God, he fucking hated boats—especially when he was being forced to cool his heels on the Sutherland family yacht, waiting for the DEA agents to arrive while Bianca was still out there. “Fucking DEA,” he mumbled. Blackfish promised he’d be on the beach with his agents in ten minutes. Taz wasn’t giving him a second more. “Take this.” Vivi held out her hand, holding two small pills. “You look like you’re about to puke, and these,” she pointed down to her combat boots, “are brand-new.” The former DEA agent was always such a touchy-feely one. Considering two of her best friends were being held hostage, she could come off as a cold-hearted bitch. But look a little closer and it was easy to spot her tells. The chewed up bottom lip. The strands of loose hair freed from her normally perfectly tied-back hair. And—most obvious—the way she’d failed to nail Keir to the wall with a snarky comment the moment he walked into the yacht’s makeshift command center.
