I took that as a win.
As I waited, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I fished it out and spotted a text from Overwatch. I hadn’t put anyone in my contacts under that name and assumed Dax had added it himself. If the name hadn’t given me a clue, the content certainly did.
Overwatch:
Dug through texts and emails. No evidence of harassment, threats, or pressure. If someone was leaning on her, they were careful—or it wasn’t happening digitally.
So we were no closer to an answer than we had been before. My gut told me Priya wasn’t being harassed. If she had been, there’d have been a sign somewhere. Instead, we’d found nothing. So either the girl had nerves of steel, or we were barking up the wrong tree. Which would imply her disappearance was about something else.
But what?
Madden came back faster than I would’ve guessed, hair pulled up into a twist that managed to appear both efficient and entirely casual, jeans hugging long legs, a soft gray tank under a light cardigan that wouldn’t last ten minutes in the July humidity. Sunglasses perched on top of her head, purse over her shoulder.
“All right, Captain Bossy,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Captain was Gabi’s rank fantasy for me, not mine,” I muttered as we stepped onto the dock.
A corner of her mouth kicked up. “You let her call you that?”
“You try telling my sister no when she’s got a head of steam.”
“I’ll pass.”
I kept my mouth shut about what Dax had sent as we walked in step down the dock, toward the path that led to the boardwalk. Boats bobbed around us, halyards pinging against masts, and gulls wheeled overhead, already on the lookout for careless tourists with morsels to snatch. The news could wait until I’d plied her with coffee.
I had every intention of heading toward Panadería de la Isla. Best conchas this side of anywhere, and their coffee could revive the dead. But as we hit the main boardwalk, something else snagged my attention.
A shadow that didn’t quite belong.
I clocked it in the reflection of a shop window first—a slim figure in a ball cap and sunglasses half a block back, moving when we moved. Could be nothing. Plenty of people walked the boardwalk in the morning. Nothing overtly off, but my hackles rose nonetheless.
We stepped past another storefront, and I caught the reflection again, this time in the side mirror of a scooter parked at the curb. Same guy. Same distance.
Again, could be nothing. He could be headed to the bakery same as us, and that still wouldn’t be weird. But something in his body language pinged my radar.
Without thinking about it, I slid my hand to the small of Madden’s back, steering her gently but firmly away from the bakery turn and down the side street instead.
She stiffened at the touch. “I thought we were?—”
“Change of plans.” I lowered my head like I was aiming for her ear—which, technically, I was—and let my mouth brush close enough to feel the faint shiver of her breath. “We’ve got a tail. Eyes forward.”
She stilled under my hand.
“Are you serious?” she murmured.
“Yeah. Skinny guy, cap, sunglasses. Been behind us since just past the marina. Haven’t seen his face yet.”
“And you decided the appropriate response was to get all cozy?” Damn if that dry sarcasm didn’t make me want to grin.
“If he thinks we’re paying more attention to each other than our surroundings, he’s less likely to spook.” I let my arm slide more fully around her waist, pulling her into my side like this was a morning stroll with my girlfriend instead of evasive maneuvers. “Plus, it makes it easier for me to glance over your shoulder.”
She hooked her own finger in my belt loop. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Professionally,” I lied.
Because the truth was, for all the tension, for all the bad possibilities, I was dangerously aware of the way she fit against me. The heat of her body through that thin tank, the clean scent of her skin—soap and something citrus, like she’d somehow bottled a shower in the five minutes she’d been inside.
Focus, Carrera.
