Page 53 of Christmas Harbor Secrets
Blake smiled again, faint and unreadable. “We’ll discuss that when we’re underway. For now, we need to move. The longer we float here, the better the chance Laurel Tide finds you. You need to come with us.”
Rone didn’t move. His silence stretched long enough that even the waves outside seemed to wait.
Isobel’s pulse climbed higher, faster. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong.
Finally, Rone’s voice broke the quiet. “You came without a team. Without backup.”
“Just us,” Blake said, stepping closer. “Because I couldn’t risk chatter.”
Rone’s jaw ticked. “That’s not how you work.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed—just a sliver. “You don’t know how I work anymore.”
The moment hung suspended, taut as wire.
Isobel’s fingers curled into her palms. Her pulse pounded so loud it filled her ears, drowning the creak of the deck and the whisper of the tide.
She didn’t trust Blake. She didn’t trust the stillness.
And when she glanced at Rone—really looked—she realized he didn’t either.
Rone didn’t buyany of it.
Not the rescue. Not the calm swagger. Not the faint, brotherly smirk Blake wore like armor. He stood, body angled slightly toward Blake, his hand loose at his side—but ready. Always ready.
“You told me to meet you at Coya Costa,” Rone said. His voice came out steady, but his pulse wasn’t. “You said you were assembling a team.”
Blake’s mouth curved, half amused, half dismissive. “Relax, brother. That was the point.”
Rone’s jaw flexed. “The point?”
“I needed you to take the bait.” Blake stepped closer, bracing one gloved hand against the bulkhead as though this were just another day, another op. “That island? I had one of my undercover agents plant the tracker there at great risk to his cover. He’s been in Laurel for years, trying to take down the organization. He had to pry that tracker from the mouth of your friend’s dog. Strange animal, that one. Almost blew the whole setup.”
A muscle in Rone’s cheek twitched. “Echo.”
Blake nodded. “That’s the one. Smart mutt, just a little too loyal for his own good. I figured if you saw the signal at the same locale as extraction, you’d do what you always do—go off-grid, take the trawler away from shore, and try to play the lone hero.”
Rone’s stomach went cold. He hated how right Blake sounded, hated that his brother still knew his patterns.
“So what?” he asked, voice low. “You used a tracker to smoke me out?”
Blake’s expression barely shifted. “I needed to make sure Laurel Tide believed you were running for Coya Costa. They’ve got eyes everywhere on the mainland. Once you went dark, it was only a matter of time before they came sniffing. We just had to find you first.”
“By sneaking up on us in the middle of the night with rifles.”
Blake shrugged. “Would you rather I knocked?”
Rone’s hand curled into a fist against his thigh, the burn bandage tugging as the movement pulled at the skin beneath. His instincts screamed that none of this added up. Blake was too calm. Too polished. Every sentence was crafted to sound reasonable, and that alone made it dangerous.
Behind him, he could feel Isobel’s eyes boring into him. He didn’t dare look back. Couldn’t. Because if he did, he’d see the question written all over her face.Can you trust him?
And he didn’t have an answer.
Blake’s tone softened, but not enough to sound human. “You’ve always been like this, Rone. Too noble for your own good. That’s why I knew I’d have to come in person. Because based on the way you feel about that woman…”
Rone’s throat locked.
“…it’s a good thing I did. You wouldn’t have let her die. You’d have given your own life to save her.”
