Page 125 of Heart of Frost and Scars

“What are we going to do?” she whispers, her breath warm against my lips.

“We’ll start by figuring out who sent those messages. I’ll learn what I can about the technology, see if it’s traceable. In the meantime, we’ll be careful, watchful. We won’t let them scare us into hiding.”

“I told Rhett I was ready to return to work.”

“Not until we know who’s threatening you.”

“But you just said—”

“We’re not hiding. Being careful means staying together. So unless I can shadow you at the hospital…”

“You can’t.” She looks like she might argue but instead asks, “What if it’s Monty?”

“I’ll go through his phone when he returns.”

“If he used a burner, he would’ve tossed it.”

I need a damn manual to explain burners, unknown numbers, and the inner workings of electronic communication.

“What did you tell Rhett?” I ask.

“He only knows what the media knows. When he started to leave, I panicked.” She sighs, a jagged, weary sound. “So I told him the truth. I’m afraid to be alone right now because of things that happened to me in the Arctic. I kept it vague, and he stayed without prying for details.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I couldn’t.”

Because a cowardly cunt-rag with a phone threatened our lives. Someone should tell that cunt that I’m the one to watch out for, the fangs in the shadows, the knife in the heart.

I’m coming for you, you dead motherfucking cunt.

“I hate feeling so helpless,” she murmurs. “I hate that someone out there has the power to send me into a panic attack. I used to be stronger than this.”

“There’s a limit to how many punches a person can withstand before they collapse. You’ve endured more hits than most people, and you’re still standing.”

“I’m quite horizontal at the moment.” She trails her toe along my calf. “Don’t think I can stand if I tried.”

“You’re not helpless. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“Tell me about your afternoon.” She rests a hand on my jaw, caressing my short beard. “The driving lessons and Tipsy Sailor. I want to hear everything.”

I give her the highlights from beginning to end, including all the ways I’m a better driver than Kody.

As I talk, her stress melts away under a tired smile. That smile lingers throughout my narration of the fawning women at the bar. She even laughs when I describe how Kody shut down Sirena.

But as I describe my favorite cars in Monty’s collection, exhaustion sets into her features, the fight in her eyes slowly losing to the pull of sleep.

Her eyelids flutter. Her breathing deepens. Despite her efforts, she succumbs to the rest her body desperately needs.

I want to step out and watch for Kody, but I won’t leave her alone.

“Sorry, love.” Carefully, I lift her in my arms, grab her phone, and carry her into the sitting room in the main cabin.

She startles awake for an evanescent moment before passing out again.

Her head rests against my chest as I settle onto the couch, holding her tightly, my heart clenching with vicious protectiveness.

Beyond the lapping of waves and occasional splash of jumping fish, the harbor is eerily quiet. Shadows play in the periphery, shifting with the yacht’s movement, keeping me on edge.

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