Chapter 2 #2
Riven took the opportunity to study them.
Run through the questions that had been tumbling through her mind since they’d first entered the bar months ago.
She’d known instantly they weren’t civilians.
Not with how they moved, breathed — as if they read a room by the way the air moved.
How the sound traveled. She would have pegged them as threats if they hadn’t exuded an overwhelming sense of honor.
She’d done a bit of digging, used Savvy’s secure setup to run background checks, but she’d come up empty. No records, no photos, no anything. Which meant they likely shared her fate. Had moved here to disappear. Fade into the black water the way she had.
Riven shifted her gaze to McGuire. He’d gotten under her skin from the moment they’d met. Like a song she couldn’t stop singing. And she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she’d met him before.
She hadn’t, but that sense of déjà vu hadn’t eased.
McGuire narrowed his eyes, studying her for what felt like forever before he sighed, braced his elbows on his knees. “You’re not a bartender.”
She let a hint of a smile show through as she glanced between him and Patch. “And you two aren’t bodyguards.”
He shrugged. “Technically, we are.”
“And technically, I’ve been pouring drinks for five months.”
He grinned. Not forced, just an easy curve of his lips that got her heart pounding faster than the damn battle. He motioned to her bag shoved under the seat. “Most civilians don’t have go-bags stashed in a hidden panel.”
“And most bodyguards don’t move like they’ve spent a lifetime living in the shadows.”
“Enough.” Patch shuffled forward, rocking the skiff as waves rippled out each side. “Are we going to dance around this shit all night? Or are we going to have a serious conversation? Because it’s only a matter of time before those assholes come back. Only this time, they’ll bring everyone.”
She stiffened. “If I’d known they were on to me, I would have bugged out. But it doesn’t make sense. I’ve followed the rules. Haven’t left this backward, gator-loving town for the past five months.”
She raked her fingers through her hair, exhaustion weighing heavy on her shoulders.
All this time, wasted. And she still wasn’t any closer to burning Herrera’s empire to the ground.
Finding the one piece of evidence that would end her banishment.
Maybe give those men she’d helped back their lives, too.
The boat shimmied as McGuire turned. “Are you with WITSEC?”
She laughed because he wasn’t exactly wrong. “No. Not like you’re thinking.”
“Then, who’s Herrera?”
“He’s… It’s complicated.”
She reached into her bag, removed the cell. It creaked as she cracked the lid, the screen flashing to life. She stared at the two numbers programmed into the phone. Her lifelines, Savvy had said. Life or death only.
Riven turned the unit over in her hands, hating the way they shook. Whether from the adrenaline dump from the chase or knowing she had no other choice but to make the call, she wasn’t sure. Only that once she’d hit the button, everything would change.
McGuire nudged her arm, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight. She hadn’t realized how dark they were. More like gunmetal than sapphire, the deep shade a stunning contrast to his sandy blond hair. The subtle hints of red along his jawline.
She closed her eyes, wishing she’d never hopped on the back of that damn motorbike when his finger brushed across her cheek.
“Riven.”
Her name shouldn’t sound that gravelly. That low.
She opened her eyes, held up the cell. “It’s my oh-shit phone. I’m not supposed to use it unless it’s life or death.”
Patch grinned. “Pretty sure if you wait long enough, someone else will try to kill you.”
She smiled. “I’m glad one of us finds this funny.”
“How does it work? You call, and a chopper ghosts out of the sky? Guys on ropes rappel down and whisk you away?”
“I doubt it’s that dramatic, though, honestly, I have no idea. I only have two numbers. I’m supposed to call the first, if he doesn’t answer, then try the second.”
She touched the screen, finger hovering over the first contact, everything inside her coiled tight before she tapped the icon, held it up to her ear. The numbered tapped out over the line, an eerie silence weighing down the air until the line connected and it rang.
A heartbeat later, a soft buzz vibrated in McGuire’s pocket, each ring timed with the hushed hum of his phone. She looked him in the eyes as he removed his cell, stared at the number, then back at her. His face stoic. Nothing but hard edges and unreadable lines.
She canceled the call. “That’s got to be a mistake. I…” She fumbled for the second contact, hit it. “I’m sure the other number…”
A stupidly loud chirp sounded from Patch’s back pocket, burning brighter as he removed the cell, held it up. “I wonder who’s calling?”
She froze, throat locked tight, her heart a dead weight in her chest. She glanced at the phone, then back to them, nothing making it past the lump in her throat.
McGuire touched her knee, and she bolted upright, nearly tipped the damn boat over as it rocked from side to side. He grabbed the edge, Patch helping spread out the weight as she forced in a shuddering breath, finally collapsing back on the weathered seat.
Riven clasped the cell to her chest. “I… I don’t understand. She said they were my failsafe. That they handled this kind of trouble all the time, I…”
McGuire cocked his head. “She?”
Riven nodded.
“Well, shit.”
The two men looked at each other, a frustrated huff connecting them across the small boat. They spoke it in the same breath — a ragged, disbelieving curse. “Fucking Savvy.”