Page 46 of Riptide
She typed:That's really kind. But I think I need to do this. Jessica needs to hear from someone who gets it. Someone in the same position.
Someone who was an expert con. Cara didn’t type that part.
Reagan:Okay. But I'm here if you change your mind. We all are.
Three dots again, then:You're not alone in this, Cara. Remember that.
Cara stared at the message.
Not alone.
When had she ever not been alone? Even with Dom Adler helping her escape, setting up the Margaret Sweet identity—that had been about survival, not family. About getting her away from people who wanted her dead, not about connection. Any family she had left, namely her actual father and his clan, were poison to her, people only wanting to pull her back into that old life.
There weren’t any friends from those days. None she’d even consider counting on.
She typed back:Thank you. See you at 7:30.
She set her phone down and pulled Tom's file on Jessica Forsythe across the table.
Inside, that photo of Shawn Forsythe stared up at her. Kind eyes. Gentle smile. His arms around two toddlers, both grinning at the camera. The picture of a man who loved his kids.
A man who'd paid Blaire everything he had and still ended up dead.
Below that, news articles about his suicide. A note from Tom:Found sealed in court records. Family tried to sue Mitchell, case dismissed.
And Jessica's information. Current address in Portland. Work phone. Personal cell.
Cara had to make this call before the meeting. She needed to know what they were dealing with. Would Shawn Forsythe’s sister help them?
But first, she pulled up a photo on her phone.
Gabe.
She'd taken it three days ago at the bakery, before Blaire showed up. He was laughing at something she'd said, coffee cup in hand, morning light making his dark hair look almost bronze. The laugh lines around his eyes deeper than usual. Happy. Relaxed. Real.
She'd taken it without thinking. Just wanted to capture that moment of easy happiness between them.
Now it felt like evidence of what she was going to lose.
When this all came out—when Blaire exposed her, or when Gabe's background check finally revealed the truth—this moment would be gone. This version of them would be impossible.
He'd have to choose between his feelings and his oath.
And Cara already knew which one he'd choose. Had to choose. He was too good a man not to take the obvious path. The legal and moral one.
She closed the photo and looked back at Shawn Forsythe's smiling face.
A good man who'd made the mistake of trying to hide from false accusations. Who'd been found by someone who turned human desperation into profit.
That could be her. Would be her if they didn't stop Blaire.
Or worse—it could be someone else. Someone Blaire would find next after Cara paid or ran or broke.
She picked up her phone and found Jessica's number.
Her thumb hovered over the call button. This was going to hurt. For both of them.
But Blaire's text sat at the top of her screen—the pink hearts and sparkle emojis wrapped around a threat. Around control. Around the promise of daily check-ins and tightening pressure and eventual destruction.
