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He could almost see the shutters slamming into place behind her eyes, cutting him off as surely as if she’d turned her back.
She shoved her sunglasses on. “Day’s wasting, Marine. Let’s go.”
He did as she asked, steering back into the channel.
He’d cast the line.
Now he waited.
*
Dread settled over her like a weighted blanket. He just didn’t let up. This maddening, relentless man — he couldn’t leave it alone. Frustration clawed up her throat. She wanted to scream it out, to tell him everything, to let him in and lay it all bare.
Instead, she pulled out her cellphone, checking their distance to the target. “Almost there,” she murmured.
They’d studied river charts and satellite imagery before settling on a secluded spot on public land just before the bend. The low-hanging trees provided cover, the deeper channel a believable place to fish, and the vantage point gave them an unobstructed line of sight of their quarry.
Ronan angled them toward the river’s edge, letting the current do most of the work as the boat slipped through the water, nudging softly against the bank beneath a stand of trees.
They stepped out, boots sinking slightly into damp sand, and secured the boat with a quick loop of rope. She walked several steps upstream to a patch that gave them a clean angle across the river, but still enough seclusion to obscure their real activities.
Felicity spread the blanket and unpacked the food from the basket. She knew nothing about fishing, so she left that part to him. She was simply his companion, enjoying a day by the water, reading on her tablet.
Ronan set the rods down and popped open the tackle box, playing his part. He cast a line into the channel, the lure breaking the surface with a soft plop. He secured the rod in its holder, repeating the process with the second.
She wasted no time, setting out her equipment with practiced efficiency, keeping her movements slow, unhurried. Nothing that would draw attention. Each piece disappeared into the picnic basket, concealed by the cloth covering. Her tablet rested in her lap, angled like she was reading. She removed her sunglasses and focused on the task.
A few taps brought the interface to life, and she adjusted the small receiver, pointing it toward the opposite bank. Signals began to populate — faint at first, barely there, but improving as she fine-tuned the angle.
“Anything biting?” Ronan asked, dropping beside her.
“Mm,” she murmured, moving the screen so he could see. “Picking up multiple access points.”
She reached for the slim laptop in the bag and flipped it open. It powered up in seconds, and she tethered her tablet to it. She wasn’t a skilled coder like her sister, but she had access to the best tools available and knew how to use them. Initiating the program, she let it do its thing — testing, nudging, feeling for weak points.
“This could take a while,” she said, turning her attention to the man sprawled beside her.
He lay on his back, one hand tucked beneath his head, jean-clad legs stretched out, feet crossed at the ankles. His long-sleeved henley pulled taut across his chest, outlining the hard lines of muscle beneath. Dappled sunlight played across his face, lending him an air of casual nonchalance — except for those eyes, fixed on her.
Fathomless blue, like the Atlantic Ocean on a sunny day. Those eyes had looked past her layers and deemed her worthy of friendship. Their sexual encounters aside, he liked her. Not many people did.
And without hesitation, he’d agreed to this illegal mission.
Despite his annoyance over her spying.
She owed him something. “She’s my sister,” she blurted.
He slowly pushed upright until he was eye-level with her. “Raegan?”
“Yeah.” She let out a breath. “I can’t tell you more about her — it’s not my story to tell. What I can tell you is that she asked me to come here and watch over the people she loved.”
His gaze didn’t waiver. “Is there danger?”
“Unlikely … but possible.”
“Hence your surveillance. Tracking new people.” His stare probed deeper. “You must be exhausted.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
