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REN

Beaufort, South Carolina

R en lived on Beaufort’s main drag in a spacious third-floor apartment above a sporting goods store.

The owners lived one floor below and were frequently gone, leading wilderness adventures.

As a SEAL, Ren had bunked in barracks and slept in deserts; as a teacher, he had lived in campus housing and cramped apartments.

This place was spacious and quiet. It was more than enough.

He stepped inside and unclipped Newton’s leash.

The Cairo assignment he’d just returned from had come up at the last minute, so Ren had left the dog with Steady and his fiancé, Very.

“So, this is my place.” He hung the keys on a hook by the door and set the bag of dog supplies on the kitchen island. “Make yourself at home, I guess.”

Newton sat on the circular woven carpet in the living area and watched Ren—his black and white face a picture of canine wisdom.

Ren took a glass out of the cabinet and poured himself the last of the scotch from the open bottle on the counter.

He’d been hitting the bottle too much lately.

His usual intake amounted to a couple of beers with Steady and Chat.

His mixed feelings about Sofria were driving him to drink.

With his back to Newton, he said, “I do ask that you stay off the furniture. I’ll bring the kennel up in a bit, and you can sleep in there.

” Ren sipped the scotch and turned to find Newton on the couch with his mouth around a throw pillow.

“Or that works, I guess. But you may not get on my bed. Agreed?”

At the dog’s non-response, Ren said, “Good. That’s settled.”

Ren was an intellectual. He never put much stock into emotions and certainly did not believe in love at first sight.

That had all changed when he laid eyes on Sofria.

It was like being hit in the face with a shovel.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The thunderclap of lust nearly knocked him off his feet.

Taking a seat at the desk, Ren set his drink on the coaster and opened his email, hoping to find any distraction to take his mind off of the woman who had bewitched him. Just his luck, the first email was from her.

Dear Leo,

I hope this email finds you well. Neither of us likes small talk, so I’ll get to the point. I’ve met someone. I know it’s sudden, but it’s serious, and I’ll be staying in Jordan permanently. I wish you all the best and hope we cross paths again one day.

Fondly,

Sofria

Ren closed out the email and sat back in his chair, instantly rewriting their relationship in his mind.

He canceled out their last awkward dates and his nonsensical suspicions and relived that first electric encounter.

Nathan’s wife, Emily, had been abducted by a madman, and Sofria had provided information from the CIA vital to Emily’s rescue.

When the danger had passed, Ren went to Sofria’s apartment to return that damn bright pink umbrella.

The moment he saw her, Ren knew—or, he thought he knew.

The innocence and passivity that had ultimately bored him had stunned him into silence that rainy day in Georgetown.

The awkward silences and fumbling kisses were lost in that first memory of her cinnamon eyes.

Maybe he had sabotaged it. Maybe it was Ren who found flaws in meaningless things. Maybe his fear of ending up like his parents had caused him to fly red flags needlessly. Maybe Sofria Kirk was perfect. Maybe she had been the one. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The reflection and recriminations were inevitable but pointless. It hardly mattered. Their relationship had ended before it ever really started. And now she was gone. Ren tried to remind himself that as much as he had willed it to be, Sofria Kirk wasn’t his soulmate.

It did nothing to soothe the ache in his chest.

After downing the whiskey, Ren withdrew the can of compressed air from the drawer.

As he sprayed the keyboard, something glinted in the light.

A tiny object was lodged under the K key.

After retrieving the tweezers from the first aid kit in the kitchen, Ren plucked out a bead barely larger than a grain of sand.

He recalled the beaded cuff Sofria occasionally wore.

Ren had complimented the design, and she told him she had purchased it at a market in Delhi while visiting her parents.

Sofria had used his computer. He decided not to be irritated.

There were a million innocent reasons the woman he was dating might borrow it.

That nagging little voice whispered; she should have asked .

Ren looked down to find Newton tucking himself in the space under the desk at his feet.

He patted the dog’s head and then placed the bead in the recessed section of the drawer that held paper clips and pushpins and continued cleaning.

That’s when he saw a tab the size of a dime stuck to the side of the machine.

Ren pulled the clear plastic, separating the adhesive from the computer, and examined the disk.

A miniature grid of wires ran through the center.

Ren wasn’t a tech expert, but he knew enough to call one. In all things, Ren was deliberate and rational. He’d ask Twitch about it in the morning. For now, he needed to read the dozens of emails he had ignored on assignment and do his damnedest to forget about Sofria Kirk.