After checking his phone, he answers the door.
He carries in the groceries and refuses my offer of help.
I’m astounded by the number of things he purchased. And despite my insistence that I didn’t need anything, he bought a carton of my favorite chai. How he guessed the brand I liked, I have no idea.
He also stocked up on protein bars, more ready-to-heat soups, and bakery items I’m guessing he’ll never touch.
“I’ll leave you to it.”
As he moves through the living area to the room he’d retrieved the computer from, I let out an unsettled breath.
Stryker completely devastates me.
He’s gotten too close, and I can’t allow that. I have no choice but to save myself.
Riveted in place, I watch as he closes the glass door behind him.
Then, even telling myself I shouldn’t, I creep in that direction, keeping myself pressed against the wall.
I listen intently, pushing away the background noises. His deep voice is low and resonant.
“Inamorata. I’m out for the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow too—got a situation here that needs handling.”
My breath catches in my throat.
Inamorata.
Even I know the woman is Hawkeye’s right-hand person.
The locket warms against my skin, a warning burn that tightens my gut.
I’m in the lion’s den, and I have no business craving a kiss from the lion himself.
A few moments later, there’s silence.
Just in case he comes back out, I hurry back to the island and login to the computer to open an image I’d been working on last night.
Since my tracks are covered, I open a secure messaging app on my phone. I’m not taking any chances that he’s logging my keystrokes.
After glancing at the door one more time to be sure it’s still closed, I turn the volume all the way down on my device and send a secure message to Remy—an old fixer from my dad’s shadowy world.
Any chatter on past scores?
Moments later, my screen lights up.
There’s a potential collector throwing money, looking for any piece of the Hollingsworth Collection. No idea who.
Then I take a deep breath. Dad made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone—even Remy—about his most recent score.
So how can I ask about it? Carefully I type in another question. Anything new going on in the world that you’ve heard about?
Everyone lying low after that spring heist in Paris.
So I have no idea what I’m up against.
With a frustrated stab at the big red X, I close the app and flip my phone screen-side down on the quartz.
When I look up, Stryker’s there, watching me.
