Tierney stared at the cell. “Something tells me, he’ll give us his coordinates when the time comes.”
Buck took the phone, shoved it in his pocket. He looked at Tierney, noting the dark smudges beneath her eyes. The way her hand trembled ever so slightly before she hid it in the front pocket of her hoodie.
He stared out at the rain, at the fog glowing beneath the lamplight, finally voicing what kept looping through his head. “So, does that mean the team wasn’t here to kill us? That they left the phone on purpose, and this was all some kind of test?”
Tierney shouldered up beside him. “Definitely a test. And an opportunity to deliver an invitation if we survived. The only question is, to what?”
Chapter Eight
Twenty-four hours.
That’s how long it had been since her world had exploded, and her past had come pouring out.
Tierney scrubbed her hand down her face, blinking back the fatigue that weighed on her shoulders like a curse. Rain still fell in sporadic bursts along the coast, more fog threading through the ancient spruce like ghostly fingers waiting to strike. The lighthouse flashed in steady pulses, the echoed moan of the foghorn wearing on her last nerve.
Low lights illuminated the main office, a scattering of takeout boxes and paper coffee cups heaped on the table. The HVAC hummed through the vents, blending in with the steady tap of Sloane typing on her keyboard as Buck’s team worked through the night in an effort to find something remotely tangible.
Tierney leaned back in her chair, staring at the phone sitting a few feet away.
There’d been nothing since the call last night.
Not a jingle. No vibration. Just the cell waiting on top of the table like a bomb even Buck couldn’t disarm.
She hated the silence even more than she hated hearing the bastard’s voice. A voice held weight. Had inflections and tones she could decipher.
The silence just settled over her, heavy and airless.
Buck slid into the seat beside her, shoving a cup of coffee her way. He didn’t speak, just placed his arm across the back of her chair, sipped the strong brew as if they were watching a sunset.
She loved that about him.
How he settled the air around her. Allowed her to breathe when it felt as if the walls were closing in. All it took was a touch, a smile, and the voices quieted.
At least the short break had given them both time to heal. Not in a long-term sense, but physically, neither of them looked as if they’d pass out at a moment’s notice. Even Dalton’s arm hadn’t bled through the butterfly strips in the past twelve hours.
Mentally, however…
She was strung tight, the unanswered questions rattling around inside her skull until she wanted to scream. And despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop replaying his voice. Hearing the snick-clink of the lighter as it had flashed in the dark. The suppressed crack of the bullet as it had dropped the man in the forest.
Buck squeezed her shoulder, tucking some hair behind her ear when she looked up at him. “Staring at the phone isn’t going to make it ring.”
“I know, but…” She sighed. “I hate waiting.”
He chuckled. “Most people do.”
“It’s because there aren’t any rules. He could call in a minute, an hour…” She tossed up her hand. “Next week. Even when I was in that cell, there were rules. Cruel, but it’s what kept me sane. Gave me hope that if I just figured out how to break them without breaking myself, I might have a chance. This…” She blew out a harsh breath. “This feels like a leash neither of us agreed to wear.”
Buck leaned into her, his chest brushing her arm, his lips caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to let him take you, again. Not while I’m still breathing. That’s the only rule you need to focus on.”
Her heart stopped.
Nothing but a dead weight in her chest because he meant it. That he’d die to keep her safe. Not that he hadn’t already proven it, but sitting there, his blue eyes fierce, his muscles primed for a fight, it hit her hard. And she knew she’d never be able to look at him without seeing the fire burning inside him.
The sheer determination not to let her down.
She traced his jaw with her thumb, torn between wanting to keep everything on the down low and wanting to kiss him. Buck smiled, got her heart pumping, again, as he closed the scant distance, planted a soft kiss on her lips before leaning back, shoving the mug into her hands.
He nodded at it. “Drink. Or better yet, let me get you some real food. You’ve barely eaten anything.”
