Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
For a moment, Vivian couldn’t breathe. The words rigged to blow hung in the air like the echo of a gunshot. Her pulse thundered against her ribs, and every instinct she’d honed through years of fieldwork screamed move.
She stepped back, shoulder brushing the cold bulkhead, flashlight trembling despite the tightness of her grip. The smell of scorched metal filled the space, sharp and invasive, clinging to the back of her throat.
Blake turned toward her, crouched low, the beam from his flashlight carving shadows across his jaw.
Even smeared with soot and grime, he had that calm about him—the kind that made people follow him into danger.
His hand hovered near the sealed vent, fingers tracing the resin like a man reading braille.
“I’ve seen setups like this before. Crude. Cheap. But effective. This doesn’t mean they know who we are,” he said.
She hated how steady his tone was. How sure. It reminded her why Maddox had partnered them again—because no matter how reckless Blake got, he was rarely wrong.
“So whoever owned this boat—”
He cut her a look, blue eyes sharp under the weak light. “—wanted it to go up the second someone tried to use the generator.”
Her flashlight slipped, beam jittering over the wall. Someone. Not something. She swallowed hard. “Then we were the target.”
“Maybe,” he said, standing. “Or maybe Laurel Tide booby-trapped it to keep nosy buyers from getting too close. It fits their MO. Would’ve looked like an accident. Might actually be evidence they don’t know who we are. Innocents tend to die in accidents, agents disappear.”
“Jenson,” she whispered.
He moved past her to the stairs, brushing close enough that his shoulder grazed hers. The contact burned through the chill, fast and unwanted. He smelled like diesel, salt, and danger.
Always danger.
Vivian forced her focus back to the generator. The faint curl of smoke still leaked from the vent, and with it came a tremor low in her gut. She hated this—the uncertainty, the way the shadows seemed to lean closer, listening.
When she climbed the steps after him, the boat creaked beneath her boots, the sound amplified in the hush that followed the storm. On deck, the mist pressed in thick and heavy. The marina lights flickered across the black water, halos trembling in the fog.
Blake was already at the bow, scanning the shoreline like he expected someone to be watching. The muscles in his neck tensed into defined cords.
Vivian joined him, pulling her collar tighter. “If Laurel Tide’s behind this, it means they’re closer than we thought. You think the broker’s connected?”
His jaw flexed. “Could be.”
“Or Dan. Or both,” she added.
The wind shifted, carrying a faint metallic clang from somewhere down the dock—a chain against metal. Ordinary. Maybe not.
Her hand drifted toward her weapon before she caught herself. Paranoia won’t help. Precision will.
But still, she scanned the docks. Empty. Only the slap of water against the hull and the faint whistle of wind through rigging.
Behind her, Blake exhaled, low and steady. “We’ll lock it down for the night. Run a full sweep again at first light.”
She nodded, though every nerve still hummed. When she turned, he was closer than she expected, his shadow brushing hers. Their eyes met—his unreadable.
“Next time,” she said softly, “maybe tell me before the boat tries to explode.”
His grin was a flash in the dark, reckless and maddening. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Vivian rolled her eyes and stepped past him, though her pulse hadn’t slowed. She refused to let him see it—that he still got under her skin, even now, even here.
She returned to the cabin door, needing space from him, an impossible task on a boat. A sharp crack split the mist. Not a gunshot—more metallic. Her head snapped toward the sound, muscles tightening. The dock light flickered, throwing long, shuddering shadows across the water.
“Did you feel that?” she whispered.
Blake’s gaze swept the darkness, his posture shifting—shoulders squared, stance ready. “What?”
She scanned the waterline, pulse pounding. “Eyes. Someone watching.”
He took her in his arms and spun her to face away from him, toward the mist-covered water.
Her breath hitched—adrenaline still spiking from the flare and the intruder.
Losing control, even for a heartbeat, scraped against the part of her still shaped by her father’s choices. She would not depend on anyone. Especially not Blake.
“Wh-what are you doing?” She hated the way her words sounded breathy.
He didn’t answer right away, only kept his focus fixed on the line of empty slips. Then, quietly—too quietly—he pressed his mouth next to her ear, sending a shock wave through her. “Yeah. I feel it.”
She went to move away, to push herself free before her mind started falling for Blake’s womanizing tricks, but he didn’t let go.
“Cover. Dear.” With only those two words… she stilled.
Her pulse stuttered—not from danger but from the way his breath brushed her ear, grounding her more than she’d ever admit.
The tone—steady, confident—hit a place she pretended didn’t exist. The one that remembered he had pulled her from worse danger before… and the one terrified to ever let him do it again.
A cold prickle slid down her spine. Instinct, not imagination. Someone was out there. Watching. Waiting.
She stood frozen in the icy wind and desire to break free, but after a few moments, his warmth seeped through her jacket, and his strong arms around her made her almost forget they were being watched.
His warmth pressed against her, unwelcome and distracting.
It was all part of the cover, she told herself.
“That’s long enough. Inside,” she ordered, breaking free of his embrace, pushing the cabin door open, and motioning him through with her most seductive smile and curling one finger at him, telling him to follow her.
He hesitated, the stubborn set of his jaw surfacing again.
He followed her in, closing the door behind them with a muted click.
The small space was filled with the smell of damp wood and tension.
His presence loomed—warm, solid, infuriatingly close.
“You planning to blow our cover before we even unpack?”
Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “What cover? Our boat’s wired to explode, and someone’s out there tracking us. Forgive me if I don’t have a reckless death wish.”
“Laurel Tide’s paranoid,” he said, lowering his voice. “Could be they’re just cleaning house. I told you, they’re probably attempting to get rid of any curious new neighbors before they move product again.”
She crossed her arms, heartbeat still uneven. “So you think this was a warning shot?”
“I think Laurel doesn’t take risks, and this is the best chance we have,” he said, leaning one shoulder against the bulkhead. “Listen, at least give me until tomorrow. I’ll test Dan and see if he’s working for Laurel or just a guy trying to make a living on the docks. For Jenson.”
She frowned. “You really think you can charm the truth out of Dan?”
He smiled, all infuriating confidence. “I’m good at figuring people out.”
She laughed. “Just remember, this isn’t some woman you can coax into your web, only to run off to the next spider.”
His grin widened, slow and dangerous. “Sounds like jealousy.”
Her pulse jumped, and she hated that it did. “Sounds like you’re delusional.”
He chuckled low in his throat. “We’ll see.”
Before she could retort, a faint thud came from the dock outside—measured, deliberate. Heavy boots on wet wood.
Blake’s expression shifted instantly—no more teasing, only readiness.
He moved to the window, careful, peering through the narrow slit between curtains. The fog pressed thick against the glass.
“Viv,” he murmured, his tone stripped of humor. “We’re not alone.”
The sound hit him first—soft, deliberate. Boots on fiberglass. Someone was on deck.
Blake went still, breath thinning, pulse slowing the way it always did before things went sideways. Every sense tightened, tuned to the vibration in the hull. Not the tide. Not the wind. A man’s weight.
He flicked off the lantern and angled his body toward the companionway. “Stay behind me,” he murmured.
Vivian didn’t argue, but he caught her reflection in the port glass, eyes narrowed. Calculating, not afraid. She always looked like that right before a breach—sharp, coiled, dangerous. It used to drive him crazy in more ways than one.
The footsteps paused above them. Icy drops tapped against the deck, each drop a tiny countdown. The struts squealed as someone opened the hatch.
Blake stepped forward, putting himself between the intruder and Vivian. The silhouette that appeared at the top of the stairs was broad-shouldered, rain jacket dripping, head cocked just enough to listen.
“Can I help you?” Blake’s voice came out calm, protective—the kind of tone that said husband first, threat second.
The man lifted a hand, all polite gestures and false ease. “Didn’t mean to intrude. Thought the boat was still for sale.” His gaze drifted from Blake to Vivian and back again, taking in details he shouldn’t care about. “Was supposed to check her out for a client.”
Blake’s instincts scraped raw. The man’s stance was too balanced, too alert for a broker. And then Blake saw it—the ink just above the cuff. A tide around a Laurel.
His heart pounded one solid beat, then steadied. “You’re a little late to the showing,” he said evenly. “We closed last week.”
“Must’ve missed that.” The man smiled, but it was all surface—no warmth behind it.
“Beautiful vessel, though. Shame, really. She’s not exactly known for being…
safe. You might want to reconsider taking her on.
I mean, there’s a lot of dangers in boat renovations.
Don’t want anything to happen to that sweet wife of yours. ”