Page 46 of Artifice
The sharp rocks of the abandoned lot bit into her bare feet. Olive kept pace.
She crouched low, moving from shadow to shadow with practiced stealth.
Simon’s movements mirrored her own—too practiced to be coincidental.
Whoever he really was, he’d had similar training.
They reached a cluster of storage containers stacked three high near the property’s edge. Simon led her behind them, then abruptly stopped. He pressed his back against the corrugated metal.
“Wait,” he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
Headlights swept across the main road as a black SUV with tinted windows rolled past. It slowed near her parked rental car, its high beams illuminating the vehicle.
Olive tensed. “My rental?—”
“Is now compromised,” Simon finished. “You won’t be going back for it tonight.”
The SUV continued down the road, disappearing around a bend.
But Olive knew the driver would circle back. Standard search pattern.
Simon gestured toward a narrow path leading to the water. “This way. Quick and quiet.”
She didn’t argue.
They slipped between two storage containers, following a steep trail that wound between boulders down to a rocky strip of shoreline. The crashing waves masked their movements, but the terrain was treacherous in the darkness.
Olive stumbled over loose stones, fighting to maintain her balance.
Simon steadied her with a hand on her elbow.
“Careful.” He pointed to a small dock hidden by an outcropping of rock. “There.”
Moored to the weathered planks was a small motorboat, rocking gently with the incoming tide.
“You planned this,” Olive accused.
“I planned an exit strategy,” he corrected. He stepped onto the dock and quickly untied the mooring lines. “Which is apparently more than you did.”
Olive hesitated.
Getting into a boat with a man she might not be able to trust wasn’t ideal. But the alternatives—being caught by armed guards or trying to hike miles back to town in high heels and a torn dress—seemed worse.
Besides, she did have a gun in case she needed it.
“Fine.” She carefully stepped onto the swaying floating dock.
Simon helped her into the boat. Then he pushed off, jumping in as it drifted free.
He pulled a key from his pocket and started the engine, keeping it at its lowest setting as they eased away from shore.
Only when they were a hundred yards from land did he open the throttle.
The boat cut through the choppy dark water as they headed along the coastline, parallel to shore but well beyond the reach of the warehouse’s security lights.
It was only then that Olive spoke.
“Who are you really?” Olive demanded over the engine’s hum.
