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“You did good, Ryder. Don’t worry—I’ll let all the important people know who to thank.”
Reyes Vidal was all silver tongue and swagger. Ryder sized him up and smiled, reliving his timely arrival and masterful use of pyrotechnics. “We make a good team,” she said, imagining just for a moment—and only, she told herself, out of sheer relief for her narrow escape—the other kinds of trouble they could find together.
As the grin on his face grew wider, she belatedly realized that her assessment had been none too subtle. “Careful,” Reyes chuckled, “or I’ll start thinking you like me.”
“Would that be so bad?” She felt uncharacteristically bold with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
“Depends.” He flicked his eyes over her face, thoughtfully. Then, brushing past so close that her skin began to prickle, he said softly, “Don’t be a stranger, Pathfinder.”
Ryder stared at his retreating form, her stomach dropping like the Nomad in freefall down Kadara’s treacherous peaks. “I am so fucked,” she muttered.