I didn’t sleep much.
Again.
The problem wasn’t the room.
Or the storm that had finally passed.
Or even the men searching for me.
The problem was Ryder Kane.
Specifically, the way he’d looked at me before walking back into the bar.
Like he already knew something I didn’t.
Like he’d made a decision.
And whatever that decision was, it involved me.
The thought followed me into sleep and haunted me all the way to morning.
By the time I came downstairs, Reaper’s Bar was already busy.
Maria was behind the counter.
Luca was arguing with Ghost about something.
Ghost appeared deeply uninterested.
Business as usual.
“Morning, sunshine,” Luca called.
“I hate that greeting.”
“I know.”
“That’s why you use it.”
“Exactly.”
Maria slid a mug of coffee toward me.
“You look tired.”
“I a
