Jackie took a sip of her coffee. “Most women like her have a hard time letting anyone get close.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said, nibbling some banana bread crumbs.”
“You have to understand. For her, letting someone get close means being vulnerable. And being vulnerable gets people killed in our line of work.” She shrugged. “It just is what it is.”
“What should I do?” he asked, hopelessness crowding out reason.
“Be patient. Be steady and useful. Don’t make her feel like she has to protect herself from you too.”
He heard footsteps on the hardwood just before Siren turned the corner into the kitchen. She was wearing a tropical print sundress with spaghetti straps. Her hair was styled in soft waves around her shoulders. It looked like an outfit Holly or Ivy would wear. The contrast between how he’d seen her before and this had his mouth dropping in shock.
“Don’t,” she said pointedly, her sharp eyes like a blade.
“I didn’t…”
“You’re face did the talking.”
“You look… different. Gorgeous. I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to think.
Siren in dark jeans, leather, and aviator sunglasses did him in. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about her. Couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like for her to place her deadly hands on him. But seeing her in this feminine outfit, it was doing something crazy to his inner beast.
“You look really cute,” he finally managed.
“I look like someone who won’t get a second glance at a rest stop. Which is the point.”
“Right. It’s good cover. Very convincing.” He paused, barely able to look at her. “Sarah Phillips seems like a lovely woman. Very approachable.”
He stood, walking toward her slowly, like he couldn’t help himself. Her shoulders were bare and her hair looked so soft. His inner bear kept demanding he touch her, feel the smoothness of her pale skin.
Jackie broke the spell from behind him. “Reed, you already read as non-threatening. Just lean into it.”
Siren closed the distance between them and cupped his face in her hand. “Poor Michael. So harmless,” she said in a low voice, staring into his eyes.
“Maybe on the outside. But I’m a beast underneath,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What’s Garrett Cole actually like,” Siren said, turning her attention back to Jackie and breaking the spell.
Jackie crossed the room and sat at the kitchen table. “Paranoid. Well-armed. Not friendly. You need to remain on guard. I suggest you approach as Siren rather than Sarah.”
“Understood.”
“He’s also smart and connected. If anyone has information about which outfit is running these mercenary operations like the one you recorded, it’s him.”
After Siren packed up the rest of her new outfits, Jackie led them both outside through the sliding glass door in the kitchen. The afternoon had turned golden, the shadows lengthening across the property.
They took the short path down to the shop and Jackie rolled up the bay door to reveal a white camper van.
“The registration matches your IDs,” Jackie said. “Nevada plates. There’s a small kitchen, sleeping for two, storage underneath. You can cook inside, sleep inside, stay off the radar.”
“Let’s get loaded up,” Siren said, tossing Reed the keys to the SUV. “Drive it over, and we’ll transfer my gear.”
He did as he was asked. And the three of them began to move the hard cases into the van’s rear storage. They contained Siren’s tactical bags. The first aid kit. The camping equipment they’d used in the mountains.
He grabbed his backpack, duffel bag, and guitar case and transferred them to the van. Jackie handed the keys to Siren. She then looked at Reed.
“Remember what we talked about,” she said with a wink.
“I will.”
