Page 129 of Accomplice to the Villain

“He was locked away and guarded when Blade got hurt, so as much as I’d like to put the blame on him, it wouldn’t get us anywhere productive.” That was so like Becky, to be logistical instead of emotional.

A skill Evie had never mastered and never would. But Evie was a master of masking her feelings beneath a cheery veneer, and she knew what it was to hide.

“Are you all right, Becky?” Evie asked gently.

Becky’s voice shook but steadied almost at once. “Not particularly, but I’ll survive. How are you all?”

They recounted their journey thus far as quickly as could be managed. Evie left out the more salacious points but promised herself she’d gift the HR woman with the gory details upon their return. If only to see her glasses pop off from how wide her eyes would fly.

“Every resource in the office is at your disposal, Ms. Erring,” the boss said. “Let us know when he wakes up or if you find anything suspicious.” The statement was so solidly delivered that there seemed to be a collective exhale among their group.

The untrained observer would assume the way he commanded his employees was without thought, but Evie knew Trystan Maverine better than most—better than herself, at times. His words of comfort were given without fuss and without flair. They were plain and easy and therefore believable.

Evie’s heart beat faster, in time to his name.

“Thank you, sir. I do wish you hadn’t ordered the rest of the Malevolent Guard on that mission, but I also understand. At least once they return, I’ll have more hands to restrain Fluffy.”

Evie’s blood froze.

Trystan’s every muscle tightened, his dark eyes locking with hers. “Rebecka…” The Villain said, uncharacteristically using the HR woman’s first name.

“Yes, sir?”

Trystan paused and confirmed the white-hot, icy feeling prickling at Evie’s neck.

“I didn’t send the Malevolent Guard on any missions.”

Chapter 67

Evie

Night fell, and so did Evie’s hopes.

“Maybe it’s a misunderstanding,” she suggested as the boss stared out into the distant night sky. “Maybe the lines of communication got blurred.” The rest of the crew had returned to their duties, the ship settling into a comfortable lull as it traveled along the Lilac Sea. The sun’s descent had prompted the crew to light small lanterns around the ship, casting a warm glow over an otherwise dismal situation.

Trystan said nothing, which normally wouldn’t have deterred her. In fact, under the guise of their everyday interactions, Evie would have continued into a babbling session that spilled one or two inappropriate thoughts aloud, but her mind was unusually quiet.

And unusually filled with dread.

After a deep inhale, he addressed her, keeping his eyes on the horizon. “The ship’s cook is baking you a cake.”

She blinked. “A cake?”

He looked at her quizzically. “A birthday cake.”

“Oh.” She paused, rocking back and forth on her heels. “What flavor?”

“Vanilla.”

Her vanilla drop candies. It was one of the most popular flavors when it came to sweets, so there was no reason to suspect that was why he’d chosen it. But the way he gave her a sidelong, searching glance…she knew.

Evie reached out and gently squeezed his arm. She swore he flexed. Or tensed. Either way, there were muscles moving in delightful ways beneath her touch, and she was not one to complain about such things. “That was very kind of you, sir.”

“Don’t remind me.” He shuddered like kindness brought a level of disgust his body could not abide. “In any case, as far as birthdays go, this is a dismal one. The least I could do was mask it with something sweet.”

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, and he went so rigid she thought he’d crack right down the middle. “The cake wasn’t necessary—you’re sweet enough.”

“So, you thank me by being offensive?” he responded dryly.