Page 10 of On Fire

“What do you mean?”

“I get threats all the time.”

“You never told me that. You only talk about who’s sleeping with who and who hates who.”

He shrugs. “It happens a lot. Twitter, TikTok, Reddit, though not so bad there. But you know—social media sucks. I need it for the biz, but I hate it.”

“And you’re sure no one has it out personally for you?” This question is within earshot of Finn.

Instead, Finn answers, his face set. “This is definitely a hate crime.”

I try to control the shiver that zips down my spine. Something’s changed. The quiver up by his temple, his stance of aggression with feet more than shoulder width apart—and he won’t look at me—all means he has new information and it’s not good. I finger a button on my shirt.

“Nic. Call Bryce back. Now,” he says and his are dark. Bryce Tucker and Mateus Gutierrez who work for us are both former SEALs and highly trained medics and explosives experts.

I check my phone. It’s got five call attempts from Bryce. I leave Henry to talk with Finn and Jamal and try to find a quieter place to talk. I cross the street, pressing the phone to my ear. Bryce picks up in a second.

“How’s Jackson?”

“He’s shaken up, but he’ll be fine. Some hearing loss in his right ear, but I assume it’s temporary.”

“And this was around the corner from you?”

“Yeah. Three blocks.”

“Shit.” There’s silence for a moment before he starts again. “There were two more bombings.”

Ice water flashes through my veins and I’m almost lightheaded. “What?”

“Yeah. In Portland. Both gay bars. Both went off at one fifty this morning. These three were all timed, Nic. Synchronized.”

It’s like I’m swallowing crumpled balls of dried paper. My mouth goes dry. This was the reason for Finn’s grim face—he already knew. “So, this is a hate crime.”

“Fuck yeah. There’s a nut job out there, some asshole, some homophobic terrorist who’s decided three gay bars needed to go. FBI and ATF are already at both scenes. I bet there’s already suits at your site too.”

Need to go. I’ve heard those words too many times. From parents, friends, lovers.

“Finn says this makes it not personal. Your friend there wasn’t being targeted, so that’s the good news.”

Except he is. It’s oddly very personal. Just not specific to Henry.

I control my voice. “Any fatalities?”

“Yeah. Nine. Three at Boyz and six at Oceanside. More than twenty injured.”

It takes me a minute to process.

“Nic, the youngest was sixteen.”

“You’ve talked to Finn already.” I want confirmation.

“I texted him about it and he said I should call you.”

This is Finn’s way to make sure I’m engaged. We were in the Army together, in Afghanistan and then trained with the FBI as profilers. We’ve seen a lot and he understands me well enough to know there are only a handful of places I might sink under pressure.

This is one of them and he’s making damn sure I stay engaged.

Clearing my throat, I continue with, “Thanks for the heads up. Does Carlson know?” We’ve teamed with Jack Carlson and the Rockland Police Department before. He’s a close ally.