Her head whipped around, and she glared at the man.Oh hell no. “When did we start communicating on a first-name basis, Mr. Webb?”
“I mean, Ms. Shoemaker, some of that information is?—”
“Confidential? Above my clearance level?” Her smile was cool, sharp. “Mr. Webb, I am the ESG Compliance Officer and Liaison for this entire operation. There is no information about environmental, social, or governance practices that is above my clearance level. If you have a problem with that, you’re welcome to call my father.”
The air between them felt charged. Marcus nodded tightly and backed out, closing the door behind him.
Riley called him back in. “Take your lunch and ashtray with you. And I’m going to remind you oncethat this is a no-smoking operation. I will report you if I see you smoking in off-limits areas.”
“Yeah. Got it,” Webb muttered as he gathered his things.
Alone again, Riley’s hand tightened briefly on the edge of her desk. She’d won that round, but beneath the surface, there was a tremor. The feeling was just enough to remind her she wasn’t immune to the ghosts people saw when they looked at her.
For the next two hours, she forced herself into the rhythm that had always been her anchor. Files were sorted. Computer passwords updated. Operational reports reviewed and annotated. The familiar cadence of analysis steadied her breath and her mind.
The longer she worked, the more the tension in her shoulders eased. The more she worked, she also remembered. She’dearnedthis seat. She’d fought for this authority. And no whispered judgment or skeptical glance could take that away.
The water processingstation lay twelve kilometers from the main compound, perched where the Senegal River met the Atlantic. On paper, it was aninnocuous site, but Riley’s eyes locked on the satellite images glowing on her monitor, and her pulse spiked.
It was less than three kilometers from where the cargo ship MV Calypso Queen had anchored for its “inspection” before the pirates boarded.
Her hands trembled on the edges of the desk. The coastline hadn’t changed. The rocky promontories jutted out like jagged teeth. The stands of mangrove trees cast the same restless shadows on the shallows. The same blue-green water stretched wide and endless.
You don’t have to do this,the voice whispered.Delegate the inspection. Find an excuse. Stay away from the water.
But even as the thought formed, Riley dismissed it. She hadn’t flown halfway around the world to hide in an air-conditioned office. She’d come here for two reasons: to prove to herself and her father that she could face her demons and to dig into the discrepancies she’d found in Bolivia and Indonesia.
Neither goal was achievable if she avoided the coast.
Her phone rang, the vibration rattling faintly across her desk. The caller ID froze her breath for a beat.
Talon.
She closed her office door, turned the lock with a soft click, and only then answered. “Hello, stranger,” she said, surprised at how normal her voice sounded, considering the way her pulse roared in her ears.
“Riley.” His voice—low, steady—rolled through the line, richer than she remembered from the few words they’d shared over a year ago. “Jesus, it’s good to hear your voice. How was the flight?”
Her throat felt tight. “Long. Bumpy. Full of people who stared at me like I was a circus act.” Her laugh was brittle around the edges. “But I made it.”
“How are you feeling? Really?”
It was such a Talon question—blunt and impossible to dodge. Over the past year, he’d become adept at hearing the truth buried under her practiced answers.
“Terrified,” she admitted quietly. “Angry that I’m terrified. Determined not to let it win.” She turned her chair toward the wide window, the glinting metal of the processing facility visible in the dying sunlight. “Actually … I think I’m doing okay. Better than okay, maybe.”
“Tell me.”
And so, she did. She told him about reclaimingher office, about Marcus Webb’s thinly veiled attempt to sideline her, about the orders she’d given that no one had dared ignore. As she spoke, the taut band around her chest eased.
“I gave orders today,” she said finally, the pride in her voice startling her. “Real orders to people who thought they could push me around. And they listened.”
“Of course, they did.” There was steel in Talon’s voice now, a fierce undercurrent that wrapped around her like armor. “You’ve always been brilliant, Riley. The fact that some assholes hurt you doesn’t change that.”
Her vision blurred unexpectedly, the sting in her eyes sharp but clean. “I think I’ve missed this. Talking to you, I mean. Really talking.”
“I missed it, too.” His voice softened, intimate in a way that threaded heat low in her stomach. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. In the same country, breathing the same air.”
“Same terrible, dusty, oppressive air,” she teased, but her lips curved.
