Page 9 of Over the Edge

She didn’t disappoint.

“Are you always this obnoxious, or are you making a special effort for me?”

“Princess, you bring out the best in me,” I drawled, enjoying the way her jaw tightened at the endearment.

Ethan cleared his throat. “If you two are done, we have an operation to run.”

Lyric dismissed me entirely, focusing on Ethan. “You sent me in with an unknown variable. Mind explaining why this Shepherd character crashed my op?”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

She spun back to me, eyes blazing. “I didn’t need saving.”

“Yeah, you did, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. Or princess. Or… anything!”

“Now, I gotta call you something since we’ll be working together.”

“To you, I’m Siren,” she bit out.

Siren. Her operational codename. It suited her. “Okay, Siren.” I all but purred it, turning the name into a caress. Then I shook my head. “Nope. Doesn’t work for me, princess.”

Her scowl deepened. “Grim, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“He’s not a babysitter,” Ethan said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “He’s an asset.”

“An ass, maybe,” she muttered.

I chuckled. “That’s just hurtful, princess.”

Ethan gave a sigh full of I-don’t-have-time-for-this. “Flynn, what did you do?”

“Why do you automatically assume I did something?”

“Because I know you.”

He got me there. “Yeah, fine. I made a scene.” I shrugged. “Moreau had her alone in his suite, and we had no comms. I didn’t want to find her floating in the Mediterranean tomorrow morning, so I played overprotective bodyguard, swooped in with a territorial display, and extracted her before things got messy.”

“And I had no idea who he was!” She whirled on me again, shoving a finger at my chest. “I had Moreau eating out of my hand. I was two minutes away from a private tour of his fucking yacht. I could’ve been on my way to Sentinel now.”

My stomach soured at the thought of her on Moreau’s yacht, and my smile dropped away. “Jesus, E. Don’t tell me she doesn’t know about Moreau’s extracurricular activities.”

“Of course I know. I may have been dumped into this mission, but I do my homework,” Lyric snapped. “I know exactly what Moreau does to women who interest him.”

She was so close I could see the gold flecks in her green eyes. Her perfume—citrus and something seductively spicy—wound around me, and for a second, I lost my train of thought.

I had to take a step back to clear my head. “Then you know putting yourself on that yacht alone would’ve been suicide. The last three women?—”

“Went missing,” she finished. “I’m aware. But unlike them, I’m trained for this. I had it handled.”

“You think he would’ve let you walk off that yacht after showing you his toys?” I leaned forward, dropping the teasing tone. “Moreau doesn’t share his secrets with people who can leave.”

Something flickered across her face—doubt, maybe—but she masked it quickly. “I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Siren.” And I didn’t. The way she moved, the way she calculated—everything about her screamed competence. But competence didn’t always save you from a bullet. “But Moreau’s got a body count that would make a cartel boss nervous.”

She sighed, her shoulders dropping a fraction. “I know his file.”

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