Page 73 of Over the Edge

His answering smile was tight. “My patience has limits.”

“As does my interest.” I turned and walked away, forcing myself to move unhurriedly, my hips swaying just enough to keep his eyes on me rather than on my hasty retreat.

I felt exposed with every step, my back crawling with the certainty of his gaze tracking me. I nodded to a few guests as I passed through the main ballroom, maintaining Elisa’s poise while scanning for Flynn. I spotted him near the bar, his eyes finding mine immediately. He was fuming mad. I gave him the barest head shake—not now—and continued toward the guest wing.

A security guard directed me to my assigned room, unlocking it with a keycard before handing it to me with a curt nod. “Mr. Moreau has arranged for your comfort. If you require anything, dial zero on the phone.”

The door closed behind me with a soft click. I engaged the lock and wished there was also a deadbolt, maybe a security chain. Only then did I allow my shoulders to drop, my breath escaping in a shaky exhale.

The room was luxurious. King-sized bed with silk sheets, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, and a bathroom that probably cost more than most people’s houses. It was also, I was certain, thoroughly bugged.

I moved to the bathroom, turning on the shower to create white noise, before pulling out my phone. I needed to contact the team, to warn them about Moreau’s suspicions, to figure out our next move.

I typed a quick, encrypted message to Ethan: “Moreau suspects me. Sentinel confirmed. Auction at midnight. Need backup.”

It didn’t go through.

“Fuck.” I erased the message and set my phone down hard enough to crack the screen, if it weren’t for its military-grade durability. There had to be signal jammers in place.

I stared at my reflection and, for the first time in my professional career, I hated that I didn’t see myself staring back. I scrubbed at the makeup, yanked at my hair until all the pins clattered into the sink.

I’d lied to Flynn earlier. I did know how to love, and that was the problem. I knew exactly how it felt to love someone so much that losing them tore you apart. I knew the cost of letting someone matter that much.

My sister’s face flashed in my mind. Elodie laughing, alive.

But she wasn’t alive. She was gone forever because I’d let my focus slip for one crucial moment.

I couldn’t make that mistake again. Not with Flynn. Not with anyone.

I steeled myself, tucking away anything soft, anything vulnerable. There would be time for feelings later, if we survived. Right now, I needed to be Siren.

Cold. Professional. Deadly.

Then I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away Moreau’s lingering touch, along with any doubts about what needed to be done.

CHAPTER23

FLYNN

I’d countedevery exit twice, mapped every security camera, and memorized the guard rotation schedule by the time I heard the shower turn off. Seventeen minutes. That’s how long she’d been in there, washing away Moreau’s touch while I paced the polished marble floor like a caged animal. My reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows showed a man barely holding it together—hair disheveled from running my hands through it, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Behind me, the king-sized bed with its silk sheets and too many pillows sat pristine and untouched, mocking the chaos in my head.

The way Moreau had been looking at her since we set foot on his yacht made my skin crawl. I’d seen that look before—on warlords, arms dealers, men who collected beautiful things like trophies. And the way she’d played along, smiling, leaning in when he whispered in her ear—it was textbook undercover work, but it scraped something raw inside me.

The bathroom door opened in a billow of steam, and there she was, wrapped in a plush white towel, water droplets still clinging to her shoulders. Her platinum hair was darker when wet, slicked back from her face. She looked younger, more vulnerable somehow, without her carefully constructed Elisa armor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, glancing at the door. “How did you get in?”

I didn’t move from my position by the window. “Security in this place is good, but not good enough. Not when they’ve got four cameras down in the east wing that they’re scrambling to fix.”

Her gaze swept the room before she lowered her voice to a hiss. “You shouldn’t be here. If Moreau has the rooms bugged?—“

“He doesn’t. His business is built on his discretion, remember?”

“I don’t trust his discretion?—”

“I also did a sweep when I came in. We’re clear.” I took a step toward her, unable to stay still. “What the hell did he say to you?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Who, Decker?”

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