Page 50 of Clash of Sin and Secret

I shake my head. “Not this time. Get dressed for a stakeout and meet me in the entryway in five minutes.”

Scottie

The night air carries the tang of diesel and fish, mingling with the metallic screech of cargo cranes swinging their loads through the darkness. I shift my weight on my belly, working to find a more comfortable position than lying on the cold metal of the shipping container.

“See anything suspicious?” Zane whispers beside me, his body a warm presence against my side.

I adjust the focus on my binoculars as I track the movement below. “Just dock workers doing their jobs. But why ask me? You’re the one with heightened sight and built-in night vision.”

His shoulder brushes mine as he scans the area. “I get a kick out of watching you fumble with those things. It’s entertaining.”

“Rude. And here I was liking you again. Too bad you blew it.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you like me just fine.”

“I’m just using you for sex.”

“I’m okay with that. I will gratefully be your sex toy and never complain about being used.”

I flash him a sidelong glance and grin. Being here, working alongside him again—it feels right. Natural.

“If you two are finished flirting up there,” Huntley says over our ear buds, “you might be interested to know that the Vasari shipment has been offloaded from the boat and is being transferred to the truck.”

“Roger that, Viking,” Zane says.

I make a face at Zane and try not to laugh. “We’ve been told.”

Zane shakes his head. “He’s just cranky because you don’t want to use him as a sex toy.”

“I can hear you, assholes.”

I laugh. “Don’t listen to him, H. I would happily use you as my sexual plaything.”

Staring down, scanning the movement of the crates from ship to truck, is slow but encouraging. Nothing underhanded is happening. Or at least nothing we can see from our vantage point up here.

Tucker’s massive form appears and disappears between containers below, moving with surprising stealth for someone his size. Huntley’s blond head occasionally catches the harsh dock lighting as he prowls the shadows on the opposite side.

After thirty minutes of nothing unusual, the workers secure the last crate. The truck’s engine rumbles to life, diesel fumes curling up toward our perch.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” I lower the binoculars and push up to my knees.

Zane stands, offering me a hand. “Sometimes boring is good.”

We climb down the side of the shipping container and make our way to where we parked the truck. Tucker jogs over, his expression tight.

“Where’s Huntley?” Zane asks.

Tucker runs a hand through his hair. “He slipped onto the truck when they weren’t looking. He’s riding with the shipment.”

Zane

I stare at Tucker standing there with the keys. “He what? Huntley stows away in the shipment truck, and you just let him go?”

Scottie grabs my wrist. “Don’t kill the messenger, Z.”

Tucker straightens and meets my ire. “There wasn’t anything I could’ve done. He tossed the keys to me and raced off at top vamp speed.”

Of course he did.

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