A knock at the door jarred me from my thoughts.
I ignored it. It was probably just someone lost on their way to the national park down the old highway.
Another knock. More insistent this time.
Sighing, I pushed myself to my feet; the movement sent a fresh spike of pain through my shoulder.Tabarnak. I crossed to the door and yanked it open.
Scarlett stood in the doorway, the evening wind pushing her brown hair around her face. What was she doing here?
“Car trouble,” she said before I could speak. “About fifteen minutes back.” She smiled, the same smile she’d used when covering for me after I’d punched Ryan Miller for calling her father a traitor. “You still hiding any Sortilège in the cupboards? I need a drink.”
The lie was so transparent it wasn’t worth pointing out. “You should walk back to your car and call roadside assistance.”
She ignored me, pushing past into the cottage with the ease of someone who’d crashed on that couch dozens of times. “My feet are killing me. I need to come in for a minute.”
I should have argued. Should have questioned why she was really here. But the energy required felt impossibly distant. Whatever game she was playing, I didn’t have the strength to stop it.
I closed the door, watching as she moved through the space, running her fingers along the back of the couch where we’d watched countless movies. She’d changed since I left for the military—more poised, more intentional in her movements.
More like her mother.
Her eyes landed on the disassembled gun as she slipped off her jacket, but her expression didn’t change. She merely draped the coat over the back of the antique rocking chair Brie had always curled up in when she’d visited.
“What do you want, Scarlett?”
She turned to face me, her smile fading to something more genuine. “Just to see an old friend. Is that wrong?”
“When that friend is in the middle of nowhere and didn’t invite you? Yes.”
She sank onto the couch, toeing her high heels off with a sigh. She should have chosen better shoes for her walk from the car. “I’m tired, Rav. It’s late, and it was a long drive.” She patted the space beside her. “Come sit with me for a bit.”
I remained standing, studying her. This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone had sent her—but who? And why? “Why are you out driving in this area at night?”
“Please?” she added, her voice softening.
I’d never been able to say no to her. After tossing a few more logs onto the fire, I sat on the couch, leaving some space between us.
“Did Declan tell you we’re working for my mother now?” she asked, as though picking up a thread we’d been discussing for hours.
I said nothing, waiting for her to get to the point.
“Reynolds Recoveries,” she continued. “She started it after Declan and I graduated. Emmett’s part of it, and Will and Brie are part-time for now.” She angled her body toward mine. “You remember I told you about those bizarre family vacations Mum took us on to Europe when we were in high school? Having us figure out escape plans and how we’d get past security and steal the Crown Jewels?”
Evelyn had always seemed a little odd, as though she were pretending to be a doting mother, but with deep and darksecrets. I’d thought of her now and then since joining JTF2, given some of the conversations I’d had with members of the intelligence community.
“What about it?” I asked.
“I think it was training for this company she’s started. We help people.” She held my gaze. “We find things that matter to our clients. Things they’ve lost, sometimes in complicated circumstances. You’d fit in perfectly with us.”
“I’m in the military,” I lied. “I already have a job.”
“Are you?” She cocked her eyebrow, clearly not believing me.
I looked away.
“We could use someone with your skills,” she said carefully. “Your ability to read situations. Assess risks.”
“My skills.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I have a busted arm and a tendency to miss threats right in front of me.”
