Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Sable was alive.
He’d spent the past seven years wondering. No body, no proof, was his maxim. During those seven years, he’d grown colder and saw the world without illusion.
But now she was back.
Seeing her had cracked his armor right down the middle. She looked better than the ghost he’d carried around, stronger, sharper, and as appealing as ever. Everything else faded into static.
Almost everything.
A part of him would always remain alert to danger. Habit. Survival. His nature was cast in stone.
The café hadn’t changed. Same dented tin chairs, same sun-bleached awning shading scrubbed tables that had witnessed a dozen whispered ops. Tourists drifted past in the shimmering heat, unaware of what was being discussed, while locals lingered over cigarettes and gelato, unconcerned.
No one interacted, which suited two covert operatives.
Sable sat tucked away in a corner, a coffee in one hand, her cell in the other. A stranger might think her relaxed. He knew better. The tilt of her shoulders telegraphed tension. The way she angled the camera on her phone told him she was mapping the scene, searching for him.
Seven years of pent-up frustration flared. Did she think so little of him that it cost her nothing to vanish?
The delicate line of her jaw and the stubborn set of her mouth taunted him. The feel of her body beneath his hands—
He should have moved on. Why couldn’t he?
Sable’s relentless war against traffickers was the one thing in her favor. Nothing deterred her. She would always throw herself between predator and prey.
That was the only reason he was here. But seeing her again was like a jagged blade rasping over old scars. Her messages had been a shock. Seeing her was worse. Yes, he was relieved that she wasn’t in her grave but he couldn’t forget she had chosen to be dead to him.
Frank, one of the café’s owners, recognized him and wisely pretended otherwise. A flicker of awareness in Sable’s eyes told him she’d noticed the shift in Frank’s expression and knew he was close by.
Correct.
And he wanted answers.
* * *
Poised for action, she lifted her chin, scanning her surroundings without seeming to take interest in anything. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She sensed Elijah as a pressure drop before a storm. He moved like smoke, silent, invisible, lethal. If he wanted to be seen, she’d see him.
Lino broke the tension by approaching with the bill. “Church is the only cool place today,” he said, glancing toward the Anglican cathedral across the street.
“Thanks for the advice.” She slid cash across the table, steadying her breathing. Lino’s comment wasn’t a throwaway, but a direction.
Dodging tourists and traffic, she crossed the road and entered the cathedral.
Hefty stone walls swallowed sound, and light fell in slanting halos across the stripped-back interior.
It was blissfully cool. If she’d got it wrong and Lino wasn’t dropping a huge hint, at least she’d have a chance to grab a few moments of tranquility.
* * *
He watched her slide into a pew, head bowed as though in prayer. To an outsider, she was a woman seeking peace, but he knew the camera on her cell was reversed, showing everything behind her. She would have noted the nearest exit the second she stepped inside.
He waited to be sure they were alone, then moved.
She sensed him before the camera did its work. Turning, she stared up at him. Their eyes locked. His senses sharpened, hunter keen. Observing Sable from a distance had been manageable. Seeing her without a shadow or barrier between them was something else.
“Sable.” He kept his voice low, emotion buried deep.
“Elijah.”
His name on her tongue was like long-forgotten music, but sentimentality had no place.
“Thank you for coming. I didn’t see you until you were right behind me. Of course,” she added, “you’re too good for that.”
“No slouch yourself,” he said, giving her cell a pointed glance. “So, why did you bring me here?”
She blinked at his cold tone, but showed no other emotion. “It’s always the slavers. You must have known…”
He didn’t answer.
“I wouldn’t have contacted you unless I was desperate,” she went on.
“Desperate and dead?”
“I recovered.”
“So, it seems.” He let a beat pass. “I don’t have time to waste, Sable.”
“Will you sit? Just for a moment?”
“Here? Too public. Prayers won’t save me—or you.”
Her voice thinned with urgency. “There’s no one else I can turn to. Lives are at stake, and this is time critical. Only you and the Blood and Thunder team can shut down this latest band of monsters.”
“I never deploy the team unless the intel is flawless.”
“It is,” she assured him, her gaze steady. “This band of people traffickers is bigger, stronger, and better organized than anything we’ve seen before. I have to do something. We must.”
“We?”
“I can guess what you think of me, but this isn’t about us. Please think about the captives and the hell they’re going through. If there’s even the slimmest chance we can save them—”
“Go on.”
“A cleaner in my building raised my suspicions. Anna Marie was too young and too scared to be on her own. When I saw men in a black SUV collecting her, I grew suspicious.”
“So you followed them?”
“It was worth the risk.”
His jaw tightened. She knew the rule: never approach hostiles alone.
“I followed them to a derelict house and waited outside. Anna Marie eventually emerged. Dragged out by two thugs, she was dressed like a doll, a very frightened doll. They pushed her into the back of an SUV and drove off. The next day, when she was back cleaning in my building, I approached her. She broke down, and told me there were dozens like her—girls, boys, older prisoners. Held in filth. No help. No hope.”
“Until you came along. Are you sure she wasn’t setting you up?”
“You know me better than that.”
“I used to think I knew you.”
Silence fell until she whispered, “I can’t ignore what I found. Please help. I need someone I can trust.”
“Trust.” He let the word hang.
“Someone who doesn’t freeze when things get ugly,” Sable insisted, ignoring the atmosphere between them. “Someone who knows how I work.”
“Someone who shared your bed?”
“Don’t twist this—”
“Any more than you have already?”
Her lips thinned. “Take us out of it. This is business, Elijah.”
“Glad we got that straight. So, what’s the intel?” His sweeping glance told her the church was empty for now, but wouldn’t stay so for long.
“I’ve got everything we need to burn their operation. Names. Faces. Routes. Contacts. But…”
“They’re watching you,” he concluded as she hesitated. “Which means they’re watching me. We can’t talk here.”
“Where?”
“My yacht. The Seraphim is moored in Grand Harbour.”
“Your space. Your rules.”
“I’m still alive,” he pointed out.
“When?”
“Follow me out. Say a prayer first. From the sound of it, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
He slipped through a side door, back into the sun and the reassuring bustle of a busy street. She would follow. The mission mattered too much for Sable to run now.
Did he want her to follow him? Did he want to wake the past?
Fuck it!
Why not? The cause was bigger than both of them.