I hold my breath as I inch closer. Why didn’t I change clothes after I was done trying things on? I know why—I like this dress, so I left it on. It makes me feel fun and carefree, which I need in my life right now.
When I get close enough, Mace pulls me in front of him, flattening my back to his front with an arm over my shoulder and a palm between my breasts, anchoring me to him. He points toward the darker-haired man. “Autumn, this is Tank.” His finger shifts to the other man. “And Ghost.”
At some point, I need to ask Mace where everyone’s nickname comes from. I’m aware of the fact that people in the military often have unusual nicknames for a variety of reasons. I know the jargon. After all, my father was in the Army. But I haven’t asked Mace why he’s called that yet.
Finding my words, I respond, “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, Little one,” Ghost says.
Tank nods, his eyes crinkling with his smile.
I glance at Mace. “Where does your nickname come from?”
Tank smirks. “He’s a time traveler. He used to kill bad guys for sport with a heavy iron mace in the Middle Ages.”
I giggle.
Mace groans. “Nothing quite that interesting. Sorry, sweetheart. The truth is, I threw the shot put in high school. The guys thought I looked like I was wielding a mace, and the moniker stuck even years later.”
“Huh, I think you should go with the Middle Age vigilante story.”
Mace chuckles as he pats my chest and looks up at Ghost and Tank again. “I assume you’re here to tell me something about the investigation?”
Both men sober as they shift their attention from me to Mace.
Ghost runs a hand over his head and sighs. “Yes.” He glances at me.
I stiffen. They better not think they’re going to ban me from the room while they discuss my father’s murder.
“You’re not going to like it,” Tank adds, his voice clipped.
“I don’t like a single detail about Burke’s death. Not sure how it could get any worse.”
“Oh, but it can.” Ghost winces. His hand slides from his head to run down his face. “Look, I’ll be honest. If Autumn were my girl and the shoe were on the other foot, I would want to hear this without her and then fill her in carefully. But I also suspect any Little girl of mine would have a backbone and stomp her foot if I tried to coddle her like that.”
I twist my head to look up at Mace. “Don’t you dare discuss my father’s killer behind my back.”
His expression is tight, his jaw clenched, as he looks from me back to Ghost.
“He’s right,” Tank adds. “It’s not pretty.”
I put my hands on my hips and stand as tall as I can. “I’m not an actual child,” I argue. “I’m an adult. I don’t want you to sugarcoat this ugly situation. Nor do I want you to send me away and give me a summary later.”
Mace sighs. “My office?”
Both men nod.
Mace takes my hand and leads me across the room. Thank goodness he hasn’t decided to lock me in a closet or something because that’s what he would have had to do in order to keep me from listening to this information.
His office is large, and there are plenty of places to sit. He drops onto his main desk chair and pulls me between his legs while Ghost and Tank drag two other chairs over to the bank of monitors.
Ghost is holding a laptop, and he sets it on the desk before reaching for a cord that connects it to one of the large monitors. I know this because his home screen pops up in front of me.
Instead of opening anything, he leans back and crosses his arms. His gaze shifts back and forth between me and Mace. I feel like he’s still pondering his options, or at least how he’s going to deliver whatever he has to say. Eventually, he drops his arms, palms his mouse, and clicks a file on the home screen.
A man pops up, and I gasp, confused.
“I take it you know who this is?” Tank asks.