𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯. Reece’s heart gave an unexpected lurch at the thought of him, and she was confronted with the re-emergence of feelings she'd long buried. Feelings she'd locked away in the deepest recesses of her heart, which now surged forth.
The timing had never been right. But if they made it off this train alive, could the timing finally align…for Reece Cannon and Tommy Shanahan?
Across the speakeasy, the bartender still polished glasses, his movements mirroring the rhythm of her pounding pulse. His eyes, wary and intense, watched.
A saxophone's melody of a familiar song flowed around her, its notes a reminder of her journey, of the battle she was gearing up to face.
𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦.
Shanahan entered the speakeasy and approached her. His hand, warm and steady, found its way to her shoulder, a silent promise of solidarity. Each touch was a thread woven through the tapestry of their shared history. It was a precarious position, a moment of equilibrium before the world tilted again.
"No sign of them yet," he whispered.
Outside, the Colorado River flowed near the tracks, an undulating mirror reflecting the bleak desert landscape of Utah. The view of the river seemed like whispered words of destiny to her, its currents carrying the force of their mission.
The speakeasy's hum faded into a hush, the previous merriment yielding to an anticipatory silence. Reece and Shanahan turned to watch the saxophone player, a solitary figure, backlit by the ghostly pallor of dim lights, as he moved towards the center of the stage.
He cradled his saxophone, its smooth curves gleaming with a life of their own. Then, like a sweet surrender to fate, the first haunting notes of Beethoven's fifth symphony seeped into the carriage.
To Reece, the notes were more than a melody. They were a living entity, breathing life into the space and resonating with the turmoil within her. The saxophone wept, its notes piercing the carriage like a siren's song. Its voice, rich and deep, clung to the speakeasy's walls, to the velvety curtains and the crystal chandeliers, to the hearts of those present.
It was a rendition of Fate itself, knocking at the door, relentless, insistent. 𝘋𝘢-𝘋𝘢-𝘋𝘢-𝘋𝘶𝘮. It wound its way around her, infiltrating her senses, matching the pounding of her heart. The strains of the symphony, full of power and fury, echoed the chaos within her.
The saxophonist played with a passion that was almost tangible, the notes flying from his instrument, seeking, searching, penetrating the deepest corners of the carriage, filling every crevice with its sorrow and determination.
"The devil is knocking, Reece," Shanahan whispered.
Reece caught sight of Amelia's deep brown eyes. Their gazes met, and in that moment, a shared understanding passed between them. The fight was at their door. Amelia now had to stay close; no place on this train was safe for her.
They were surrounded by danger, hidden beneath the deceptive mask of gaiety. The Sons of HUHI could be anywhere, watching and waiting.
Two more allies returned, ready, guns tucked under their jackets. But the team's determination and will were their real drums of war.
The door to the speakeasy opened. Reece caught sight of her target entering, and quickly signaled to the others in her group…
