5. Jace
Jace
I stand in the living room and adjust the collar of my button-down shirt.
The fabric feels tighter than usual across my shoulders.
Sadie steps out of the hallway in a simple sundress that catches the light and skims her curves in a way I try hard not to notice.
She looks good. Too good for this kind of night.
I cross the room and stop right in front of her.
“What happened at the store today cannot happen again in public,” I say, voice calm and firm.
“You can’t pull away from me like that. Not when people watch us.
We sell the story that we’re a couple. Head over heels.
Inseparable. Or this whole thing falls apart. ”
Sadie lifts her chin, eyes flashing behind her glasses. “It took me by surprise. I said I was sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t keep us alive.” I reach out and grab her wrist, tugging her closer until only inches separate us.
Heat rolls off her skin. Her pulse jumps under my fingers.
“I need you to trust me out there. My arm around you. Your hand in mine. You lean into it. You look at me like I’m the only man in the room.
Because if someone connected to Liotta spots the lie, we lose our only advantage. ”
Her breath catches. She doesn’t step back.
Instead she stares up at me, lips parted, cheeks flushed.
The air between us crackles. I can smell her shampoo, something clean and floral that mixes with the ocean breeze drifting through the open window.
My grip on her wrist stays firm but gentle. I feel every quick beat of her heart.
“I am trying,” she whispers, voice a little breathless. “This isn’t exactly normal for me. Playing pretend with a man I barely know while people might want me dead.”
I lean in enough that our foreheads nearly touch.
“Then get used to it fast, Sadie. Because out there I’m your devoted fiancé.
I pull you close when I want. I keep you safe.
And you let me.” My thumb brushes once over the inside of her wrist. Her skin feels soft and warm.
Tension coils tight in my chest. I want to close the last inch between us. I don’t. Obviously.
She swallows hard. Her free hand comes up and rests lightly on my chest, right over my racing heart. “Fine. I’ll sell it. But you don’t get to enjoy this too much.”
A slow grin tugs at my mouth despite everything. “Too late for that.”
I release her wrist. She steps back, smoothing her dress, but the flush on her cheeks stays. We lock up the bungalow and climb into the Jeep. The drive to the marina passes in charged silence. I keep one eye on the rearview mirror the whole way.
The Lobster Shack sits right on the water, strings of lights glowing against the darkening sky.
Laughter and clinking glasses spill out from the open deck.
I park and come around to Sadie’s side. This time she takes my hand without hesitation.
I lace our fingers together and pull her close as we walk toward the entrance.
Her shoulder brushes my arm with every step.
Inside, the place buzzes with locals and tourists.
The smell of butter and grilled seafood fills the air.
I scan the room while I smile down at Sadie.
A bartender wipes glasses behind the counter.
Two waitresses weave between tables. A man in a faded polo shirt sits at the end of the bar, eyes sharp as he watches the crowd.
I note every face, every exit, every shadow that feels off.
We get a table on the deck overlooking the water. I pull Sadie’s chair out and sit close enough that our knees touch under the table. She orders lobster tails and a glass of white wine. I choose the grilled catch of the day and keep my voice light as I lean in.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I say loud enough for the couple at the next table to hear. My hand rests on the back of her chair, fingers brushing her shoulder.
Sadie tilts her head and gives me a smile that almost looks real. “You clean up pretty well yourself, fiancé.”
The food arrives. I eat slowly and keep scanning. The man at the bar glances our way again. I squeeze Sadie’s knee under the table. She doesn’t pull away this time. Good.
She takes a sip of wine and studies me over the rim of her glass. “I have never seen you so serious,” she says quietly. “Not like this.”
I keep my expression easy for anyone watching, but my voice drops.
“I’m working. Every person in here could know something about Liotta.
About what happened to Nash and Sin. About where my father might still be.
I need clues that bring my brothers home.
That bring my dad home. So I watch. I listen. I stay ready.”
Her hand finds mine on the table. This time she threads our fingers together on purpose. The touch feels different now. Warmer. Real enough to make my chest tighten.
I scan the deck again. A waitress laughs with a group of fishermen. The sharp-eyed man at the bar stands and heads toward the back. I file it away. Later I’ll find a way to ask the right questions without blowing our cover.
For now I lean closer to Sadie and brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Smile, baby. We’re supposed to be crazy about each other.”
“What did I say about nicknames?” she whispers close to my ear.
I lean back to look her in the eyes. “You said to use them. Often.”
She blushes. And for a second, with the lights twinkling over the water and her hand in mine, it doesn’t feel entirely like pretending. The danger still waits somewhere in the shadows of this town, but right here at this table, the tension between us burns hotter than the grill in the kitchen.
I squeeze her hand once more and keep watching. My brothers need me sharp. And Sadie needs me alive. I plan to give them both exactly what they need.