Page 50 of Convict's Game
Her gaze settled on someone further inside, not yet visible to us on our approach to the doorway.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
A darker voice I didn’t recognise provided the answer, his accent Scottish. “No one ye want to mess with, flower girl.”
At my side, Mila wilted in relief.
The woman reddened and turned, spotting us and making way. “I’ll go find Dixie until you’re free, Shade.”
She left and we entered. Behind the desk, Shade was holding court, Tyler and the unknown male on the right-hand side of the room. He was a big fucker. At least six-five, and with his arms restrained behind him, presumably zip tied.
The man Mila had risked everything to save was here, and I was suddenly wondering how good he’d look with a black eye.
Mila took a short inhale and skittered over to him, throwing her arms around the restrained man’s chest.
I watched like a hawk. On the phone, Tyler had asked if he should tell the prisoner who we were and who’d sent us to rescue him. I said no. I wanted to witness the moment he laid eyes on Mila.
“Who was that?” Tyler asked with a head tilt to the door.
I could’ve been relieved that someone else asked after the flower woman, as I’d assumed I’d forgotten her, but my focus was all on the fucking hug.
“Are you okay?” Mila asked in a whisper to the man.
He didn’t lean into her. Though there was familiarity, he only appeared annoyed. “Fine. Thought ye were fucking dead.”
Shade answered Tyler. “Lovelyn, Detective Dickhead’s daughter. He’s avoiding us after his shite about Convict being dead. Apparently he sent her to do his dirty work tonight.”
Mila stepped back and looked the prisoner over, tears lining her eyes. “The last I saw of you, Salter had a knife to your throat. I imagined all things. This is all my fault. I should have never asked for your help.”
“They jumped me. I should’ve seen it coming but I was distracted. It is not your fault.”
Mila shook her head and turned to Tyler. “Can you let him go?”
The team leader glanced at me, and I took the hint. We didn’t know anything about this man. For all I knew, he could’ve orchestrated the mess Mila was in.
I moved to stand in front of him. “Who are you?”
He took me in, same as I was doing to him, his focus homing in on the skeleton crew skull on my t-shirt. “Someone more important to Mila than ye, arsehole.”
I lifted an eyebrow. Already, he’d clocked my interest in Mila and was trying to use it against me. “Let’s be clear. We extracted you because my woman asked it of me. Nothing more.”
He snorted. “Your woman? That true, Mils?”
Fucking. Nickname.
She lifted her chin. “Don’t be a jerk, Kane. Just tell him what he wants to know, then they’ll set you free.”
Kane returned his gaze to me. “I know of the skeleton crew. Never thought my sister would associate with your type, but it’s her funeral.”
Sister. He was her brother? They had nothing in common. The man was dark in all the ways she was fair. His skin tone a deep olive, his brown hair cropped to military short, his eyes grey to her pale green. Though Deadwater was on the border of Scotland and England, families didn’t tend to be split in accents,and where she was short and curvy, he had thick muscles and was twice her size. I couldn’t have picked them out of a lineup if I tried.
Something ticked over in his vision. “She didn’t tell you that. No pillow talk on family history, then?”
He was so controlled in his manner. His posture, too. He stood tall but with his muscles loose and ready.
Did I believe him? For all I knew, ‘sister’ had been already agreed as a cover.
I folded my arms. “You’re military?”
