Her face paled as she pointed at the high-tech bug. “When you activate that thing and let them know we’re here, what are our chances of survival?”
Fifty-percent chance. Sixty, if he was feeling cocky. Which he wasn’t. But he wouldn’t share those odds with her. This was her first job as a Freedom Fighter, and her fear was palpable, trembling through her willowy limbs.
Nevertheless, she wanted to be part of this. She was committed to the team. More specifically, she was committed to Tomas, one of their longest-standing members.
“You know this is dangerous.” He crossed his arms.
Standing over the table, she braced her hands on the surface and leaned in. “A plan that isn’t dangerous isn’t a plan at all. You can’t scare me away.”
She wasn’t wrong. A few months ago, she drove here alone, with a pocketful of audacity and a reckless plan to meet Tomas Dine, fully aware he was a criminal, a murderer, and livid enough with her to shoot her on the spot.
Her chance of survival had been closer to zero then. Yet here she was, alive, in love with the ruthless vigilante, and ready to fight another fight.
Cole should’ve kissed her when he had the opportunity. Four months ago, here in the kitchen while Tomas was in the shower, he’d thought about doing more than feeding her breakfast.
It wasn’t just her enchanting eyes. She was a remarkable woman. Fierce. Smart. Gorgeous.
Where Danni’s hair was blonde, Rylee’s was dark brown. Same long, straight style. Same slender, athletic build and graceful mannerisms. Like Danni, she exuded raw, natural beauty. No makeup. No maintenance. No nonsense.
His kind of perfect.
It had been seven years since he’d seen or talked to his dancer. Of course, he noticed beautiful women since then. He craved sex, obsessed over it, and fucked his hand on the regular. He still had a pulse, for Christ’s sake. But no one had come close to tempting him.
Not even Rylee.
In seven years, he hadn’t felt the luscious curves of a female body. Hadn’t tasted soft, warm lips or smelled the sweetness of a soaked pussy. He hadn’t encountered anyone who compared to the woman he let go.
But he enjoyed Rylee’s company. Perhaps because she looked past his coarse exterior and understood him in a way very few people did. She recognized his pain and seemed to admire him for it.
Her education lent her the ability to see through the bullshit. But he guessed it was her own loss, her ex-husband’s betrayal, that helped her relate to him so easily.
“You’re staring.” She narrowed her eyes. Eyes that made him long for a life he would never have.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“Mm-hmm.” She pursed her lips, her expression skeptical. “What’s going on, Cole?”
“Just an observation.”
“Why that observation? Why now?”
“Because Tomas isn’t here to take a swing at me.”
“Fair enough. Thank you for the compliment.” Her cheeks rose. “I’m ready to do this. Are you?”
“Yep.” A rush of energy buzzed through him as he grabbed the high-tech bug from the table. “Going live in three, two, one…”
He activated the device and gave her a nod.
Nothing indicated the bug was on, but the moment it detected noise, it would begin recording. Sound clips would be sent to an untraceable phone, and whoever monitored that phone would be alerted of the incoming recording within seconds.
Basic spy technology, but so much more. This bug had been customized with high-speed transmissions, long-reach WIFI, and battery life that exceeded months—all built into a chip the size of a coin.
That level of cutting-edge tech wasn’t obtainable outside clandestine groups like NSA and black ops. He’d been retired from the activity for so long he wasn’t up to speed on the latest tech. Hell, he didn’t even know how the bug functioned until he’d taken it apart.
What he did know was that this tiny piece of tech was the key that would lead him to the threat.
Or rather, it would lead the threat to him.
“Where are you going?” he asked Rylee, following the script he’d rehearsed with her.
“I’m sick of hiding, Cole.” She stared at the listening device, answering exactly as he’d coached her. “We’ve been moving around, running for months, and you still don’t know who planted those bugs in my house. Now you expect me to sit here in the damn desert and wait for something to happen? You don’t even know if they’re listening to us now.”
While holed up in Missouri for the past four months, he and his team spent that time investigating and