Page 109 of Salvaged Hearts

“It’s beautiful,” Greyson said, startling me as he came up behind me, wrapping me up in a hug and nuzzling into my neck. “She’sbeautiful,” he amended, resting his chin on my shoulder as he looked up to the portrait of Izzie clamped onto my easel. All I could do was nod.

“Anything?” I breathed.

“Obsidianhas gone to ground, according to tech. Nothing on the Izzie front for us or EBPD.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence.”

“I know,” he breathed matter-of-factly. Grey never doubted me once. Never pressed back on my suspicions.

“I can’t shake the feeling she was warning us.”

“I know.” He pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before straightening and stepping in front of my stool to cup my face in his hands, forcing me to meet those fiery hazels. “But you have to come downstairs and eat. I didn’t see you stop for lunch today. Or yesterday, for that matter. And a banana hardly constitutes as breakfast.”

“I’m fine.”

“Alice, baby. I know this weighs heavy—believe me, I do. But it is not your fault. Hell, it isn’t my fault.Thunderstrikeis in full-scale counterattack mode, and we don’t even have proof she understood what she’d stumbled into. Not everyone is convinced the two are related.” My phone buzzed, cutting off the music, and we both turned to see Max’s name across the screen. Greyson glanced at me and then stretched over to accept the call. “Evening, Max, what do you have?”

“Well, how do you do to you too, Hart.”

A watery laugh cracked my face into a smile. “Hey, Maxi. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, thanks,manners. Work has been chaotic; big Jake has gone mic-happy with the town arm wrestling match again this year, Luca Morretti asked me to dinner, and your accounts still appear secure.”

Brow furrowed, Greyson clarified, “So, whatever transfer occurred at the auction didn’t touch us directly?”

“Or it wasn’t monetary,” Max agreed. “From what I can tell, still no movement on the dark web, although if they’ve caught onto us, I might start from scratch in the next day or so.”

“What about Izzy?” Grey pressed, his eyes roving over my drawing.

“She was a ghost, man. No detectable ties, although if she was a victim, there wouldn’t be.”

“Keep me apprised of any changes.”

“Obviously,” Max said in his best impression of Alan Rickman.

“Wait,” I interjected as Grey went pensive. “Max, did you say you’re going out with Luca Moretti?”

“I may have slipped that under the radar.”

Well, that at least made me smile. He’d had a crush on the kid back in high school, but his older brother stood Elora up for prom, and then they became public enemy number one. He’d never taken his chance at happiness. “Wow, long time coming.” Even my ears could tell the words were flatter than he deserved. “Hope you have a great night. Don’t take any of that Moretti bullshit.”

“Never,” he said triumphantly. “Alright, love birds, I gotta run. Just wanted to keep you posted on the whole lot of nothing on my end.”

“Thanks, Max,” we responded in unison.

“Love you,” I added sadly. I missed him. Missed home. Everything suddenly felt glaringly out of place. Predominantly, this small-town Alaska girl with her nose in mercenary business and murder.

“Love you, too, menace. Keep your chin up. But…be safe, okay?” He took a long breath, and if it was anybody but Max, I’d be suspicious that he was hiding something. “Night guys.”

When the line disconnected, Greyson tugged me off my stool and to my feet, promptly whisking me into his arms. “Come on, beautiful, let me make you something to eat.”

I raised a teasing brow as I reared back. “You’regoing to make me something to eat?”

“Hey, dumping prepped food in a saucepan counts.”

“Just impressed you know the word saucepan, though I assure you it wasn’t designedto reheat entire meals.” Giggling, I let him tuck me under his arm and lead me downstairs. Commotion caught my attention as we stepped off the bottom step and I glanced toward his office—which had transformed into an impromptu war room—where Jax was leading a meeting with a handful of their guys. All ex-military, all tragically good-looking if you were into scars, tattoos, and militantly tight hair. The idea of theObsidianweb moving this close to their home turf had the guys up in arms. Literally.

My dumb ass thought I could handle this. Loving him when I knew he was tangled in something dangerous. But knowing he wasfundinga campaign against traffickers and seeing him bent over the desk, glaring at the white boards littered with information with death in his eyes, surrounded by beefy mercenaries, certainly put my assumptions into perspective and?—

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