Page 42 of Flint’s Strike

Grace pulls out her phone, taps the screen a few times, and shows me a photo very obviously taken without Nate’s knowledge. “Had to peek…uh…” A crease deepens between her brows, and she sets the phone down so she can rub her temples. Aphasia from a traumatic brain injury followed by a craniotomy followed by a kidnapping followed by poisoning followed by an attempted ritual sacrifice steals her words when she’s tired or emotional. Or sometimes, for no reason at all. After a beat, she stops trying to work through the block and lifts her hands, signing, “Around corner. Knew you want see.”

Despite there being nothing wrong with Grace’s hearing, I sign back, “I need copy. For blackmail.”

Laughing eases the tightness around her eyes, and she texts me the photo.

“You…really okay?” Her words are still slow, but she’s not fighting for each one.

I want to tell her I’m as okay as I get these days. But she’d worry too much. Instead, I give her what I hope is a convincing smile. “Sore. Kicking myself. But okay. Really.”

The relief in her eyes tugs at my heart. She’s been through so much. Lost all her memories. AJ. Belle. Her own name. And she’s fought every damn day for months to regain the smallest scraps of her former life, all while building a new one on top of the ruins.

“Good. We should go. AJ made…” Again, she loses the word, and signs, “reservation.”

“Get out of here. Have fun.”

We both stand, though I’m a little slower, and Grace wraps me in a gentle embrace. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” I whisper.

It’s not until she takes a hold of Belle’s harness that an idea pops into my head. “I’ll send a message to the group chat to clear it with Emi and Isabel too, but would you be okay with moving girls’ night to Friday this week?”

She narrows her eyes. “Yes. But why?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “I’ll tell you on Friday.”

A small smile curves her lips. “Okay. But you know Emi’s gonna go all ‘investigative reporter’ on you.”

Giving Grace my sternest stare, I square my shoulders. “I’m a Ranger. I don’t break under interrogation. Only queso.”

Grace’s light laugh follows her from the room. Right past Eliot, who’s standing in the hall with a Dr. Pepper in his hand, looking straight at me.

Eliot

I give Chief Stone and his wife a nod. Grace is tucked against his side, one of the largest, happiest dogs I’ve ever seen trotting along next to her.

“Flint.” AJ holds out his hand, and we shake. “Thanks for taking care of Parker yesterday.”

“I should have checked that office myself first. Driving her to Urgent Care was the least I could do.”

The guilt has been eating me alive for more than twenty-four hours. She’ll be fine. Might not even have a scar, but that was pure luck. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.

AJ glances down at Grace. She straightens slightly, and the way his eyes light up…she just gave him the moon.

“You haven’t met my wife,” he says. Parker’s watching from the break room entrance, her intense gaze locked on me. “Grace, this is Eliot Flint with the Fire Marshal’s Office.”

“Ma’am. Good to meet you.” Grace’s body language is enough to warn me offering my hand might not be the best idea.

“You too.” The soft words are friendly enough, but she presses closer to her husband. I shift my attention to the dog staring up at me, tongue hanging out of its mouth. “Who’s this?”

Grace loosens the death grip she has on the leash. “Belle.”

I keep my fingers loose, moving only enough for Belle to sniff me. After a beat, she pushes her whole head against my hand.

“Well, that’s somethin’,” AJ says. “She ain’t always that friendly with men she doesn’t know.”

Parker takes a step closer, her gaze pinned to the dog who’s now pressing her whole body against my legs. “Guess she knows how much I miss the days my captain would bring his old basset hound to work. I got my ass handed to me more than once for sneakin’ that dog treats under the table.”

The memory twists something painful in my chest. The dog passed away while I was in the hospital, and I never even told Felton I was sorry.