Page 28 of Shared By the Mountain Men Triplets

Wren looks at us over the rim of her mug with suspicion in her eyes. She knows we’refull of shit.

When she’s halfway through her breakfast, her phone rings. She looks at the screen, and her face goes serious. “It’s my supervisor.” She stands to take the call, walks slowly over toward the other side of the room, and paces by the fireplace.

Rhett and I can’t help but overhear her end of the conversation, especially when she asks, “What kind of compounds?”

After a long pause, she says, “Consistent with narcotics packaging or processing residue,” as if she’s repeating it back.

Rhett’s jaw locks, and I stop breathing for a second. It’s not a surprise at this point, but the confirmation still hits hard.

Wren’s free hand curls at her side. “I understand. … No, I’m at a secure location.”

Secure location.Our cabin. A flash of possessiveness moves through me, and it feels satisfying.

Cade comes in and immediately spots Wren on the call. His eyes take in her bare legs next.

“Yes,” she says into the phone. “I’ll stay put. No additional fieldwork without coordination.”

Damn right.

Her supervisor says something else, and Wren’s shoulders stiffen.

“I know,” she says. “I will.”

She ends the call and stands still for a moment, looking out the front window.

Outside, a jay screams like something being murdered, but none of us moves until Wren turns around.

“The preliminary lab screen came back positive for narcotics residue. My supervisor is contacting the DEA field office immediately.”

Rhett nods slowly. “That changes things.”

“It changes the jurisdiction,” she says.

I keep my voice gentle even though I feel like breaking something. “You okay, Wren?”

She lifts her chin. “Yes.”

It’s a lie, but I’m not going to call her on it.

Later in the day, when Wren’s out on the back porch, working on her laptop, Rhett sits at his computer, making phone calls to clients.

He reschedules the first one with the calm, level voice of a man who could tell someone their truck was on fire and make it sound like an inconvenience rather than a crisis.

The next call lasts longer.

“Yes, ma’am. I understand.” After a pause, “No, safety is the issue.” Another pause. “We’ll refund the deposit or apply it to a later date. Your choice.”

When the call ends, he crosses out the date in his notebook, then looks over at me, where I’m standingin the doorway.

“Everything okay?” It’s clearly not, but the question comes out before I think better of it.

Rhett stares back at me without answering.

“You’re doing the face,” I say.

“I only have one.”

“Not true. You have the command face, the disappointed big brother face, the someone-moved-my-tools face, and whatever this is.”