He kept his arm around her as Garrett brought the vehicle around. Kept her close as Claire and Hendricks took statements.
He kept her close, and she let him, and the Montana sun climbed higher over the mountains. The morning—the terrible, impossible, beautiful morning—settled into something that felt, for the first time in two years, like peace.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The SPS compound was nothing like she'd expected.
Alyssa had imagined something military—concrete and razor wire, the kind of place that announced its purpose with every sharp angle.
Instead, it looked more like a modern campus for a tech company or school. It was set back from the road on forty acres of private land, facing the Bitterroot Range.
You wouldn't see the reinforced walls, the bulletproof glass. Mack had told her there were perimeter sensors buried beneath the gravel drive, which at the moment still had a lot of snow on it. The satellite array on the roof was disguised as a weathervane.
She’d officially met Garrett, Dr. Montgomery, and a dozen other operatives that went by codenames. Mack fit in here, and it was nice to see how all of them respected him.
It had been a full day since the rifle crack and the tarmac and Blake shoving them to the ground. Twenty-four hours since Mack had held her on the runway and said, “It's over.”
Yet, in her heart, it felt like time had bent again. Her life had changed overnight, just as it had after the party.
Alyssa sat in the compound's common room with a cup of coffee she hadn't touched and watched the last of the daylight fade behind the mountains. Her eyes were still irritated, and sometimes everything looked slightly soft at the edges, like a sketch done in charcoal instead of pencil. But her vision was improving, thanks to the drops the ER doctor had given her.
Mack was across the room, sitting in a leather chair with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He had four stitches on his temple, and his right arm was freshly bandaged. He’d been diagnosed with a mild concussion and told to rest, which Mack had acknowledged with a nod that meant I heard you, not I'll comply.
Thank goodness Dr. Montgomery and Garrett were forcing him to.
She watched him breathing in the chair and knew he wasn't sleeping. She could tell by the set of his jaw, the way his fingers rested on the arm of the chair—still, but not relaxed. He was listening. Tracking the sounds of the compound, the way he tracked every environment. But his body was finally, grudgingly, admitting that it had limits.
She looked at the ring on her left hand. The diamond caught the fading light. She'd put it on that morning, after Garrett and Claire had retrieved it from the half-burned apartment. She hadn't taken it off since.
Claire entered the common room, smiling at her but looking completely exhausted. “Hey, there.”
Mack opened his eyes. Sat up. The operative reassembled itself in seconds—alert, focused, ready.
Claire set her bag on the table and looked at both of them. "I have updates. Some of them are good."
Mack and Alyssa joined her at the table.”Blake is cooperating fully,” she said. “His testimony, combined with the evidence gathered during the joint FBI-DEA operation at the party, gives the task force enough to move against VidaCorp and Frontera Trade Solutions. Warrants have been executed on VidaCorp's offices in Missoula, Seattle, and San Diego. Mateo Vega had been arrested at his home in Scottsdale. Rafael Guerrero is the subject of an active manhunt.”
“Are they still after me?” Alyssa asked.
"Their Montana operation is collapsing," Claire said. "Vega's people are scrambling. The last thing they're going to do right now is pursue either of you when they're trying to avoid federal indictments."
“But the bounty?”
Claire glanced at Mack, back to Alyssa. "I can't tell you it's been officially rescinded—cartels don't issue press releases—but the operational reality is that targeting you now would bring a level of federal attention they can't afford. The threat level to you has dropped from active to monitored." She paused. "SPS will maintain a security detail for a period, if that’s suitable.”
Mack squeezed her shoulder. She understood what Claire was saying and what she wasn't. The danger wasn't gone, but it was diminished. She could live with that, as long as Mack was by her side.
"And Eric Edwards?" Mack asked.
“He’s in federal custody, charged with attempted murder, conspiracy, and weapons violations." Claire's expression shifted—something more complicated than professional satisfaction. "He's talking. Not about the cartel—about Morrison. He wants the truth on record."
Mack’s brows shot up. “He does?”
Alyssa gripped his hand gently. “We all want that.”
Claire turned back to her. "There's one more thing. Rob Thorne has been thoroughly investigated and cleared. He cooperated fully—opened his financial records, his communications, everything. He had no knowledge that VidaCorp was a cartel front or that Blake was using his events as cover for cartel meetings. He's been in contact with our office, asking about you." She paused. "He's devastated, Alyssa. He feels responsible."
"He's not." The words came out immediately, without calculation. "He tried to help Blake. He gave him a job. Blake used him."