Chapter 13 #2
“Kabila,” Talon agreed. “He’s got the talent. He just hasn’t decided if he’s part of a team or a one-man army.”
Jug gave a sharp grin. “You handled him today. He’ll fall in line.”
Talon wasn’t as certain. But he’d keep hammering the lesson home until it stuck—or until Kabila was someone else’s problem.
They were halfway back to the Guardian compound when Talon’s phone buzzed in his cargo pocket. He glanced at the screen and smiled at Riley’s name.
Riley: How’s your day baking in the sun?
Another followed before he could answer.
Riley: Bet you’re ten degrees crankier by now.
Talon’s mouth tugged faintly at the corner. She had a way of cutting through his day without trying. He thumbed back.
Talon: I’m alive. SRF still in one piece. What’s going on, blue eyes?
Her reply came after a pause.
Riley: Nothing urgent. Just wondering when I’m going to see you again.
Talon frowned at the screen. The text was strange, not in her nature. She didn’t usually reach out midday unless there was something on her mind. But … yeah, something was off. He hit call. She answered on the second ring, her voice warm but threaded with something he couldn’t quite place.
“Hey. I didn’t mean to pull you off work,” she said.
“You didn’t,” he said, stepping out of the wind. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” He could sense she was hedging as she continued, “Just … figured we could set a time. For our next date.”
He let the pause stretch, listening to the cadence of her voice. It sounded normal. It also didn’t. “Are we okay?” Fuck him. Was she upset with how the night went? She didn’t give off those vibes.
“Okay? What? Of course, we’re okay. I’m so happy about us. I just need to talk to you about something, and I’d rather not do it over text. It isn’t anything about us, I promise. Something here at the mine.” The rush in her voice and the sincerity of her words helped to relax him.
Relax? Yeah, the uncertainty had piled on fast, and her answer took a fuckton of never-before-imagined crap off his shoulders.
Damn, his ass puckered tight and fast on that one.
Fuck him, he was going crazy. Sun stroke.
He’d blame it on the sun. Yep. He wasn’t freaking the fuck out because of innocent comments.
He was stroking out. That was his story.
“All right,” he said finally. “Tonight work for you?”
Her exhale sounded lighter. “Tonight works.”
“I’ll pick you up at the camp gate after I wrap here.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
The call ended, but the faint tension in her voice lingered in the back of his mind.
Jug glanced over. “That Riley?”
Talon pocketed the phone. “Yeah.”
Jug’s grin was slow. “Date night?”
Talon’s tone stayed even. “Yeah. Date night.”
The road to the mining camp twisted through low, rocky hills, the kind that radiated heat long after the sun dropped to the horizon. By the time Talon had pulled up to the camp gate, the air had cooled a bit.
Riley was waiting, leaning against the fence in dark jeans, hair pulled back, a loose shirt tucked casually at the waist. The guard at the gate pretended not to notice the way she straightened when Talon’s SUV rolled up.
“You’re late,” she said as she climbed in.
Talon checked the clock. “Right on time.”
She buckled her seatbelt, giving him a sideways smile. “I was ready early.”
“Then you’re just impatient.”
Her laugh was soft, and it rolled through him in a way that had nothing to do with the desert air.
They drove to the small town thirty kilometers away. It was neutral ground where Guardian and mining company politics didn’t hang in the air. The restaurant was quiet, low-lit, the kind of place with cold beer, good steak, and tables tucked far enough apart to keep conversations private.
Over dinner, Riley was relaxed, her eyes bright, as her conversation effortlessly shifted from his day to sharp observations about environmental compliance.
“… so I tell Marisol that the shipment invoices look perfect this quarter, and she nearly falls over.” Riley shook her head, sipping her wine.
“She thinks I’m joking. I’m not sure what that says about our usual numbers. ”
Talon’s brow lifted faintly. “Sounds like you’re keeping them on their toes.”
“That’s the job,” she said lightly. “Make sure they’re doing the right thing, keep everyone happy, keep the board happy …” She swirled her wine, her voice trailing just enough.
He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “That’s a lot of pressure for one person.”
Her smile came quick, practiced. “It’s what I signed up for.”
“You’re good at it.”
That earned him a softer smile, one that felt closer to the woman she was.
“Tell me what’s bothering you.”
She glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “You know I’m worried.”
“I do.” Reaching over, he covered her hand with his. “Tell me.”
“Hypothetically …”
Talon’s mouth curved faintly. “Dangerous word.”
She tilted her head and pretended not to notice his scrutiny. “If someone noticed that certain shipments from … let’s say … a site in South America weren’t lining up perfectly—”
He set his beer down, listening carefully. “Hypothetically, of course.”
“Yes. Hypothetically.” She met his gaze evenly. “Would that be something worth … flagging?”
Talon studied her for a long moment. Her shoulders were loose, her tone casual, but there was something in her eyes. Not fear. Caution.
“Depends,” he said finally, “on who is doing the noticing. And how loud they plan to be about it. But hypothetically, I’d need to know more. I’d need to see proof and understand the scope.”
Her smile came quickly again, that smooth PR veneer sliding back in place. “Makes sense.”
Talon didn’t call her on it. Not yet. They lingered over dessert, their conversation drifting back to safer ground. But as he walked her back to the SUV, the faint thread of tension was still there, woven between her words and her silences.