It was either the beach, which offered no security, or the front door. I scooted to the edge of my seat, ready. Waiting as Graciella smiled up at the man as he approached.

  “Darling." His voice was velvet.

  I knew that voice. My stomach pitched, and I fought to keep down the bits of egg and toast I’d just eaten. She stood and wound her arms around the neck of the devil. I wanted to tell her run. I wanted to tell her he was not her friend. He was the enemy. But Graciella, poor, sweet Graciella, was winding her arms around the man who killed my parents. Drake Webster. The right-hand man of Antonio Igno.

  Fucking hell.

  I tried to duck my head. “I'll just leave you two lovebirds alone."

  But that voice, smooth as silk and cold as ice, said, "Oh, don't run off. I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast. Why don't you introduce me to your friend, Graciella?"

  Her laugh was high pitched and bubbly. "This is my friend I was telling you about, Saffron King. She's here with her husband."

  I still had my sunglasses on, and I prayed that they gave me some coverage, but I knew they didn't give me enough. I was the spitting image of my mother. He would know. One look at me, and our whole mission was over. All this time we'd been working Graciella, Drake Webster had been working us.

  He took his aviators off, his bright blue eyes shiny as always. And then he stuck his hand out. "Any friend of Graciella's is a friend of mine. I’m Drake."

  For a long sickening moment, all I could do was stare at his hand, willing the bile to stay down, willing myself to have the courage and strength to stare him in the eye and spit. To hurl myself at him and call him a murderer in front of all these people. But I couldn't do any of that. All I could do was stare.

  Graciella bumped my shoulder. "Saffron, this is Drake. Say hi," she laughed nervously.

  I swallowed hard and stood, sticking my hand in his. “It's a pleasure to meet you."

  The moment I spoke, his brows furrowed. "Have we met?"

  I shook my head. “I don't think so. Actually, you know what, Graciella? I’m just going to head to the ladies. I'll be right back."

  "All right. Hurry back. Drake and I want some time alone, and that doesn't work if you’re not here."

  Right, she wanted to use me. "Maybe you should come with me."

  She stood abruptly, bumping the edge of the table, which bumped me slightly. It unsettled me, and my sunglasses fell off my face. I scrambled to pick them up. I slipped them back on, but not before Drake met my gaze and his eyes went wide. His nostrils flared. His lips parted, and I didn't wait for him to say anything.

  I ran.

  I bolted for the front door, but I knew he had men out there. And of course, I could see them as well as Massimo's men. So all I could do was pray for a back entrance. But he was too smart. There would be men back there too.

  The loo? A higher floor? How was I going to get out of here?

  I booked it into the ladies’ room. I reached for my purse and pulled out a hundred pounds, handing the money to the startled attendant. “I’ll give you a hundred pounds to keep that door closed."

  She just nodded and then shifted her chair and adjusted it under the knob. "Okay."

  I ran to the windows. "Will these open?"

  “Yeah, the lock is tricky though. Are you trying to run away?"

  "Bad date."

  "Surely you can go out the front door."

  I shook my head. “I can't."

  Her brow furrowed. “Is someone hurting you? I can call security."

  I shook my head. "No. I just need to get out. Please help me."

  She nodded and stood on the counter, fiddling with the window lock. When it finally gave way, I shoved the window open. “Do you mind giving me a boost?"

  I was tall, but I still needed several inches before I could get my fingers to find purchase enough to pull me up and over. It was then that I heard the banging on the door. It sounded like Graciella. "Saffron? Are you in there? The door is locked. Are you okay?"

  Drake hadn't just seen me. His men were looking for me too. Fuck.

  The attendant shrugged at me. “I won't let her in. But if she's determined enough, she could probably just have security shove the door open."

  “It's okay. Just hoist me up."

  She did so inelegantly, but I wrapped my purse over my shoulder and climbed. When I cleared the window in the soft grass outside, I breathed a sigh of relief and then did the only thing that I could do. I sent a distress call. I didn't do it lightly because it would mean every single one of us would have to leave quickly. Get to the safe house and then make it off the islands. We couldn't risk going to the palace and tying Sebastian and Penny to a covert op. We weren't supposed to be here, and that was the joy of the Rogues Division. We were invisible. The royals would help us get off the island, but we couldn't be found in the palace.

  I sent a text to the encrypted number. Three words, the heir's ruby, and then I ran like the devil himself was chasing me.

  Lachlan

  Rage was an interesting emotion. It could flash hot and burn brightly, or it could simmer. But more than the rage I felt was a sense of sadness that I hadn't expected.

  I had to find out what the fuck was going on. I liked her. Trusted her. She was more than just my training officer. I cared about that woman. And to realize that she'd done this to me, brought me here and then looked me in the face every single day and said nothing. She made me her partner. Made me care about her.

  Fucking hell.

  My phone chimed, and I forced my brain into compliance. We had a mission to complete. I sure as shit I wouldn't be touching her again. It was like my dick was mocking me though.

  Oh yeah, sure you won't.

  I scowled. "We won't."

  Uh-huh, whatever you say.

  It was like my dick full-on understood the theory of hate fucking. It was her fault I was here.

  My brain kept trying to offer other potential and valid reasons for Felix to know her, but there weren't any. I had been her mark. There was no other explanation.

  But why would your grandfather bother?

  Maybe they needed me in a softened, weakened state. I would have fought back, wouldn't I?

  I was just on the edge of the old town, my trainers slapping on the cobblestones, when the alert came in. I frowned at it, not sure if I was seeing it right. It was the emergency code.

  Red. Red. Red.  Saff had called in The Heir’s Ruby.

  I saw Saff’s message, and my heart sank. Adrenaline flowed in my veins. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She was in trouble. My rational brain had a lot to say about that.

  I thought we hated her.

  Fucking hell. I knew what the protocol meant. Find an exit route immediately. It didn't matter though, because I was still calling her.

  I knew she wouldn't answer. Think fucker, think, think, think. Where was she? She'd gone to breakfast with Graciella, right?

  From there, what would be the egress route she'd take? I had a whole map of the big island. Memorized it backward and forward. She was in trouble. Where would she go? If she was seeing red, that meant she'd had made a hasty exit out of somewhere. She needed help. I ran quickly, nearly taking out pedestrians. I had to get through.

  My skin was too cold and flushed hot at the same time. At one point I slid and stumbled over someone's fallen gelato. I managed to stay upright then kept going. Fuck, I had to get to her. I had to fucking get to her.

  Fucking Saff. I was furious. More furious than I’d ever been in my entire life. She had betrayed me. But still, I couldn't leave her to die. Protocol said I was fucking supposed to get to the pier. Anyone who didn't make it on time would be left behind.

  But I couldn't leave her. My phone buzzed. It was Saint.

  "Saint," I answered, huffing. "The fuck are you doing? You're breaking protocol."

  “You answered. So are you."

  “I'm trying to get Saff so we can get out of here."

  "That's against the rules."

  “I know.”

  “Where are you?"

  I told him my location.

  “If we do this, we're all likely going to miss the fucking boat," Saint groaned.

  “I'm not asking you to do this. I just— I can't leave her."

  “Yeah, keep going, I’ll meet you on Winston Walk."

  I quickly did a mental assessment of where Winston Walk was. "We'll be there."

  “You better be there, because I’m going to borrow some wheels."

  I laughed. "Aren't you a demolitions expert? How are you going to borrow these wheels?"

  “Don't ask questions."

  And I didn't. I just hung up and ran for my life, because I knew that if she had called red, she was in trouble. And I had to get to her. It didn't matter what she'd done, or how, or what that meant. When we got back to London, then I’d talk to her. But for now, the only way I wanted out of this was for all of us to be safe and sound. But her most of all. And I was willing to risk everything to make sure of that.

  There were throngs of people on the streets. It was a bank holiday, so everyone was on bloody holiday time. Fuck. The streets were teeming, and I knew I was not going to make it.

  I made an ill-advised left, and it took me straight into the path of an impromptu parade with buskers up ahead. I cursed. The crowd was so thick I knew I wasn't getting through. And then I saw a retaining wall, so I hopped up and worked my way up and up. A couple of people were in their yards and shouted a warning, but of course I didn't listen. I couldn't hear them for the fear and the worry that had pierced my gut and gripped it, refusing to let go, the claws of it digging in tight.

  Her first mission. Her first fucking mission. She could not die.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I made a right on Penelope's Place and waited for her. This was the path she'd come down. If I could grab her, we could rendezvous with Saint. We'd be out of here in no time.

  I just prayed to God I wasn't too late, that she was okay and safe.

  For someone who's angry, you sure are concerned about her safety.

  I needed Saff to myself to discuss our issues extensively. I was going to tan her hide first though.

  Her arse is plenty tan enough.

  Fucking hell. The last thing I needed was to think about her arse and how it felt to touch her, her body pressed up against mine, riding me, taking everything I had to give her. Fuck.

  I wasn't much for God or religion, but now was the time to pray. I hoped to God I knew her well enough to assume that she would come this way. Of all the things she'd taught me in strategy and ops, she would have insisted I follow the path of least resistance straight to the pier.

  So in the shadows, I waited for her. At the small of my back, I palmed my gun and waited, hoping to God that Saff followed her own advice.

  21

  Saffron

  I ran like the devil himself was chasing me. I had no choice.

  Drake fucking Webster?

  What was he doing here? Our intel hadn't told us he was here. There was no calming my heart. I couldn't process it because there was still a part of me that wanted to run back and make him pay for what he'd done to me, done to my family. Because of him, I never felt safe in my own skin. Because of him, my parents were gone. He took everything from me, and I wanted to kill him. But I was also terrified and didn't know what to do, so I just kept running. Despite the panic though, my footing was sure.

  I reached inside my purse and grabbed an elastic, and as I headed toward the shopping district, I made a sharp left, dropped twenty pounds in a shopkeeper's hand, and grabbed a scarf. As I exited hastily, she called after me. I saw the label that said the price was only five pounds and called back, "Keep the change," as I kept moving, pulling my hair into a pony tail and quickly wrapping the scarf around it.

  I moved as quickly as I could, trying not to draw attention to myself in the packed streets. I didn't dare look behind to see if someone was following me. As I turned on one of the streets in the shopping district, I heard a commotion behind me.

  When I hit the corner, a mirror posted in one of the shop windows showed cars approaching and two men in heavy jackets running in my direction. Fuck. Drake’s men.

  I had to move. I sprinted through the crowd, frantic now as I glanced at my watch again. There was no way I was going to fucking make it on foot. I needed to steal a vehicle. But that could mean more trouble because getting caught in a stolen vehicle meant police. Police meant I’d be a sitting duck and Drake and his men could find me. It also meant that I’d likely already missed the rendezvous with my team and I would have to get myself out.

  Penny and Ariel would try to help, but the whole point was that we weren't supposed to be there. The Royal Elite team would try to help, but any association with me would mean trouble for them.

  Think, Saff, think.

  A motorbike would probably be the fastest. A car would have to stay on the roads, but for motorbikes, alleyways were an option. I had a whole map of the main island imprinted in my brain. Because if there was one thing that I did, at the very least, it was mentally prepare.

  I saw a big group of people and inserted myself in the middle of them. Just in time, because one of the men in a heavy jacket ran past the group, scanning over the top of it. He headed to the right, searching in the boutiques along the way. The crowd I was in began to move up ahead. They were probably headed to one of the first churches built on the island. It looked like a tour group.

  I made a sharp left into an alley that I knew was full of motorbike parking. When I did, a hand clamped over my mouth and dragged me into the shadows. "There you fucking are."

  I shrieked internally, though I made zero sound. I quickly turned my head sharply to the right, putting my face in the crook of his arm so I couldn't be choked out. I shifted my hips in the same direction, bringing my palm down, but a hand caught mine. "Ah, you fooled me once."

  The voice was familiar, and it wasn't Drake. I forced my brain to calm the panic, to take a deep breath, and to ignore the adrenaline. It was Lock.

  His hand clamped around my arm and softly traced over the skin of my inner wrist. “I'm going to let go. Are you okay?"

  I nodded and he released me. I turned in his arms and he put his finger to his mouth. "Shh."

  Relieved, I wrapped my arms around him. “You're not supposed to be here."

  “I know. But did you really think I would leave you?"

  "This isn’t protocol."

  “Fuck protocol. We need to wait here for another thirty seconds. They're doing a sweep of those stores over there. Which bike do you want?"

  I peeked out around his shoulder. "The black one. There are two helmets on it."

  "Okay, are you good?"

  “Yeah."

  "When we stop, you're going to tell me what the fuck is going on."

  “Yeah, but we have to get to the pier without being seen on the bike."

  “Don't worry. We'll ditch it about four blocks from here. Saint is waiting."

  My brows lifted. "Saint ignored protocols too?"

  "Are you insane? You're our fearless leader. We weren't going to leave you in the field."

  My brow furrowed and I shook my head. "Lock, you're supposed to—"

  He didn't let me finish. Instead, he grabbed my hand and took off running toward the black bike.

  There was no time to waste. I climbed on the bike on the driver's seat. Lock shook his head, scooted me back, and climbed on.

  The ignition was digital. He laughed as he pulled out his phone with a decryption device that we’d been given for the mission just in case. It took several precious seconds, but the bike revved and I could feel rather than hear Lock chuckle. I just prayed to God, he knew how to ride the thing.

  Oh, holy shit. He did know how to ride this thing. As the bike roared, he charged forward, careening down the alley without a care. Not even pausing as we hit the end of the street and made a sharp right turn directly into traffic.

  Somewhere behind us a car honked and there was yelling, but we were already on the road, weaving in and out of traffic. He made another sharp left, and I held on tight. My hands flattened against his taught abs and all I could do was suck in a sharp breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My brain kept going over and over where we'd gone wrong. Where the intel was wrong. Drake Webster was not supposed to be here.

  We took another sharp right, and I heard a ping and saw the cement wall next to us chip as we charged into an alley. I cursed low and shouted, "Bullets." I didn't know if he heard me, but Lock drove like the devil himself was behind him.

  He made another sharp left and looped back around until he made a full circle and we were behind the man chasing us. I knew what he wanted me to do then. I grabbed the gun out of his holster. I really did hate to shoot up the Winston Isles, but for fuck's sake. Lock increased our speed until we were within a hundred meters.

  I was a hell of a marksman, but on a motorcycle? Lock, for his part, did his best to keep the bike straight. Using his arm to brace, I palmed the gun using both hands, one hand for support, one on the trigger. As we got closer and closer, I aimed for the tire. Fired.

  There was a massive pop that sounded like an explosion, and as our bike popped in the air for a moment, the back end of the car in front of us seemed to lift several feet off the ground before spinning and careening out into a barricade.

  I brought the gun back, put the safety back on, and kept it tucked in front of me, with one arm holding tightly to Lock.

  Lock made a sharp right, and then another left before driving us into an alley. "Come on," he said as he swung off the bike. He took the gun from me and shoved it back into the waistband under his shirt. He held my hand easily as he tugged me along. At the entrance of the alley, he tried to walk forward, but a shiver stole up my neck and I held him back.

  He frowned at me, and I shook my head. "Wait."

  Suddenly, one of the hulking men drove past us in another car. Lock cursed as we stayed in the shadows. "Jesus, fuck."