Page 63

REN

Siren Song, Maine

R en put the box of donuts in the passenger seat, waved to Mrs. Baker, and climbed into his car.

Stella had developed a fondness for the custard-filled Boston Cream donuts, and Ren had thought up some very naked ways for her to enjoy them.

He glanced up at the cliff and saw the remnants of the deck sealed off with caution tape.

A crew was coming next week to rebuild it.

The memory of Stella seducing him on the deck merged with the image of her pulling him to safety.

Ren rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

How was it possible a woman like Stella existed?

Physically, she had always been ideal. Whatever persona she took on, she was irresistible. But emotionally, it was only Stella.

The realization hit him like a freight train. Since he had known Stella Keen, that hollow sensation he had felt with Sofria Kirk had vanished. Stella was stubborn and difficult and passionate and fierce. She was sexy and brazen and reckless.

There is a Japanese art known as Kintsugi, in which sculptors repair broken pottery with gold dust. The result is a work more beautiful than the original: a piece enhanced by its flaws. That was Stella. Every crack and scar created her allure. Her flaws were what made her perfect.

Ren was in love with Stella Keen.

The splat of an errant raindrop on the windshield urged him home. Now that the surety of his feelings had settled, Ren didn’t want to waste a second. He needed to tell Stella how he felt.

The cliff road was carved into the jagged rocks between Siren Cliff and the town.

Five hairpin turns and antiquated safety measures had drivers strictly obeying the fifteen-mile-per-hour speed limit.

Road etiquette demanded that opposing traffic pass at an even slower speed, nearly coming to a stop as cars shared the tight lanes—which was why Ren was surprised and irritated by the white Ford pickup barrelling toward him way too fast.

THE PRIEST

T he Priest sped up as Jameson’s Audi rounded the final curve in the road.

This wasn’t the most grueling assignment he had ever taken, but it would be the most satisfying.

Taking out a former SEAL and capturing a Hyperion agent in one afternoon was one for the record books.

The Priest was a ghost, a myth; even in his world, people weren’t sure he existed.

This job would be another log on the bonfire of his legend.

He was driving too fast for this treacherous road, and Jameson knew it. The Priest saw the glow of the brake lights as the Audi slowed and hugged the guardrail, waiting for the pickup to pass. The Priest could almost hear Jameson muttering, “ Crazy kids .”

Show time.

The Priest turned sharply, ramming the pickup’s front bumper into the side of the Audi’s hood.

He gave Leo Jameson no time to correct and pressed the accelerator.

The smell of burning rubber drifted through the vents as the tires spun and pushed the SUV sideways.

The sound of twisting metal as the guardrail gave way was music to The Priest’s ears.

Seconds later, the SUV was toppling nose-first over the edge.

The car’s momentum carried it across the road below, and it continued to fall.

The steepest drop was approaching, and The Priest stepped closer, wanting to catch every bash and bang.

The sudden silence was unexpected. It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing.

The Audi’s hood had lodged vertically between two rocks, and the car now stood upright like a toy soldier, balanced on the brink.

The Priest muttered under his breath, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

With a malicious grin, he returned to the pickup and opened the case stowed in the back seat.

Below him, on Main Street, he saw the flashing cherry of a police car.

He didn’t care. By this time tomorrow, the pickup would be a two-by-two metal cube, and he would be relaxing on a Costa Rican beach.

With practiced skill, The Priest pulled the pin on the grenade and threw it over the side, where it landed three feet from where the Audi was stuck.

The explosion shook the ground, and The Priest watched as the SUV burst into flaming shards of metal and fell over the cliff in a ball of fire.

The Priest spun the grenade pin around on his finger and climbed into the pickup. As much as he wanted to stay and enjoy the SEAL barbeque, the job was only half done. He made a precarious U-turn and headed to the bluff.