By the time we finish eating, the sun has set completely, and the fairgrounds are transformed by thousands of twinkling lights. In another circumstance, it might be magical. Tonight, the shadows between those lights seem deeper, more threatening.
"The gun is what worries me most," I admit. "Dylan's always been about control, but that's escalation."
Tank nods. "Where does he live?"
"About fifteen minutes from here," Lilly answers. "One of his father's properties, a condo development on the lake."
"And his daily routine?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Gathering intel?"
Tank's expression doesn't change. "Information is always useful."
Before I can respond, fireworks explode overhead, the first test shots before the main show. The boom resonates in my chest,and I notice how both Tank and Lilly tense at the sound, though likely for different reasons.
"Speaking of useful information," I say, "the fireworks mean it's almost nine. They'll be starting the main show in about twenty minutes, down by the lake."
"Dylan mentioned the fireworks specifically," Lilly says nervously. "Should we leave?"
I glance at Tank, curious about his assessment.
"No," he says finally. "We stay. But we watch the fireworks from somewhere with clear sight lines and multiple exits."
"I know just the place," I offer. "The hill by the 4-H building. We can see everything from there, and there's a service road behind it if we need to leave quickly."
Tank's eyes lock with mine again, and this time there's something beyond tactical appreciation in them. Something that makes my pulse quicken in a way that has nothing to do with the possible danger.
"Smart thinking," is all he says, but the weight of his gaze carries more.
As we stand to leave, I catch movement in my peripheral vision. Dylan, standing near the Ferris wheel, watching us. He doesn't try to hide this time, just stares openly, his face illuminated by another burst of test fireworks.
Tank notices my distraction and follows my gaze. His body shifts, angling between us and Dylan.
"He's not going to give up easily," I say quietly.
"Neither am I," Tank responds, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear.
And as we make our way toward the hill, I realize I'm caught between two immovable forces. Dylan's obsession and Tank's protection. One fills me with dread, the other with something dangerously close to hope.
The night is far from over, and as another firework explodes overhead, I can't shake the feeling that it's not the only thing about to ignite at the Sweetheart County Fair.
Chapter 3 - Tank
The hill by the 4-H building is exactly what we need.
Elevated ground with clear visibility in all directions. Strategic. As we settle onto the grassy slope, I position myself slightly behind Lilly and Katty, giving me a full view of the fairgrounds below while keeping them both in my peripheral vision.
Another test firework bursts overhead, illuminating the fairgrounds in flashes of blue and silver. In those brief moments of clarity, I scan the crowds, looking for Dylan. He's down there somewhere, watching, waiting. Like a jackal circling a campfire.
"You want some?" Katty offers, holding out a bag of kettle corn she bought on our way up the hill.
I take a handful. "Thanks."
As she settles back down, I can't help but look at her in the intermittent light. There's something about her that doesn't fit the small-town best friend mold. She carries herself with a quiet confidence I've rarely seen outside the club or the military—people who've faced real danger and come through it.
Either she's one hell of an actress, or she's genuinely as strong as she appears. I'm betting on the latter, and it's more appealing than it should be.
"You're staring," she says without looking at me, a small smile playing in the corner of her mouth.
