Page 41 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

She tried the call again. This time Emberly answered on the second ring.

“What’s wrong?”

Of course that was Emberly’s first response.

She’d lived the past ten years as an elite Black Swan, running ops and looking over her shoulder.

Nimue had always been equal parts proud of and terrified for her sister.

But after living just eight months on the run, she’d decided she should have been way more worried about Em.

Loneliness. Fear. Paranoia, even. No wonder Emberly was always moving, always changing her appearance. No wonder she wanted to hang on tight to the rare and surprising relationship she had with a former Navy SEAL. Frankly, the two were made for each other.

After Nimue’s house burned down, there really was no place for her.

But even if it hadn’t, she wasn’t safe there.

She wasn’t safe anywhere. More than that, anywhere she went painted a target on anyone around her.

The Bratva wanted her dead—that much had been clear from the moment she’d stared down the barrel of Teresa’s gun.

They wouldn’t hesitate to take out anyone who stood in their way.

They’d been lucky that no one had died during the Russian Bratva’s attack at King’s Inn. They might not be so lucky next time.

Leaving felt like the only way to ensure that her sister and her new life stayed safe.

But no, Nimue wasn’t a Swan. Never wanted to be. She preferred home and family.

At least in her wildest dreams.

“I’m... fine.” The lie tasted bitter.

“You don’t sound fine.” Emberly’s voice shifted from ops leader to protective older sister. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Everything.” She cleared her throat, hating how weak she sounded. “How did you do it? Live alone. Always looking over your shoulder. Never feeling completely safe.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and she wrapped her free arm around her waist.

“This won’t be forever.” Emberly’s voice softened. Always the big sister. Always trying to protect. “We just need to figure out what they want from you. Sure, you got into their servers and tracked them. But it has to be something in those files you downloaded. Have you cracked any of them?”

Nimue made her way back down the steps to her kitchenette, phone pressed to her ear.

She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, the rich aroma doing nothing to calm her nerves.

“Some. I’m still working on it. But I’ve been going over the data I acquired.

Most of it is benign. Old shipping documents, some bank transactions.

I turned it all over to the Caleb Group for their hacker to decipher, but Coco doesn’t have anything either.

Maybe it’s just revenge.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m just overreacting. I could come back?—”

“No!”

Oh, hello. Nimue took a breath. “Okay, Em. What aren’t you telling me?” Nimue set the mug down harder than necessary, coffee sloshing over the rim.

A beat, and her sister’s voice cut low. “I’m pretty sure I saw someone watching us yesterday.”

Nimue reached for a paper towel but froze. “What?”

“I don’t know. It was quick. They were parked in an SUV down the street—not at all conspicuous in a community like Melbourne Beach. Stein was on the roof, and he spotted it first. I was inside, painting a wall, and by the time I got out on the porch, the SUV was pulling away.”

“Could’ve been a lost tourist.”

“Or it could’ve been the Russian Bratva, waiting for you to show up.”

“You have to get out of there.” Nimue’s hand shook as she wiped up the mess.

“Trust me, Stein doesn’t let me out of his sight.

He even insists on running with me, though I know it’s killing his knees.

” Emberly’s voice carried a note of fondness that made Nimue’s chest ache.

“But after yesterday, we talked and decided that we’d rather have them watch us than you.

However, Stein set up a security perimeter and scanned the house for bugs. ”

“You moved in yet?”

“No. I’m still living in the camper beside your house. Stein is at Win’s place down the road.”

“Wait—Winchester Marshall’s estate? The actor?”

“Yeah. He’s really suffering.” She laughed. “But we use Win’s pool, and it’s got a beautiful view of the ocean on the beach side.”

“You know, you could use your portion of the inheritance Mom left us and get your own beach house.”

Emberly laughed. “Yeah, unfortunately, two mil, even though it’s a nice nest egg, won’t get me anything bigger than a cabin on the beach. No, I like your place for now—two blocks off the beach, cute, three bedroom—it’ll be beautiful when we get it done.”

“It’s not my place anymore.” Oh, she hadn’t meant to sound bitter.

“It will be again, Nim. We’ll get it sorted.”

She sighed, but the memory of the fire burned through her. No, the Russian mob had taken her peace, her security from her. “We’ll see.”

A sudden whirring roar shattered the quiet outside—the unmistakable thump of helicopter blades slicing through air.

Moving on target.

“Helicopter.” Nimue froze. “I’ve got to go.”

“What—” Emberly was shouting even as Nimue’s phone clattered to the countertop. Nimue lunged toward her tech hub. “No, no, no.”

The sound thundered closer, vibrating through the bus’s frame. No—she’d been so careful—rerouting signals, masking her location.

She flipped through her camera feeds, pulse hammering in her ears. Pine branches swayed in the wind from the rotors, but she couldn’t see the chopper. The third feed caught it—a figure sliding down the drop line, black against the sky.

Her breath hitched. The bus could move, but not fast enough. She’d have to ditch it, grab her go bag, disappear into the canyon?—

She clicked to the fourth camera and let out a sigh. A red cross blazed across the helicopter’s side.

Medical team. Not Bratva.

She closed her eyes as adrenaline flushed from her system, leaving her limbs heavy and warm. The walnut frame of the bench creaked as she sank onto it, cushions shifting under her weight. She exhaled a shaky laugh.

Emberly’s voice still yelled from the phone, tinny and distant.

She picked it up, wincing at her sister’s sharp tone. “It’s fine. Just a medevac. But we should end this. Secure line or not...”

She didn’t need to finish. The Bratva had hackers working for them—maybe not as good as her, but close enough.

“I still say the Bratva wouldn’t put this many resources on you unless you have something they want. Or want back .”

“I’ll go through the files again. But I really don’t know what they’re after.”

“Stay safe, sis. And if you need us?—”

“Love you.” Nimue ended the call and leaned forward, pulling up the feeds again. Her cameras weren’t just for security—they were her eyes, her connection to a world she couldn’t risk joining.

She cycled through angles until one locked onto the scene—a jagged cliff edge with a cluster of figures in ranger tan at the top. The way the lip of the canyon snaked back and forth in this area, her east-facing cameras had a clear shot across a fifty-foot gap in the canyon.

Someone was injured. She rewound the footage, watching the fall unfold in reverse.

Her stomach dropped at the image of the small girl tumbling over the cliff. The helplessness clawed at her chest—sharp, familiar. The same powerlessness she’d felt too often as a child, watching bad things happen to people she couldn’t protect.

She zoomed in as far as her lenses allowed, the grainy image sharpening just enough to catch the rescue unfolding.

A ranger in climbing gear rappelled down the cliff face, broad shoulders straining against his harness. Dark hair whipped in the wind, just long enough to look untamed. She couldn’t make out his eyes from this distance, but his intensity cut through the screen—focused, unyielding.

Nimue held her breath as he reached the girl. His movements were steady, deliberate. He immobilized her leg, then her neck, before he secured her to his line. She clung to his shoulders as he pulled them both up.

At the top, another ranger—long blond hair tied back, full beard—grabbed his arm, hauling them both over the edge. A woman in a medic’s vest knelt beside the girl, checking the splint.

Two boys crowded around—brothers, most likely. The girl was safe.

And that’s when the dark-haired ranger turned, his gaze locking onto her camera. Impossible—he couldn’t know it was there, hidden in the branches. But the way he stared, head tilted, sent electricity down her spine.

He lifted his radio, lips moving in words she couldn’t hear. Reporting her position?

Her pulse kicked up again—a different kind of alarm. Not Bratva, but someone had noticed her. Someone with authority. Someone who might ask questions she couldn’t answer.

She pulled her keyboard closer. The bus’s interior—warm mint-green walls, the scent of new cupboards—suddenly felt like a cage. She’d been so careful, blending into the landscape, but that piercing look told her she wasn’t invisible.

Her fingers hesitated over the keys. She could hack the park’s database, but that radio was analog. She pulled up her supply list, mental gears shifting. A scanner. She needed a police scanner. If the rangers were onto her, she’d hear it first.

She glanced around the bus—her home, her shield. Every inch engineered for survival. The cameras alone had taken her over a week to mount and position in the trees.

But survival wasn’t enough anymore. If Emberly was right, the Bratva wouldn’t stop until they found her. Having a digital report filed by a ranger was the last thing she needed.

Nimue powered down her monitors, screens fading to black. She grabbed a jacket—brown, nondescript, forgettable—and stepped outside the bus’s front door, gathering the few items she had out there. Her gaze swept the cameras mounted in the trees. No time to collect them.

Maybe if she moved for a week, they’d lose interest. She could return later.

She climbed into the driver’s seat, engine rumbling to life beneath her. As the bus rolled forward, dust kicking up behind her, the Bratva’s message replayed in her head.

New lead on target.

They hadn’t found her this time. But she had to stay one step ahead if she hoped to survive.

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