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Eden’s head snapped up. “Talon, no. I’ll come with you. I swear I will. But please don’t make him come.”
Rio turned off the water and circled the kitchen island. “Hey.” He wrapped a skinny arm around her shoulders. “I’m not letting you go with them alone.”
“Oh, God. I never thought you’d get dragged into this. I’m so sorry.” She pushed her empty plate away and scrubbed her hands over her face.
The kid shot me a dirty look. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told Eden.
“Pack a bag,” I ordered. “Now.”
Her shoulders sagged. “You’d better do what he says.”
Rio gave her another hug and whispered something in her ear, then disappeared behind the curtain dividing the living room. Meanwhile, I texted the pilot of the syndicate jet waiting at a private airport in New Jersey, letting him know we’d be flying out tomorrow night instead.
“I have to use the bathroom,” Eden said and pushed past me. It was off the living room. I followed her and, after making sure the window was too small for her to climb out of, waited outside the door.
Rio reappeared in a baggy purple hoodie, a backpack slung over his shoulder. “I have to get something from Eden’s room,” he said, darting around Adrian and Nathan.
Nathan made to go after him, but I gave a slight shake of my head. Rio reappeared with a sleeveless beaded shirt, a purple velvet skirt and a plastic box about the size of a book.
“What’s in the box?” Nathan demanded.
“My sewing kit,” Eden said, coming out of the bathroom.
My brow creased. I didn’t even know she sewed.
“Let me see,” I said gruffly, and Rio opened the box to show me the neatly arranged needles, scissors, thread and other sewing gear. All the metal items were stainless steel, so I shrugged a shoulder. “Fine. Bring it.”
Rio rolled up the shirt and skirt, taking care not to wrinkle the fabric, and stowed them in his backpack along with the sewing kit. Meanwhile, I helped Eden into her boots and jacket, then pointed her toward the hall. She yawned and shuffled along beside me like a zombie—and stumbled right as we reached the stairs.
She would’ve tumbled down the steps if I hadn’t been holding her arm.
Swallowing a curse, I swung her into my arms and started down the stairs. This time, she didn’t clutch at me, just slid an arm around my neck, the other hand resting lightly on my chest, as if she was only touching me because she had to.
It pissed me off enough that I gathered her closer, tucking her head into the space between my chin and shoulder. Unfortunately, that gave me a nose full of her sweet, sugar cookie scent. My favorite cookie before I was turned.
My mouth tightened. I turned my head, but it didn’t help much. I could still smell her, warm and sweet, with an overlay of salty perspiration from her long day.
Outside, I bundled her into the waiting SUV. Adrian pushed Rio in next to us and took shotgun in the front seat, with Nathan driving. On the way from Brooklyn to Manhattan, Eden dozed off, her head on my shoulder.
On my other side, Rio’s thin body practically vibrated with tension. He stared out the window as we crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, then turned to glare at me.
“Which syndicate are you guys from, anyway?”
I eyed him and, after a couple of beats, decided to indulge him. “The Maritime Syndicate.”
“Not the Kral Syndicate?”
“No.”
“And where are you from? I mean, your base or whatever you call it.”
“Nova Scotia.”
His brow scrunched. “Where the fuck is that?”
“Canada.”
“Oh. Well, I want to come too. I don’t want to get left at the airport.”
