Not romance.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
Then headlights swept across the garage.
One vehicle.
Then another.
Then another.
Raven closed her eyes.
“No.”
Luke looked toward the driveway.
Three black SUVs rolled through the open gate.
They stopped in a precise line beside the farmhouse.
Doors opened almost simultaneously.
Men and women in dark suits stepped out.
Luke looked toward Raven.
“You said you didn’t need anybody called.”
“I didn’t call them.”
One man hurried toward the garage.
Early fifties.
Silver at the temples.
Built like someone who had spent part of his career wearing a uniform.
He reached the doorway and stopped.
His relief became anger.
“Ms. Steele.”
Luke stared.
Emma looked from the man to Raven.
Raven stood.
“Hello, Marcus.”
“Do not hello me.”
The security chief looked at his watch.
“We have had state police, two private air units, local dispatch, and half my department looking for you.”
“I switched off the bike locator.”
“I noticed.”
“The board has called thirty-seven times.”
“That seems excessive.”
“Your jet has been waiting at Dulles for three hours.”
Luke’s head turned slowly.
“Jet?”
Raven looked toward him.
Marcus noticed Luke for the first time.
Then the motorcycle.
Then Emma.
“Who are they?”
Raven’s expression hardened.
“Friends.”
Luke almost laughed.
“We met two hours ago.”
Raven glanced at him.
“Potential friends.”
Marcus walked toward the motorcycle.
His eyes moved to the replaced hose.
“What happened?”
“It failed.”
Luke answered before Raven could.
Marcus crouched.
“Failed how?”
Luke handed him the damaged line.
“I’d have somebody look at that.”
Marcus examined the cut.
His face changed.
Raven saw.
“You think the same thing.”
Marcus stood.
“We are leaving.”
Luke folded his arms.
“Leaving where?”
Raven looked at him.
“Apparently wherever billionaires go when their security teams get angry.”
Luke’s face went still.
Emma asked:
“What’s a billionaire?”
Luke did not look away from Raven.
“Someone with a lot more money than us.”
“How much more?”
“A lot.”
Marcus said:
“Raven Steele.”
The name reached Luke fully this time.
His expression changed.
Recognition.
Steele Industries.
Steel, energy systems, aerospace components, logistics, commercial technology.
A company large enough that Luke had heard the name even though he rarely watched financial news.
The woman standing inside his garage was not simply wealthy.
Her family was one of the wealthiest in America.
Luke looked at the money still partly visible in her hand.
Then at the old powdered lemonade on the bench.
Raven seemed suddenly embarrassed.
That interested him more than the money.
Marcus spoke into his earpiece.
“Principal located. Safe.”
Principal.
Luke almost smiled.
The language of people who protected valuable things.
Marcus turned toward him.
“Mr…?”
“Harper.”
“Mr. Harper, thank you for assisting Ms. Steele.”
He took out a small case.
Raven immediately said:
“Don’t.”
Marcus stopped.
Luke looked between them.
“What?”
“Marcus was about to offer you money.”
Marcus said: