3. Jace
Jace
I watch Sadie push back from the table and carry her plate inside.
The porch light catches the sway of her ponytail as she moves.
She keeps her back straight and her steps purposeful, like she can march straight through this assignment without letting it touch her.
I grin to myself. This woman fights dirty with rules and eye rolls, but I like the challenge.
I follow her into the kitchen and rinse my plate in the sink. “You know,” I say, drying my hands on a dish towel, “if you get nervous out here all alone in that big bed, I can always keep you safe right next to me. Bodyguard duty, full service. I promise not to snore.”
Sadie turns slowly. She rolls her eyes so hard I worry they might get stuck. “No thanks. I’ll take my chances with the bed and the locked door.”
I chuckle and hold up both hands. “Can’t blame a guy for offering. Professional hazard. I take safety very seriously.”
She gives me a look that says she sees right through my charm and doesn’t find it nearly as amusing as I do. “Good night, Jace.”
“Night, Sadie.” I keep my voice light, but I mean it. She disappears down the hallway. Her door clicks shut a moment later. I hear the faint sound of her moving around in there, probably triple-checking the window locks.
I grab a pillow and blanket from the hall closet and make up the couch.
It’s shorter than I like, but I have slept in worse places.
I stretch out and stare at the ceiling. The ocean hums steady outside the windows.
Somewhere in this quiet beach town, trouble waits for us.
Victor Liotta’s name keeps circling in my head.
My brothers and I chase the same ghost of a father, and every lead points toward men like him. Men who own pieces of this harbor.
Tomorrow we hit the shops. We stock up on groceries and wander the streets like a couple on vacation.
We hold hands. We smile at the right people.
We sell the story. And while we do it, I plan to swing by the Lobster Shack on the marina.
Word is Liotta has his hooks in that place.
I want to see who runs it and what kind of eyes watch the water.
I check my phone one last time. No new messages from Banks or the others. That means no fresh trouble yet. Good. I set the device on the coffee table within easy reach and tuck my pistol under the pillow. The couch creaks as I settle in. I close my eyes, but sleep stays out of reach.
Sadie’s face keeps flashing behind my lids.
That stubborn lift of her chin. How she chopped vegetables like she could control the whole situation with a sharp knife and perfect manners.
She wants nothing to do with me beyond the job.
I get it. But something about her makes me want to crack that professional shell and see what spills out.
I turn onto my side and punch the pillow into a better shape. This assignment got interesting. Real interesting. And if I have to pretend to be her doting fiancé, or whatever while I keep her alive and dig up answers about Liotta, I’ll play the part like I was born for it.
The waves keep rolling outside. I let their rhythm pull me under. Tomorrow we start selling our story to Sunbreak Harbor. And I start figuring out exactly who wants Sadie Wells gone.