“Fun? No.” Connor took his glass from the table. “I can tell you, not a lot that we’ve seen from that shelter has been fun.” Shadows played in his green eyes, ones that reminded her that they’d probably seen the same things she had, sometimes worse. Still, Connor kept going. “But it’s important, so we do it.”
“And how did you get into that?”
Trent answered, which was fine by her, because he seemed friendlier—less intense. “I said Garrison owns a security store. Some other folks who work with the same group reached out to him about outfitting the shelter with new cameras about ten years ago.”
“Other people you know?”
He shrugged. “Call it friends.”
Sunny thought about the men she’d seen, always from a distance. They were all large, confident and clearly used to being in control. They were the kind of men she worked hard to avoid, which was exactly the reason she had always ignored them. “Some friends you have.”
Connor let out a snort but didn’t say a thing.
Garrison walked in, something in his hand, but he stood too far away from her to identify it.
“Is everything okay?” Fear prickled at her, as she worried he’d found some sign of her ex, that maybe she wasn’t as safe as she’d thought she was.
“Yeah,” Garrison said, an odd tone to his voice. He approached and set the thing he held onto the table. Her mask stared back at her. “I think we need to have a talk, Fox.”
This wassomuch worse.