She opened for him, but her mind was whirring, half on his tongue and half on wanting to know what he’d learned. When he lifted, she sighed and leaned against his chest. "Is he …?" she began, then stopped, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.
"Gone," Talon said simply. "Permanently."
She glanced up at him. “Gone. Permanently. Those words carry multiple meanings.” Riley found herself hoping it was the less permanent variety of gone. The kind that involved moving to another location, not a shallow grave in the desert.
That made Talon smile and then chuckle. “He drove away, perfectly alive. He won’t be back, and Idon’t think he’ll make a move to inform his employer before we take action.”
"We? What do you mean? And what should I do now?" She leaned against him. She was utterly confused about the next step. “Wait, did you find out if he tried to kill me?”
“The accident was staged, but he had no idea it would be as dangerous as it turned out. I think he meant to scare you, not kill you.” Talon leaned forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “You’re shaking. I wish I could have stayed the night with you.”
She leaned into his embrace, basking in the feeling of being completely safe. “I’m okay now. I didn’t sleep well.” She looked up at him. “You would’ve been a wonderful distraction from the repeat of the barrels falling reel that kept playing in my mind.” She cocked her head. “But you didn’t answer me. What do you think I should do now?”
"Now," he said, his tone shifted, and he smiled viciously, "we set a trap."
Talon studiedRiley's face as he slid the documentation across the surface of the SUV’sconsole. He was watching for signs of panic or hesitation that might indicate she wasn't ready for what came next. What he saw instead was the kind of focused attention that came from someone who had already decided to see this through to its conclusion, whatever the cost.
The documents had arrived about ten minutes before he was to leave to meet with her. Ethan was having fun digging and had carefully curated intelligence gathered through methods Talon couldn’t explain. Shipment schedules pulled from encrypted databases, cargo routing information that should have been locked above her level within SMH, and weight logs that told stories their authors had never intended to share.
"We're going to let the load run," he explained, his finger tracing a route on one of the shipping charts. "A controlled shipment that looks like business as usual from the outside but gives us visibility into every step of their operation."
Riley bent over the papers, her hair falling forward to frame her face as she absorbed the information with the kind of systematic attention that had probably made her excellent at her job. Her brow furrowed as she processed the implications,and Talon found himself admiring the quick intelligence behind her analysis.
"And you're hoping they'll take the bait and pull the cargo they want," she said, looking up to meet his eyes.
"They will," he replied with the absolute certainty of a man who’d spent years studying human nature under the most extreme circumstances. "Whoever's pulling the strings is comfortable. They've been moving material without heat for months, maybe longer. You’ll call in sick. Flu or head cold, just as long as it sounds truthful. They’ll jump at the chance to move it without you being present. Success breeds confidence, and confidence breeds carelessness."
He pointed to another document, which showed the timing of previous suspicious shipments. "Look at the pattern. Every six to eight weeks, like clockwork. They're not just stealing random cargo. This is systematic, organized, and probably tied to specific demand cycles on the black market."
Riley nodded slowly, her finger tracing the same route his had followed moments before. "So, we're going to make them think this is another easy diversion. Give them a target too tempting to pass up."
"Exactly." Talon leaned back slightly, impresseddespite himself by how quickly she'd grasped the tactical situation. "But we need you to trigger it. An audit request. I have a template for you. ESG pressure to put logistics on edge and make them want to move fast before the paperwork can catch up."
He watched her process this and saw the moment she realized her role in the operation was keeping her away from the action. To her credit, she didn't flinch. “You want me to call in sick from my apartment and request an audit at the same time.”
"You’re in their space and making them nervous," he continued. "They see you as a threat that needs to be managed or a problem that needs to be solved before it gets out of hand.”
“With a random accident.” She rubbed her arms, and he moved closer to put his arm around her waist, pulling her in. He spoke to her as they rocked a bit.
“Yes, but that’s why you call in sick for the rest of the week. Hell, they might think they scared you enough that you’re afraid to come into work, but whatever the reason, they’ll think they have a reprieve from you in their business. That urgency will force them to accelerate their timeline, and rushing leads to mistakes."
Riley looked at him sharply, her blue eyes brightwith understanding and something that might have been excitement. "And I’m supposed to let this go? I can’t, you know. I won’t. I have to do something to bring their crimes to light."
The statement carried weight beyond its simple phrasing. She wasn't just asking for tactical instructions. She was volunteering for something that could destroy her career, her family relationships, and possibly jeopardize her life again. She was a civilian, a non-combatant, but she was ready to wage war.
But Riley wasn't exactly a civilian anymore, was she? She'd been baptized by fire on that ship and in that logistics yard. She’d looked death in the face twice and walked away with the kind of hard-earned wisdom that couldn't be taught in any training program.
"Oh, we have an idea for that step of the plan, but for now, we need you to call in sick, then give the order for that ESG audit," he said, his voice carrying the careful tone of a lover keeping his world out of the line of direct fire. "Submit a formal audit request for overseas shipping compliance.” He reached down and found the paper he was looking for. “Here, environmental impact assessments, carbon footprint calculations, the kind of bureaucratic nightmare that makes logistics managers break out in cold sweats."
He slid another document out of the stack, this one a template form that looked official enough to fool anyone who didn't look too closely at the letterhead.
"Make sure Vincent Harrow gets a copy directly. He is the direct connection to the US office and those complicit there. Don’t let it go through his secretary; send it to his direct email account. You want him to know that you're not just going through the motions. He needs to know you're serious about digging into every detail of their operation as soon as you’re well enough. That will scare them.”
Riley picked up the form, studying it with the kind of attention she might give to a loaded weapon. "And while I'm stirring up the hornet's nest …"
"My team will have eyes on every step of the chain," Talon finished. "Jug and Hammer will handle physical surveillance and track the cargo from the moment it leaves the warehouse until it reaches its final destination. My comms specialist will monitor electronic communications and look for coded messages or unusual activity in their data systems."
He paused, making sure she understood the scope of what they were attempting before continuing, "I'll have our newly minted SRF team positioned, ready to move if any portion of that convoydiverts. We'll be there to shut it down. Stryker, Wolf, and I will be with them."
