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Harper shook her head, eyes narrowing at the man. “No. What about my—”
“This isn’t about you!” Cross snapped.
“Dad,” Ryland growled out a warning, “leave her alone. Let me handle it.”
“Because you’ve been handling the situation so well?” he asked, sarcasm rolling over each word. Cross pulled in a breath, reeling in his anger before continuing more calmly. “Listen to me, Miss Grant. Despite you being a distraction…” he looked over at Ryland, “if you go back home now, you will not only put yourself in danger, but also everyone you love. The people you’re dealing with are ruthless and will not hesitate to slit your throat in the middle of the night. Then they’ll do the same to your sister.”
The idea of dragging Savannah into this mess and possibly her getting hurt, or worse, wasn’t an option. But what if she never saw her again? Tears pricked Harper’s eyes. “Can I at least talk to her and explain what’s happening?”
“That wouldn’t be wise.”
Squeezing her hands into fists, forcing the tears back, Harper muttered, “Excuse me,” and hurried away. Her feet couldn’t carry her away fast enough as the tears broke free, sliding down her cheeks. But there was no running from the problem. She’d been sucked into an absolute shit show, complete with assassins and an evil, clandestine organization. It truly was the plot of some crazy movie.
Except she was living it.
“Harper!”
The sound of Ryland’s voice made her pause and he easily caught up. Of all the apartment complexes in all of San Diego, she’d chosen the one where Ryland Mills lived. And she’d simply thought he was just some good-looking, laid-back surfer with a charming smile and easy going nature. But the harmless wave rider turned out to be a secret assassin.
In what world did this happen?
Harper swiped at her eyes and stopped walking, but she couldn’t look up at Ryland. Her thoughts were in turmoil and frustration filled her.
Ryland reached out, lifted her chin with his finger and said, “Let’s call your sister.”
???
Hell, it was the least he could for dragging her into this clusterfuck. And if his father didn’t like it, he could go fuck himself. Harper was just a civilian. She never signed up for this shit. She’d also made it clear Savannah was the only important person she had in her life.
“Really?” Her tear-bright eyes glittered so brightly with hope, Ryland’s chest tightened. He’d made her cry. This whole damn thing was his fault and he felt awful. All he wanted to do was fix things, and if that meant sneaking a call then that’s what he would do.
“Really,” he said. “C’mon.”
Leading her back to the bungalow, he found Banshee in the corner, feet propped up, computer on his lap and chomping on a bowl of freshly-cut mango. “You gotta try this. Juiciest mango I’ve ever had.”
“I don’t like mango,” Ryland said and looked over at Harper, arching a dark brow. “Want some?”
“No thanks,” she murmured. “I prefer pineapple.”
“Me too,” Ryland agreed.
“There’s a pineapple plant in the front yard,” Banshee told them. “And just about every other tropical fruit, too.”
“Great, but I need a favor first,” Ryland said, lowering his voice.
“You’re always using me. I’m beginning to question our friendship.” Banshee fake-pouted, popping another piece of mango into his mouth.
“I need your hacking skills. Can you set up a secure line so Harper can call her sister?”
Banshee dropped his feet and sat up straighter. “Is that a good idea?”
“No, but it’s necessary. So we need to make sure it can’t be traced and we keep it on the down low. Think you can handle it?”
Banshee stifled a huff of indignation. “Are you questioning my abilities?”
“Not at all.” Ryland grinned and Banshee gave him a nod.
“Alright. Where do we want to set up?”
