Chapter 435
Since discovering that Marsha had fallen for Ronan’s schemes, Rylie had already mapped out how everything would play out. Competence was Marsha’s strength, and under the right mentorship, even a former rival could be molded into a trusted asset.
Precise as always, Rylie’s reassurances left no room for further dissent, and the pharmacists let the matter rest.
With the major crisis behind her, Rylie slipped back to the Owen estate, intent on catching up on much-needed sleep. She hadn’t made it far into the living room before Deandre, newly returned from a trip, called her name. “Rylie.”
Rylie paused mid-step, offering a small nod. “Deandre, you’re home.”
“If I’d stayed away much longer, I’m sure you’d have plunged into something even riskier.”
He rose from the sofa and closed the distance, his eyes scanning her from head to toe with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Rylie was dressed in a ladylike knitted long-sleeve dress, a crystal hairpin in her hair, and light makeup on her face—she looked every bit the sheltered princess, unaware of life’s challenges.
That delicate image clashed with the reality Deandre knew all too well—his little sister had confronted his mafia alone, eliminating the former leader’s son, and earned a reputation as the lethal sniper known as “Healing Hand.” Rylie looked every bit the picture of innocence, but as Deandre remembered her exploits, determination flickered back into his eyes.
No amount of sweetness in her appearance could fool him. He was set on uncovering the truth behind her actions.
“Tell me—what have you really been up to lately?”
A subtle smile flickered across Rylie’s face. “Really, Deandre, what else could I be doing? I only went to Kretol for a little break and happened to give Brad a hand with the navy’s medical tech problems.”
Suspicion sharpened Deandre’s gaze as he spotted a medical bandage peeking out beneath her hair. His hand reached up, parting the strands to reveal the injury. “How did you wind up on their ship? Did you get hurt again?”
Sensing his frustration building, Rylie gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice soft. “This was about protecting the entire navy’s health. For something that important, my bumps and bruises really don’t matter.”
His tone shifted, irritation now aimed at Brad. “Don’t try to cover for him. I know exactly what happened—you and Brad cooked up this plan together. You chose to sneak onto Ronan’s ship, a trafficker’s vessel, and Brad put you right in the line of fire. What if something had gone wrong? Do you understand how dangerous that was?”
Her interruption was calm but firm. “Let me set things straight, Deandre. The idea was mine, from the very start. Brad wanted nothing to do with it, but I pushed because I knew it was the fastest way to resolve everything.”
A frown still etched Deandre’s face. “You mean more to us than anything. You should be shopping with bodyguards, searching for some wealthy, loyal man to settle down with—not risking your life because of Brad. Look at what your involvement with him has brought: danger, kidnapping, endless worry!” No matter how harsh his words sounded, the love behind them couldn’t be missed.
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