So yeah, he meant his words. He was in this.
He just prayed she believed him.
Just prayed she wasn’t back at her campsite, loading her gear. Maybe he should have made her stay with him…
What, like a puppy? She had work to do—the kind of work that meant tracking down whoever was after her. So after Meg stitched her up, he’d taken Nimue back to her bus.
And left his heart there with her as he clocked in for work.
So here he sat, fighting the urge to sprint back to her, duty chaining him to this chair. He could tell Noah the truth—his boss might understand—but every person dragged into this mess became another target. His jaw clenched. The pencil in his grip snapped.
He stared at the broken pieces, hands shaking.
This wasn’t just about her leaving. Someone wanted to hurt her. The idea sent a surge of anger through him, his pulse hammering in his ears—hello, what wasthatabout? She wasn’t his to protect—not officially—but every instinct screamed otherwise.
He tried to focus again on the teen file that lay open before him. Then he glanced at a few shots he’d taken of the destroyed bus—emptied drawers, shoe prints they’d found in the walkway, her shattered monitor. His gut screamed the kids were responsible, especially with that high-end beer can left behind like a signature in the mystery package. Their calling card, taunting him. But connecting them legally?
He sighed.
Noah appeared in the doorway, papers clutched in one hand, brow furrowed. “This damage report lists thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff. You really think teenagers did this?”
Liam’s throat constricted. Did he? Maybe. But voicing his suspicion about the Russian mob without proof meant potentially putting Noah in the crosshairs.
“Who else?” His voice came out flat, unconvincing. He needed acting lessons.
Noah’s gaze sharpened, reading between the lines. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Before Liam could fumble for an answer, Eden appeared beside Noah. “Line three’s holding. One of those parents you’ve been chasing.” She gestured toward the desk phone’s blinking green light. “Want to take it, Henry Cavill? Or should Sasquatch handle it?”
Eden looked between them expectantly, as if they’d automatically decode her latest nickname system.
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “Sasquatch? Seriously?”
She rolled her eyes with dramatic flair. “Trust me, mountain-man, it’s getting that bad. You are basically a hairorist. Clean up and ask Meg out before someone else swoops in. Eddie was practically drooling over her at lunch yesterday.”
Noah’s expression darkened, but Liam lunged for the phone. “I’ll take it.”
Noah pointed toward the speaker button.
Liam jabbed the button. “This is Liam.”
“Dan Carter here. Jason’s dad.” The voice sounded gruff and tired. “Look, I don’t have details, but Jason was mixed up in something yesterday with those other boys. Missed curfew. Came home acting cagey. I grounded him, but that’s all I’ve got.”
The knot in Liam’s chest loosened slightly. Unruly teenagers he could handle. He lifted one of the muddy shoe-print photos from Nim’s camper. “Any chance you could send pictures of Jason’s shoe treads? Long shot, but might help connect some dots.”
“Give me a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Dan. If you find out more, call me.”
The line went dead. Liam met Noah’s gaze. “I need to see Nimue. Tell her it’s just kids, not…anything else.”
Noah studied him, his expression unreadable, and Liam’s stomach clenched. He knew he should stay, compare evidence, do his job. But the thought of Nimue loading her bus right now, disappearing forever?—
Stop panicking.
Still, his hands balled into fists.
“It’s important.” His voice dropped, nearly pleading.