“Test it how?”
“Feed the leak different bait through different channels. See who bites.” She moved past him to the narrow window slit, gathering her hair into a knot and wrapping the band around it. Practical. Precise. “We keep cover. We work local. And we don’t hand anyone the match.”
He almost said something about matchheads and generators but let it go. “We know Laurel Tide doesn’t need to be on to us to scare us off since that’s historically been their MO.”
“Rigging a generator isn’t a warning, it’s murder.” She gave him a look over her shoulder and sauntered away. Always having to have the last word with him. “Get some sleep.”
He lay down on the berth without taking off his boots and closed his eyes. He didn’t sleep. Not really. He drifted in that shallow place where every hinge squeak and water slap is a tripwire. When the world outside finally softened toward gray, the first seagull of morning carved a line through the mist, and the boat exhaled like it had been holding the bay off all night.
“Switch,” Vivian said. Her voice had that hoarse edge dawn puts on people.
He pushed up on one elbow. “Anything?”
“Someone moved on the main pier around four-thirty. Too dark to see features. Height, maybe six foot. Efficient gait.” She handed the thermos back and made a face. “Still awful.”
“Coffee should offend you a little or it won’t keep you awake,” he said, and her mouth twitched before she bit it back.
It was almost a smile.
Almost.
CHAPTER THREE
The hours bled togetheruntil fatigue pressed behind Vivian’s eyes like sand. The cabin was thick with stale coffee and damp air, the kind that made her muscles twitch even when she sat still. She could feel the soft thumps of Blake pacing the narrow space, the quiet clink of metal when he checked his weapon for the fourth time.
“Stop,” she murmured without looking up.
The sound cut off. Silence followed, sharp enough to hear the sea breathe against the hull.
He entered the cabin and leaned against the bulkhead, shadow slicing across his face. “You trying to give orders now?”
“Trying to keep you from wearing a groove in the floor. You might sink us.”
Vivian sat up and poured herself another capful of bitter coffee. “We need to talk.”
He didn’t answer, which was an answer.
She exhaled through her nose, slow. “You’ve been circling Maddox since Christmas Cove. What really makes you not trust him specifically?”
Blake pushed off the wall, his movements fluid, too deliberate to be relaxed. “You ever get tired of baiting me?”
“Only when it doesn’t work.”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, something darker. “I don’t trust anyone who plays both sides of a mission.”
The words landed sharp enough to sting. Her pulse stumbled. “Meaning?”
“You know what I mean.” His gaze found her, steady, unflinching, the kind that stripped skin and left nerve. “You chose the order over me. Don’t act surprised that I have trust issues.”
Her breath caught before she could mask it. The air in the cabin felt thinner, pressing in. “That wasn’t a choice. That was a command.”
“Same thing when you follow it.” He said it quietly, but it hit harder than a shout.
Vivian turned away, focusing on the condensation streaking the porthole where dawn tried—and failed—to burn through. Her reflection in the glass looked pale and distant.
“You think I don’t regret it?” she asked. “I know I burned our last op, but it also let us walk out alive.
Blake’s silence said enough. He didn’t move closer, and the space between them carried heat.
