He wouldn’t even notice she was gone.
Emberly stood in the shadows, breathing in the city, the smell of simmering oil and seasoned pork seeping out into the darkness, the scents of pastries fresh from the ovens of late-night bakeries, and even the savory treats of prego and the chouriço assado ablaze at a vendor across the square.The city sang after dark—music from local cafés, streetcars clanging, people laughing at nearby bistros.
“Calm down, Nim.I’m fine.”
Really.The shaking had stopped, mostly, and after a shower that loosened all the damp grime and potential crawlies from her hair and pores, she wasn’t lying.
Mostly.Because in her apartment right now was trouble.Big trouble.
What had she been thinking, inviting Steinbeck, the man who only complicated—that should probably be in all caps—her life, into her...well, herdomain?
Her secret flat.
Her safe space.
“Two months, Emberly.Two.Monthssince you went dark.I was out of my mind.”Nimue’s voice pinched tight and low, the way she got when life felt too big, when she had to find a way to corral it and reduce it to ones and zeros.To a computer program she could manipulate and control.The skills she’d acquired being a world-class white-hat hacker.
“I’m sorry.The Internet on the island cut out after the earthquake?—”
“Not an earthquake,” Nimue said, a little more calm in her voice.“A landslide triggered by an explosion on the island.I looked into it.”
Her sister was probably sitting on the porch of her beach house in Florida, the small cottage nestled in the seagrass and sand dunes, overlooking a silver-tipped ocean, the scent of salt in her shoulder-length brown hair.Dark freckles kissing her sandy-hued skin.And wearing a pair of cutoff jeans and a T-shirt that readsudo rm -rf /*.
“Right.Well, then I hopped on a yacht.It belonged to Declan Stone and, of course, was attacked by Russian pirates,” Emberly said as she walked toward a nearby food vendor.
“I don’t think I can hear this.”
“We got away—but then while I was rescuing Declan from Cuba?—”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve been held for the last month by the Russian Mafia.But I’m okay.Steinbeck rescued me.”
Silence.So long that—“Nim?”
“Steinbeck.Declan Stone’s bodyguard.The Navy SEAL from Krakow.The guy you left for dead?—”
“Yes, him.Okay.We sort of...became friends?”Yeah, that sounded weird, even to Emberly’s ears.
Nimue echoed it.“Friends?”
“I don’t know what we are,” Emberly said as the man at the prego counter nodded at her, holding a couple of greasy wrapped pregos in papo seco rolls, slices of cheese melting from the ends.She had popped in an earbud and now dropped her phone into her pocket, paid and took the sandwiches.“It’s a long story, but...listen, he rescued me.And he didn’t have to, so I guess, yes.Friends.”She garnished the sandwiches with mustard and garlic, then wrapped both of them in napkins and set them inside her backpack, along with the two cold bottles of pineapple Sumol.
“So now what?”
NowEmberly tried not to jump back into his arms, tried to put her head on straight and untangle the mess of this mission.“I still need to get Declan’s program.For all I know, the Russians have it, and if they don’t...well, it won’t be long before some rogue nation gets their hands on it and uses it for their own nefarious purposes.”
“Which means you need to develop the virus.”
“Yes.In other words, back to the mission.”
“And your next step?”
She sighed, waiting to cross the road.Lamplight puddled on the dark volcanic rock that lined the streets, and around her, from the cafés in the square, jazz spilled out, turning the night magical.
“I don’t know.My guess is that the program is still with Declan.Maybe back in Mariposa.Maybe somewhere else.”
The streetcar passed and the light changed, and she crossed the street, hugging the shadows as she walked up to her gated door.“I should have uploaded it directly to you when I broke into his safe on the island?—”
