“Brent . . . be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable.” He scanned the officers, who’d withdrawn a few yards to give them privacy while they conversed, and dropped his voice. “Eve, I know you want this solved. I do too. And I promise you, we’ll work relentlessly to identify and find Al.”

“But Al is here today. With my plan, we don’t have to wait. We just force his or her hand and end this now.”

“No. It’s too dangerous. Your plan could get you killed.”

“Not if precautions are taken. Put several officers around me, give me a bulletproof vest like all of them are wearing, and I’ll be fine.”

Appealing to her own safety wasn’t working.

Time to switch tactics.

“Other people could be hurt or killed.”

“That’s why I suggested a buffer area between me and the Republican group during the speech. This Al can’t be toting a rifle in the Antifa crowd. Everyone would notice it. So he or she must have a pistol or a knife. They’ll have to get close for either to be effective. If someone darts from the crowd toward me, your people should have more than sufficient opportunity to take them down.”

“We don’t know that Al is part of the black bloc group. This person could be a hired sniper—and a proficient marksman can hit the T-zone”—he traced a line with his none-too-steady index finger between her eyes and down her nose—“from very far away.”

She swallowed. “You think Antifa hires snipers?”

“Never underestimate the enemy.”

Her brow knitted . . . and then she shook her head. “No. If they’re somehow trying to pin this on Steve, we know he isn’t a sniper. It’s someone in the group hiding under cover of black attire and the crowd.”

No surprise that she’d found the flaw in his logic, but it had been worth a try. Because he really hated to resort to the easy solution—asking the president of the Young Republican group to cancel the remainder of the event as a matter of public safety. The man had been amenable to that suggestion earlier, according to the lieutenant hovering near the entrance to the tent. It was a viable option.

But he’d rather not pull rank on Eve. That kind of high-handed tactic could undermine their relationship. Best case, she’d come to terms with the situation on her own and decide to walk away. After that, they could have her out of the park in—

“We’ve got movement at the perimeter.”

As one of the officers at the edge of the tent relayed that terse observation, the lieutenant joined them. “We have to leave. The Antifa folks are heading this direction.”

Brent gritted his teeth. The time for talk—and negotiation—was over. If Eve hated him for taking control, he’d have to live with the consequences.

At least she’d be alive.