Grace didn’t even glance at them. She knew the world watched her and she took it as her due. The funny thing was, our Gracie was not this ethereal dream strolling in the sunshine. She was warm, funny, more than a little sassy, and loving as hell. Nothing remote about her.
Her tote bag swung lightly off her shoulder, the heels she’d slipped on clicking a rhythmic beat along the planks.
“Taser still in the tote?” Voodoo asked.
“Loaded,” she answered, casual as sunshine. “Not planning to use it.”
“Good girl,” Bones said automatically—then choked when one of the board-short idiots tried to wave her over.
Grace didn’t slow. Didn’t even flick her sunglasses their way.
Bones muttered something savage that was too low for me to fully catch, but I was pretty sure had to involve where he would shove that guy’s body parts.
I grinned. “Target’s looking. He sees her.”
On my feed, Yakov Dvorak straightened. He’d been lounging with a drink, trying too hard to be suave, but Grace killed whatever composure he had left. He was up, leaning over the rail, trying to get a better look at her like he expected the universe to hand-deliver her to him.
Grace paused right at his peripheral vision.
Just a half-step.
Just enough to make him think he mattered.
“That’s a damn nice pause,” Voodoo commented.
“Let her work,” Bones growled.
Dvorak’s voice carried faintly over her comm. Accented, confident, sleazy.
“Hey! Beautiful! Come up, have a drink!”
Grace tilted her head, sunglasses glinting, pretending like shemightconsider it.
That was all the bait he needed.
Dvorak moved to the stern, waving her closer like a man who’d never encountered consequences. “Come, come—don’t be shy!”
Grace’s smile was sweet enough to rot teeth. “Oh, I’m not shy.”
I almost choked on a laugh.
Over comms, Bones muttered, “I’m going to murder him.”
Voodoo: “You say that like it’s new.”
Bones: “He’s inviting her up.”
Me: “He thinks he’s winning.”
Bones: “He’s not.”
Grace drifted closer to the boat, stepping into the perfect sightline Voodoo had plotted. She tucked a stray curl behindher ear, lifted her chin, and looked up at Dvorak in a way that suggested she liked attention—but on her terms.
And the moment he stepped down onto the swim deck to meet her?—
Lunchbox struck.
A blur of motion beneath the water.
