Page 78 of How I Love You

Her words hit me hard. There was something in her tone—something that said she trusted me, even when everything was going sideways.

Adam’s fists were clenched, his stance wide, and Everett looked much the same. This was a family thing for them. They wanted to protect Dakota, wanted to make sure she was safe… but so did I.

“Look,” I said, staying calm but leaving no room for argument, “I’m not going to let anything happen to Dakota. Or Hope, since she’s involved, too. But this isn’t your fight. It’s mine.”

They stared at me, and I could feel the tension rising in the air. It took everything in me not to let my own frustration show. These guys were good men, protective of everyone they cared about, and I understood that instinct. I felt it every time I looked at Dakota. But this was different. This was personal, and I wasn’t about to let them get dragged into something dangerous because of me.

“This is my fault,” I said, locking eyes with each of them in turn. “That note came because of me. Because I couldn’t convince Dakota to stay away from this case, and because I couldn’t stay away fromher. And now someone’s trying to scare her, and I’m not going to let that stand. So please... back off, and let me make it right.”

They weren’t happy about it, considering Everett was grinding his teeth so hard I thought he might break a molar. But after a long, tense silence, they finally stepped back.

“Fine,” Adam said tightly. “But if you need backup?—”

“I’ll call,” I promised.

Dakota’s hand found mine, and I gave it a squeeze, my chest tightening. Because as much as I wanted to stay calm, to handlethis like I’d handle any other case, the truth was, this wasn’t any other case.

This was Dakota, and even if I wasn’t willing to admit it out loud, I was pretty sure the impossible had happened. In the last few short weeks… I’d fallen in love with her.

And I’d take another bullet in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her safe.

I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the festival crowd, my pulse thrumming with a mixture of unease and adrenaline. The brothers were still nearby, watching over everything like a wall of muscle and silent judgment, but I didn’t have time to worry about them. My focus was on Dakota—and getting her out of here.

But then, through the crowd, I caught a glimpse of someone familiar slipping through the dirt parking lot, moving fast like they didn’t want to be seen.

Barto?

My gut tightened, suspicion flaring. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be long gone. My grip on Dakota’s hand tightened, my eyes narrowing as I watched his retreating figure, slinking away like he was trying to escape unnoticed.

Not happening.

“Stay here,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

“What— Tucker, wait?—”

But I didn’t give her time to argue or ask questions. I was already moving, weaving through the crowd, closing the distance between me and Barto as quickly and quietly as I could. My heart pounded against my ribs as I caught up with him, grabbing his pudgy shoulder just as he was about to slip around the side of a parked truck.

He jerked, spinning to face me, and the second our eyes met, I saw it—the fear.

Good.

But then… I saw something else that was so unexpected it stole my words for a second.

I’d only had a couple of meetings in person with this man, and each time, he’d been wearing thick glasses. So thick, in fact, that now that I was seeing him without them, his eyes looked completely different.

And yet… utterly familiar.

“Your name isn’t Anthony Barto, is it?” I growled, taking a step closer, using my height advantage to show him I meant business.

He paled, and when he shook his head, his jowls shook.

“Are you Syd Wharton?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

It seemed impossible. How could I have missed that?

But, to cut myself a bit of a break… the man before me looked like he could’ve eaten the man I’d been searching for over the last few weeks. The Syd Wharton that Colt and I had been trying to find had been skinny and withdrawn. His driver’s license showed a man who was only a buck-thirty with a shaved head, and the client I’d been working with weighed at least a hundred pounds more than that. No wonder we hadn’t seen any traces of him on security footage or any other way. He didn’t look anything like that anymore, and I had no idea how this transformation was possible.

“Start talking,” I seethed, keeping the crumpled note out of the conversation for now.