Page 9 of Rogue Hope
“You look like you could use this more than the guy who ordered it.”
Finn glanced up to find a waitress placing a generous slice of cherry pie before him. She was athletic, her tanned forearms suggesting someone who spent considerable time outdoors, with friendly eyes and an easy smile.
“I didn’t order dessert,” he said, voice raspy from disuse.
“On the house.” She nodded toward his face. “That’s quite a shiner you’ve got there. Climbing accident?”
Finn hesitated, then seized the offered cover story. “Yeah. Took a whipper off Crystal Crag yesterday. My belayer caught me, but not before I kissed the rock face.”
The lie came easily, bolstered by the detailed research he’d done on local climbing spots. Hope Landing was a haven for outdoor enthusiasts, making the story both plausible and difficult to disprove.
“Ouch.” She winced sympathetically. “Ribs too, I’m guessing, from the way you’re holding yourself.”
Finn nodded, surprised by her perceptiveness. “Bruised, not broken.”
“I’m Kate, by the way. Local climbing guide when I’m not slinging pie.” She extended her hand, which Finn shook briefly. “First time in Hope Landing?”
“That obvious?”
“Small town. We notice new faces.” She refilled his coffee without being asked. “Especially ones attached to bodies that look like they’ve been through a rock tumbler.”
Despite himself, Finn smiled. It had been a long time since he’d engaged in casual conversation with someone who wasn’t a contact or an asset or a mark. Longer still since that conversation had included genuine humor.
“The pie’s amazing,” he said after taking a bite, the tart-sweet flavor a surprising comfort. “Thank you.”
Kate leaned against the booth. “So, what brings you to our little mountain paradise? Besides testing gravity on our climbing routes?”
“Just passing through. Needed some quiet after a rough stretch.”
She nodded as if this made perfect sense. “Well, your timing’s either perfect or terrible, depending on how you feelabout small-town fun. Tomorrow’s parade is the highlight of summer around here.”
“I noticed.” Finn gestured toward the window, where volunteers were stringing lights across Main Street. “Seems like a big production.”
Her expression brightened. “You should check it out. It runs right past the diner. Great view from our outdoor tables.”
“I might do that.”
“I’m working the morning shift,” she added, a hint of invitation in her voice. “If you want company, I get a break around eleven.”
The offer hung between them, unexpected and tempting in its normalcy. For a moment, Finn allowed himself to imagine accepting—sitting in the sunshine, watching a small-town parade with a pretty local, pretending to be just another tourist enjoying a holiday weekend.
The fantasy dissolved. Getting close to anyone right now would only create potential casualties.
“I appreciate the offer,” he said, genuine regret coloring his tone. “But I’m heading out after this.”
Something in his expression must have communicated more than his words, because Kate simply nodded, her smile understanding rather than disappointed. “Well, enjoy the pie. And maybe go easy on the cliff faces for a while.”
After she moved on to other tables, Finn finished the pie slowly, savoring each bite. Small pleasures were rare in his life—all the more reason to appreciate them when they appeared.
He paid his bill in cash, leaving a generous tip, and stepped outside into the gathering darkness. Main Street had transformed while he’d been inside. Colorful banners now stretched between lampposts, and strings of lights cast a warm glow over the historic buildings. Teams of volunteersmoved with purpose, setting up viewing areas and making final adjustments to the parade route.
Finn lingered in the shadows, watching from a distance. A group of teenagers laughed as they decorated a pickup truck with streamers and balloons. Nearby, a family worked together on what appeared to be a miniature Wild West town mounted on a trailer. Their easy camaraderie sliced through him like a blade—sharp, precise, and surprisingly painful.
How long had it been since he’d belonged anywhere? Had he ever?
His childhood had been a study in transience, moving from foster home to foster home, never staying long enough to form attachments. His exceptional intelligence had isolated him further, marking him as different, separate. The CIA had recognized his talents early, recruiting him straight from college, but even there, he’d remained on the periphery, his skills too valuable to waste on team operations.
Then Cipher had found him, offering what seemed like purpose and recognition, manipulating his need for belonging. And he’d fallen for it completely, becoming the perfect tool—right until the moment he met Zara Khoury and discovered there were lines he couldn’t cross after all.
