Page 18 of A Sweet Destruction

I took a second to check his strides, pretending like I wouldn’t be able recognize him from his boot print alone, before turning on my heel and matching his steps with our back turned toward each other so I could watch the expanse of field.

Ford was walking right towards the front door, and I prepared myself for the role I had to play. In my grumbling, exposed mood, I had only really been able to stomach sneaking around.

Now, I had to play the role of a smuggler and traitor to her own world. It was fun, most of the time.

Right now, the thought of being all buddy-buddy with Ford made me want to punch the wood hard enough to make my knuckles bleed.

I kept watch while Ford rapped twice, then three times in rapid succession on the barn door. The sounds of a some feet shuffling—more than just Roger—slipped past the door before one pair made its way closer.

A few clicks of locks and latches later, Roger cracked open the door with a low, “I should have known to expect you two.”

“Smart man,” Ford said, friendly affection thick in his voice. I felt him move inside with Roger, and I stepped backwards after him, my eyes still on the horizon. Even with Roger opening the door, someone could have used that moment of distraction to jump around the corner and bury a knife in my back.

Not today. Not when I was too angry to die.

Only once both my feet were planted onto the barn floor and Roger pressed the door shut did I turn to him and offer a warm smile. “We just got back yesterday. You didn’t think we’d wait longer than a day to check on our inventory, now would we?”

Roger snorted a disbelieving sound. “I may be a peaceful man at heart, sweet Esme, but I am not stupid. You’re checking to see if my people blew up your stores along with your camp.”

Well, at least we could be forthcoming about this.

Even then, there was a way to wade into the waters carefully. No one appreciated a running jump into frigid water.

I smiled at Roger, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “Is it so hard to believe that we wanted to check on you as well?”

Roger made a humorous sound in the back of his throat. “I only believe you because I know you so well.” His eyes flitted over my shoulder to where Ford was standing, and something pinched in his expression. He took a step to the side, making my hand fall back to my side as he said, “But I understand a dual purpose. You can see I’m fine. Now, let’s go check on your product. Don’t forget I wouldn’t want it to disappear, either.”

As we walked to the back of the barn, I stayed silent, subtly hinting to Ford that he should speak. The juxtaposition between sweet and serious was an old trick, played out in a million different iterations, but it was effective for a reason.

I’d be the balm to ease someone’s fear, then Ford would lean into his whole scary and big thing and hit them with a statement that they would interpret as a veiled threat.

“You’ll forgive us if we were concerned that our supply chain was about to be cut off,” Ford said, his surly voice slipping over my limbs with a warmth I didn’t care to address.

“If you’re asking whether there are plans to push you back over the Bridge, I know of none,” Roger said, fumbling with the mess of keys hooked to his hip while we spoke. “Though I’d expect that has always been the plan eventually, no?”

A rough laugh snapped in my throat as Roger stuck a key into a small, hidden hole on the wall. The entire barn was made of dark, aged wood with veins of every shade of brown imaginable running up the walls. It wasn’t hard to hide the keyhole on the false wall we stood in front of, appearing like an unimportant bend in the wall to the untrained eye.

Seconds later, Roger pushed open the door, revealing a thin closet that could barely fit a child in it. It was but a diversion to hide the trap door on the floor, which Roger kicked open in a practiced swipe of his boot.

Boots that were made of the same soft leather I’d seen him in hundreds of times. Nothing that could produce that distinct clicking I’d heard earlier.

Someone else—multiple someones even—were definitely here. If they’d slipped outside, I was sure that Sky and Shadow would be making that fact very, very known.

Ford and I shared a look, one borne of time and the need to communicate silently. It was natural to swing my gaze to him in a quick check in, but with everything that had just been revealed, that one second of eye contact felt heavy on my shoulders.

I blinked down to the floor, clearing my vision quickly before I moved to follow Roger down into the hidden storage room.

Roger went down first, managing the steep stairs with a level of agility that never ceased to surprise me.

I followed, barely paying attention to my steps and relying entirely on muscle memory. A mistake, I realized, as Ford moved behind me much quicker than he normally did, the heat of his back crowding my descent.

On the last step, I tripped, too distracted by the jolt of panic that shot through my chest at the proximity. I would have gone down hard if it wasn’t for the steadying hand wrapped around my upper arm.

The second time he’d touched me there, and it was no less shocking. Burned no less.

Letting agitation win, I ripped my arm forcefully from his grip and shot him a warning glance. I could feel Roger’s attention on us from my peripheral vision, and I could only hope he chalked it up to stress or a minor scuffle between paranimas.

We’d never played into the wild and possessive side of our Bond in front of others, having decided at the beginning it would be too difficult to keep up.