carry around the daggers. We have rules.”
“When will you capture the humans who tried to kill Starr?”
Bob squinted.
“Kill Starr Langley?” Ryerson chuckled and opened his hands. “There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding. Until I received a message from your lovely head matchmaker, Dannika Evers, I wasn’t even aware you were coming. Most visitors to my floating city come on the regular supply ships. If only you had done so, I would have personally taken care of you.”
And why did that make her shiver? “The next supply ship was going to arrive too close to the grand opening.”
“Ah, but it departed early. And the grand opening has been pushed back as you must know.”
Starr kept her tone neutral. “I didn’t want to wait.”
“I could have arranged a flight. Or at least a more reliable boat.”
“Reliable boat?” Bob held up his hand. “Who are you, and what are you all talking about?”
Ryerson glanced at his assistant, then tapped his fingertips together. “With the burden of deadlines to complete my city, I didn’t want to overwhelm you with rumors. I only know what I was told.”
“Which is?”
Ryerson looked at Starr.
“I’m here to check your network,” she said.
“The dropped calls?” Bob’s weather-beaten face formed a permanent sour frown. “I reported it. Nobody told me about you.”
She shrugged. He wasn’t her employer. “My charter boat lost power. Then overnight, it lost the captain and crew.”
“A tragedy all around.” Ryerson folded his hands over his belly. “You should have told me you were coming, and I would have arranged everything.”
“They left a crate of peanuts behind,” she said. “I’m deathly allergic.”
Bob tsked. “You’re one of those.”
“I am. And the charter company knew it.”
“That is…” Ryerson’s face reddened, and he cleared his throat. “Quite bad luck.”
“Quite,” she agreed. “But I survived, and here I am.”
“Here you are. Yes, well, if only you had come on the supply ship.” He curled a fist around the back of his chair. “It’ll depart tomorrow. That’s reliable transportation back to the mainland. Unless you intend to stay for the grand opening?”
“The network problems won’t solve themselves.” Most likely.
“Didn’t you lose your equipment?”
“That just means I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
“How resourceful.” Ryerson sat, picked up his roll again, and spread a pat of butter on it. The other two men remained standing. “I’d invite you to breakfast, but it sounds like I’d kill you. The guest cottages aren’t quite finished, but never fear. We’ll find a place for you to stay.”
His assistant leaned down to murmur something in his ear.
Ryerson held up his butter knife to silence his assistant. “Bob Haskins will find a place for you to stay.”
The assistant straightened. His expression was unreadable, and the light reflected off his square glasses, hiding his eyes.
Bob wrinkled his nose.
“After you freshen up, I’ll give you the grand tour. You must appreciate the beauty of the first-ever floating city that my second-generation company, Ryerson Deep Water Construction, has brought to glorious fruition.”
She didn’t want to go off with this man. “I’m here to work. I don’t need a tour.”
“Nonsense. You must see the dream in reality. Bob Haskins?”
The site manager sighed heavily, grabbed his orange coat, and shrugged it on. “This way. But you’re leaving those blasted eye pokers, or you’ll be sleeping with the fishes. Your choice.”
Bob led them out of the glass pyramid, past the floating saucers, and around the outer oval. The wind was back, blowing hard, but the walls provided a little shelter. A solid layer of cement coated the metal scaffolding.
“Ouch.” She stopped and pulled a sharp rock out of her instep.
Bob didn’t slow down.
Gailen handed his trident to Isag, scooped her under her butt, and lifted her, pressing her against his waist. “The ground is rough.”
“Yeah.” She grabbed his torso.
His biceps flexed like iron.
Her heart thudded. “Thanks.”
He tipped his head but kept his gaze out, over the water, watching for hidden enemies.
Where the oval connected to the original oil rig, waves crashed and sprayed her. Gailen hopped from the oval to the metal grating of the rig and followed Bob inside.
Bob gestured down a set of stairs. “You know where the pokers go.”
The other two warriors descended, and the ceilings were so low, Gailen let her down to stand beside him. The tight quarters of the old rig were a lot different from the spacious, elegant new construction. The scaffolding was dingy, and the cream paint on the walls was stained with rust. The warriors returned with one dagger each, sheathed to