Harley folded her arms. “No problem. I am all about the job here. And I can play nicely. Besides, I’ve been tracking these guys for years. I’ll get him.”
And of course, Jericho looked at her, not a little alarm in his eyes. “Seriously?”
“Calm down, Jer.”
“Harley, these guys—”
“Down, boy,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s not a hobby. I do some PI work for the state prosecutor. The Sorros family’s been dealing drugs, trafficking humans, and leaving dead bodies in their wake. The prosecutor wants Mars, and we’ve spent years learning their behaviors—where they hide, how they move. I know them better than most.” She paused, her voice dropping. “For reasons.”
His eyes narrowed, and it felt sort of like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
Oddly, he set his hand on the dog’s fur, ran his fingers across his head.
“What’s the dog’s name?” she asked.
“Orlando.”
“As in Bloom?”
“As in a high German name that means famed throughout the land, and a heroic knight in an epic French poem.”
She rolled her eyes. Turned back to Deke. “So, what, we search each camp? Won’t he run?”
“If he does, Orlando can track him,” Jericho said.
“For serious, I know these guys. We need a small army.”
Deke held up his hand. “Take a breath, Harley. We have you, me, my deputy Crew, a local FBI guy named Rio, who’s invested, and Jericho here.”
“We’re going to die.”
“Hey,” Jericho said, “I’m not just along for the ride. I did two tours in Afghanistan in combat SAR.”
She pressed her hands to her face, shook her head.
“No one will get hurt,” Deke said. “We’ll run a drone, the dog will track, and if we can’t move in, we can call for backup. We just need to find him.”
She lowered her hands. “Great. Do you have a copy of the map?”
“Yes,” Deke said. “And I think we should start here.” He pointed to a camp north of town, deep in the woods, a narrow road leading back to it. “It’s near the old Boy Scout camp, and has communications as well as access in and out, even in winter.”
“I’ll work up a search grid,” Jericho said.
“Who put you in charge?” Shoot, she wanted to slap her hand over her mouth.C’mon,HT,don’t live up to your name!He just had this way of...
“I’m the guy with the dog,” he said. Then he crouched and patted Orlando’s head, his fingers scratching behind his ears.
She couldn’t take her eyes off his hands, his gentleness with the animal—
“He’s not in charge, Harley. I am,” Deke said.
Harley dragged her attention back to Deke. “Sorry. Of course. I just ... don’t want him to get away. Again.”
The door opened with a knock, and a man stuck his head in. He wore a deputy jacket and Harley recognized him from the pickup with Topher.
“Hey, Crew. C’mon in,” Deke said.
Crew was fit and came in with a hint of confidence, even as his gaze landed on the map. He drew in a breath. “I had sort of hoped we were done with the Sons of Revolution.”