her to stay. I should keep her here, tucked away in the warm safehouse where the only danger is reality. But Salem is not the kind of girl who stays tucked. Not anymore. And she’s already in this. She’s already carrying the truth of her mother and Carl and her missing father like it’s a backpack full of bricks. If I leave her behind, she’ll sit here and spiral until she breaks. If I bring her, I can keep my eyes on her. “Maybe just me.”
Salem sets the mug down carefully. “No, I’m coming.”
“No,” I say automatically.
Her eyes flash. “Yes.”
“Salem, it could be a trap.”
“It could be a clue,” she shoots back.
I scrub a hand over my face. “You don’t have training.”
She points at herself. “I survived being kidnapped. I’m training in real time.” That hits hard.
I exhale slowly. “You stay in the car.”