Nimue froze, her water bottle halfway to her lips, surprise flashing across her face before she masked it. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” Liam crossed his arms, his gaze steady on hers. “But I work, so it’d need to be early. What do you say? Tomorrow morning, same trail, six o’clock?”
She raised an eyebrow as if she hadn’t expected that, and neither had he, if he was honest. But the offer was out now, and Liam wasn’t one to back down. Running with her would keep her close, give him a chance to figure out what she was hiding. And beyond the job, beyond the suspicion, there was something about Nimue—something that made him want to know her, to make sure she stayed safe, even if every instinct warned him that it was a dangerous game.
“Fine,” she said, taking the tablet from him. “Six a.m. Don’t be late.”
Then she headed into her bus and shut the door.
Oh, he wouldn’t.
Well, yesterday’s conversation with Liam had worked out swimmingly, hadn’t it?
In fact, everything suddenly seemed to have simmered down.
Liam had handed her the perfect excuse to monitor him, the Bratva chatter about their “unnamed target” had vanished into digital silence, and that photo of her and Liam—the one that had blazed across social media before disappearing—stayed buried. Her fingers traced the edge of her laptop. Mission accomplished.
Her stomach twisted anyway.
The wordcontactscraped against something raw inside her chest. Liam wasn’t some operative’s asset, and she’d make a lousy Black Swan. Emberly had mastered the art of surgical detachment, but Nimue’s defenses crumbled every time those blue eyes locked on hers. She checked her phone: 5:57 a.m.
Three minutes till showtime. Her pulse hammered against her ribs—not from the promised run, but from the thought of seeing him again. She shoved the flutter down, buried it under layers of justification. This was about keeping him breathing, not about the way his shoulders filled out that ranger uniform.
Right.And she was the Queen of England.
Her hands fumbled with her shoelaces, yanking them tight before she dropped into a lunge. Then another. Her shoes scraped against the gravel as she paced, dawn air sharp in her lungs. The canyon’s rim blazed amber in the climbing sun, but her attention stayed glued to the empty road.
Dust plumed before she heard the engine. Liam’s truck rumbled into the clearing with thirty seconds to spare, kicking up a cloud that made her step back. Her chest loosened—a reaction she tried to ignore.
He unfolded from the driver’s seat, all long limbs and easy confidence. His running gear clung to a frame carved by years of vertical living, dark hair mussed just enough to make her fingers itch.
Trouble with a capital T.
“Morning.” His voice carried the rasp of someone who’d rather still be horizontal. Those blue eyes swept over her with a mix of wariness and warmth that set her off-balance.
“Morning to you too, sunshine.” She kept her tone light, breezy. Safe territory.
Silence stretched between them. He knew nothing about her. Whereas a basic search had told her he’d been raised in asuburb of Chicago, was the youngest of four, had a fraternal twin brother who had just been exposed as the well-known author Victor Holt, and had spent the past two years taking extreme-adventure jobs in Europe. She’d pulled those details from databases he’d never know she’d cracked.
None of it sat right. She knew his secrets. He didn’t know hers. But it was the best way to keep him safe, maybe.
“Ready?”
“Try to keep up, Superman,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow.
And why had she saidthat?Oh brother.Clearly she’d read too many of the Instagram posts before deleting them. They’d slivered into her brain and stayed there.
“After you,” he said, his smile wry.
She practically fled to the trail, him a few steps behind.
They fell into a rhythm that felt easy, almost natural. Sagebrush and shale blurred past, the canyon’s edge yawning to their left. Dust and pine filled her nostrils. Sun warmed her back through the tank top. Their strides matched, synchronized, and she scrambled for neutral ground.
“So.” She kept her breathing even. “Any luck tracking down the kids?”
His mouth twitched—not quite a smile. “We’ve got names. Too bad their parents think we’re making it up.”
