That touch burned me like a brand. And worse—I missed the warmth the second it was gone.
Get a grip, Reilly. Focus.
Heat pressed against the windows. Roy and Keeley flopped to the tile at our feet. The pozole simmered. The light slanted gold across the counters.
And even in this bright kitchen, surrounded by people who had every reason to distrust me, gooseflesh rose across my arms.
Because we all knew the truth now.
Willie had probably been silenced.
Which meant someone else was already watching—already moving.
And if Rios and I kept pushing, we might be next in their sights.
Nineteen
RIOS
I didn’t decide to go to her boat.
I woke with the haze of yesterday clinging to my brain—unprocessed adrenaline, a montage of Willie Sanders flipping like a slide show through my brain, the feel of Madden cautiously sagging into me, as if she’d never thought to have someone taking the weight, let alone trusted someone to actually do it.
By the time my brain kicked in, I was already showered, dressed, and had vaulted onto the deck of the Second Wind. The cabin was still dark, though sun peeked through the collection of masts around us. I considered turning around. A run would be more productive in burning off this edge. She wasn’t my business. I wasn’t her boyfriend, her brother, or her anything.
Except in this weird, convoluted way, we were temporary partners. And I couldn’t shake how she’d said, “I don’t remember,” when I’d asked when she’d last been hugged.
I knocked.
There was a long enough delay in response that by the time the door cracked open, my brain had already conjured a few dozen horrific scenarios where someone had sneaked aboard in the night and taken her as Priya had been taken.
Instead, Madden squinted out at me, hair flattened on one side, an oversized T-shirt with Minnie Mouse offering a flirty wave hanging off one shoulder, and the barest edge of sleep shorts peeking from beneath the hem. Her feet were bare, revealing toes painted a shockingly vibrant hot pink, and her eyes were puffy in a way that suggested she’d actually slept.
“Rios? What are you doing here?”
I refused to acknowledge the way that sleep-roughened voice felt like fingers stroking over my skin or all the ways that absurd and surprising Minnie Mouse t-shirt was improbably sexy.
“Making sure you eat. Get dressed. We’re going for breakfast.”
Her brows drew together. “Good morning to you too.”
“Morning.” I leaned a shoulder against the frame and tried not to look like I was gaging how many steps it was from this door to the berth she’d stumbled out of in the back. “Come on. Before the bakery line wraps around the block.” And before I do something that confirms my current insanity.
She just stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide if this was a hallucination or a kidnapping. “You don’t have to?—”
“Eat first,” I cut in. “Argue with me later.”
Something in her expression flickered. Not quite a smile. Not quite surrender. “Is this a Carrera thing?”
“Yes.” Right now it was sure as hell a me thing.
“Bossing people into meals?”
“Also, yes.”
She huffed a half laugh that did annoying things to my chest. “Five minutes.”
The door shut in my face.
