They’d offered her a ride, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t Tucker, a rule that would have served her well back in St. Louis. It was too late for that now, but she could ensure she didn’t make the same mistake again, at least. Here in Johannesburg, she could maybe trust Jasper and some of the DARC Ops men, but when she was apart from her recent travel companion, something felt empty inside. It felt wrong. In contrast, when she and Tucker were together, it felt like they had been lifelong travelers. Tourists across the world. Between murder attempts, it had almost felt like a vacation, like they were two starry-eyed backpackers hiking through Africa.

Back when she had the luxury of enough time to contemplate having a boyfriend or a more serious partner, that was the exact scenario she thought of. Start off as friends and build a solid foundation together.

She frowned. Despite her foundation with Tucker having begun solidly, there were serious cracks, too. What they were doing now was a rush-job to pave over those cracks. He must know, too, that it was a precarious game.

Another precarious situation was waiting here alone. She knew what could happen to her, and she’d just seen what had happened to Tucker and Jasper. It seemed like no one was safe. She’d lost count of the amount of enemies, no matter the motives.

But it almost didn’t matter now. Macy could breathe just a little easier. She was finally leaving. And the idea of her sharing a boat . . . a cruise, with Tucker made it even better. She could endure any manner of uncertainty and paranoia, even fear, just knowing that she might be able to be alone with him again—and to have that as soon as tonight. They might even be able to finish what they’d started. For Macy, it was a continuation of something that had begun all the way back in St. Louis.

But he was still late.

Tucker was supposed to have picked her up twenty minutes ago, with all of her things from the hotel, and his things too, everything ready to head out. She was damn well ready.

Macy rose from the concrete bench to take a few steps around, wasting time, walking, when a black car pulled up. Her chest instantly throbbed with butterflies, excited to see him again. But the windows were heavily tinted. It might not even be Tucker at all. She took a few steps back away from the road and to her seat, waiting to see who had come for her. When the car finally stopped and the passenger-side window rolled down, she saw no sign of him. Instead, a middle-aged blonde woman looked out the window. She was looking directly at Macy, as if she knew exactly who she was. She hated when people seemed to know her. Knowing her meant they were going to try to kill her.

Or at least that was her learned experience. How long would it take to drop that and be normal again?

“Are you Macy?” the woman asked, her hand up in her hair, finger twirling it innocently.

“No.”

“You’re not Macy Chandler?”

Macy manufactured a look of puzzlement, and then gave way to annoyance. In her confusion it had taken a few seconds to be insulted at the obvious attempt to abduct her. Was no one really trying, anymore? “Who are you?” she asked.

The lady made a face. “What? We’re here to pick up Macy Chandler and bring her to the defense compound. We’re doing this for Tucker. Do you know her? Is she inside? It’s really important.”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

The woman inside turned to the driver for a moment, the car still just sitting there idling. In the meantime, Macy brought her hand instinctively to her side, near her gun. She held even tighter when the woman’s door swung open. She seemed to be Macy’s height, if not a little taller. Her smile was bright and innocent, and she walked with a type of youthful bob. She looked very athletic. “Hey,” the woman said, walking up the steps.

Macy wanted to tell her to stay back, and to do it in a cop voice, but instead she reverted to innocent Macy, simply saying, “Hey.” She even tried to smile, but she knew it looked pained.

The woman kept walking and Macy kept moving backward to maintain a steady distance.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

Macy said nothing, still backpedaling.

“Where are you going?”

It felt like she was being pulled back by invisible ropes. Macy kept moving, until she bumped into the door as it opened. And then she felt a hand on her shoulder.