heart, she rushed into a store. The thick tobacco smoke and stale scent of a convenience shop strangled her. She hustled down one aisle and up another, weaving farther into the shop and out of sight. From behind a rack of books, she peeked out the word-painted window. He stalked past, chomping into a mango.
What are you doing, you big oaf?
A man at the front of the aisle cut off her view. Hands at his side, he frowned at her. Shiloh apologized and hurried back outside, anxious not to lose the big guy. A sea of bodies swarmed around her.
Not again. Where was he? She probed the throng of white and tan tunics and pants and spun around. Not behind her. She jogged forward. He couldn’t have disappeared that fast. She expected him to leap out at her from a stoop just ahead, but instead she only found the barrenness of a boarded-up shop. A frustrated groan worked its way up her throat despite her best attempts to squash it. She’d trailed him for twenty minutes— only to lose him.
Fine. Enough games. Time to find out who he was and how he knew so much about her. Once more she scanned the crowds for his face before plunging her hand into her backpack. Game over. She withdrew the phone he had given her and flipped itopen. Irritation ripped at her as she pressed the talk button and started the trek back toward Jail Street.
“Miss Blake.”
Her heart skipped a beat when his deep voice boomed through the phone.
8
F URY NEVER LOOKED SO BEAUTIFUL.
“Don’t you know it's not nice to follow people?” Reece chuckled when the line went dead. He slid the phone back into his pocket and leaned against the door, watching as Shiloh stomped toward Princess Street.
Once she blended into the crowd, he stepped from the stoop and headed back to his bike. Did she seriously think he didn’t know she was tailing him? He’d wanted to laugh when he switched directions, sending her spiraling into a convenience store. She had a few things to learn, but he had to hand it to her, she had guts.
Disappointment stuck to him the way the Indian heat glued his jacket to his back. He knew she’d call. Man, he almost felt let down to have her pegged so accurately. He liked a little surprise every now and then. Or maybe it was that he had hoped she would prove him wrong—show herself smarter than most. He’d expected a lot more from Jude Blake's daughter. With a quick glance at his watch, he … stopped.
No. He tapped the crystal of his watch as he stalked to his motorcycle. It wasn’t possible.
He slumped against the hull of his Ducati Monster, staring down the busy, jumbled chaos of the street. Maybe he was wrong. He double-checked the time. Maybe the watch was wrong. He tugged out his phone and scrolled the incoming calls.
Jaw out, he grunted. One-fifteen. Who would have guessed she’d hold out this long? Reece stared at the fiberglass body under him. His off -the-cuff bet with himself taunted him. I’ll give her my bike.
He palmed the black fairing of his bike. Get a grip. She didn’t even know about his private wager. No worries. The bike was still his.
When was the last time someone had outwitted him? The thought agitated, yet excited him. He admired the fact that she’d thought she could play his game. One thing was certain—he wouldn’t underestimate her again. After spotting her at that café—her ivory complexion a stark contrast against a tapestry of olive—he’d let her play cat and mouse with him.
His phone buzzed again. Was she that easy to play? One corner of his mouth curled, but his good mood fled at the ID. “Go ahead.”
“The meeting is set.”
He straddled the Monster and stuffed the key in the ignition. “When?”
“One hour.”
“One—” Reece stopped short. “Toby, that doesn’t give me time to prep your guy.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Abdul didn’t give me a choice. He's leaving the country tomorrow on a business trip.” Toby huffed. “I’m sending a car to your shack right now.”
Phone in
What are you doing, you big oaf?
A man at the front of the aisle cut off her view. Hands at his side, he frowned at her. Shiloh apologized and hurried back outside, anxious not to lose the big guy. A sea of bodies swarmed around her.
Not again. Where was he? She probed the throng of white and tan tunics and pants and spun around. Not behind her. She jogged forward. He couldn’t have disappeared that fast. She expected him to leap out at her from a stoop just ahead, but instead she only found the barrenness of a boarded-up shop. A frustrated groan worked its way up her throat despite her best attempts to squash it. She’d trailed him for twenty minutes— only to lose him.
Fine. Enough games. Time to find out who he was and how he knew so much about her. Once more she scanned the crowds for his face before plunging her hand into her backpack. Game over. She withdrew the phone he had given her and flipped itopen. Irritation ripped at her as she pressed the talk button and started the trek back toward Jail Street.
“Miss Blake.”
Her heart skipped a beat when his deep voice boomed through the phone.
8
F URY NEVER LOOKED SO BEAUTIFUL.
“Don’t you know it's not nice to follow people?” Reece chuckled when the line went dead. He slid the phone back into his pocket and leaned against the door, watching as Shiloh stomped toward Princess Street.
Once she blended into the crowd, he stepped from the stoop and headed back to his bike. Did she seriously think he didn’t know she was tailing him? He’d wanted to laugh when he switched directions, sending her spiraling into a convenience store. She had a few things to learn, but he had to hand it to her, she had guts.
Disappointment stuck to him the way the Indian heat glued his jacket to his back. He knew she’d call. Man, he almost felt let down to have her pegged so accurately. He liked a little surprise every now and then. Or maybe it was that he had hoped she would prove him wrong—show herself smarter than most. He’d expected a lot more from Jude Blake's daughter. With a quick glance at his watch, he … stopped.
No. He tapped the crystal of his watch as he stalked to his motorcycle. It wasn’t possible.
He slumped against the hull of his Ducati Monster, staring down the busy, jumbled chaos of the street. Maybe he was wrong. He double-checked the time. Maybe the watch was wrong. He tugged out his phone and scrolled the incoming calls.
Jaw out, he grunted. One-fifteen. Who would have guessed she’d hold out this long? Reece stared at the fiberglass body under him. His off -the-cuff bet with himself taunted him. I’ll give her my bike.
He palmed the black fairing of his bike. Get a grip. She didn’t even know about his private wager. No worries. The bike was still his.
When was the last time someone had outwitted him? The thought agitated, yet excited him. He admired the fact that she’d thought she could play his game. One thing was certain—he wouldn’t underestimate her again. After spotting her at that café—her ivory complexion a stark contrast against a tapestry of olive—he’d let her play cat and mouse with him.
His phone buzzed again. Was she that easy to play? One corner of his mouth curled, but his good mood fled at the ID. “Go ahead.”
“The meeting is set.”
He straddled the Monster and stuffed the key in the ignition. “When?”
“One hour.”
“One—” Reece stopped short. “Toby, that doesn’t give me time to prep your guy.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Abdul didn’t give me a choice. He's leaving the country tomorrow on a business trip.” Toby huffed. “I’m sending a car to your shack right now.”
Phone in
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