Page 116 of Without a Trace
Zekes attention flicked over to me like a file drawn across steel.
I walked to the table, every step measured, my gaze daring someone to challenge that I sat down at the head—without being asked.
“I like this vibe,” I said, crossing one leg over the other reaching for a glass of wine. “Secret hideouts with five-star service. Real cozy.”
Rhett grinned. “You clean up alright.”
Kane chuckled. “She doesn’t clean up. She just arrives and wrecks the place prettier.”
Trace poured more wine.
Alden finally raised his glass. “To surviving another day.”
Zeke raised his. “And to whatever the hell’s coming next.”
I held up my glass and smiled.
I curled one leg beneath me and sipped slow, watching the way their bodies shifted every time I moved.
Kane was halfway through a story about a gas station pickup line gone wrong when Rhett started choking on pineapple.
“She was a cop,” Rhett wheezed. “With a record.”
“Allegedly,” Kane muttered, tossing a grape at him. It hit Zeke’s plate with a dull thud. Zeke didn’t even flinch.
I leaned in, resting my chin on my hand. “Your best line, Rhett?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Are you a fight club? Because I’d let you ruin me and never speak of it again.”
Kane groaned. “Someone cut his mic.”
I laughed, head tipping back. The wine burned soft and low through me, the candlelight bleeding into everything.
“Your turn,” I said, pointing my glass at Alden.
“I don’t use lines, Love.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“Confidence,” he said flatly.
“Arrogance,” I returned.
Zeke still hadn’t spoken. His gaze hadn’t wavered, either. Every time I moved, he tracked it. Like I was a live wire, and he was waiting for the shock.
Plates were nearly bare now—fish bones, fruit rinds, and streaks of heat left behind. The candles flickered harder as the wind picked up, storm-scent curling in from the water’s edge.
Kane leaned back with a grunt, stretching. “This wasn’t how I pictured lockdown.”
I raised a brow. “What did you picture?”
“Something with fewer secrets,” he muttered. “And less damn humidity.”
Rhett cracked a smile. “Definitely didn’t expect training sessions before breakfast and mystery threats before dinner.”
I tilted my wine glass in his direction. “You’re not here for comfort.”
“No,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “We’re here for you.”
