Marcus’s gaze flicked to me, assessing. “The kind that explains why he didn’t walk away from whatever he got into. And why someone made sure he couldn’t talk.”
The air shifted. Luke went still beside him. “Motive.”
“Yeah,” Marcus confirmed quietly. “Motive.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. “Does it name who?”
Marcus hesitated. “It points,” he answered carefully. “Not clean enough to hand over yet. But close.”
Luke’s jaw flexed. “Close to who?”
Marcus met his gaze. “Close enough to your world that I’m not saying another word until I go through everything.” Silence slammed into the room. “I need to take all this. Go through it and make sure nothing in here circles back to you.”
Luke didn’t argue, but he didn’t let it go either. “Mila’s mom is working with the feds. Should we give it to him?”
Marcus’s attention snapped to me. “Who?”
“Nick Jacobson.”
Recognition hit instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “I know him. He’s good people. After I go through everything, I’ll make sure he gets it.”
We gathered the documents without another word, movements quick now, efficient. Marcus lowered the door, metal screeching again, then locked it.
The sound felt final. My lungs finally caught up to the reality of what we had done. I turned away from the rows of storage doors and stumbled toward the lot.
Marcus walked toward his sedan without hurry, Luke in his wake. The two of them stopping near the SUV, keeping their voices low. I couldn’t hear the words, only the cadence—measured, deliberate. Then they put everything in the trunk.
Marcus gave a single nod before getting into his car. Luke watched him pull out of the lot before turning back to me. He crossed the distance without hesitation and opened my door.
I dropped into the driver’s seat. He rested one hand on the top of the door frame, leaning in slightly.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” I answered. “But I will be.”
That earned the faintest shift in his expression. “Good,” he replied. “We’re in this together.”
The reason Mom and I had left Blackwood—Darren lying behind King Enterprises, eyes sightless, blood pooling around him—haunted me. My hands gripped the steering wheel hard. “He knew he was in danger. He should’ve left or, I don’t know, done something to stay safe.”
“Yes.”
I looked up at him. “What if we’re wrong about all of it?”
“Then we adjust,” he answered without hesitation. “We don’t guess. We get proof about who’s behind his death, and what, if anything, he had on Dunn.”
I studied his face. What he left out was anything Darren had on King Enterprises.
“I’m not keeping you in the dark,” he continued. “Not about this. Not about anything.”
That meant more than us finding the storage unit or the notebook.
He reached in, brushing his thumb lightly over my knuckles where they gripped the wheel. “I’ll be right behind you.”
I exhaled slowly. “Drive safe.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “You too.”
He stepped back, closed my door gently, and walked around to his SUV. As I started the engine, I checked my mirrors out of habit.