On the ferry from Catalina Island back to the mainland.
"Sebastian, what exactly are you doing out on that half-abandoned island? The Sinclairs are the ones developing it, not the Coles."
The man asking had a boyish, easy face. He hooked a fish off his line, glanced at it, then tossed it straight back into the water without a second thought.
Beside him stood a man who looked almost too striking to be real sharp cheekbones, a mouth that rarely moved, and a pair of lazy, hooded eyes that gave nothing away. A single dark mole sat just beneath his left eye, the kind of detail that made strangers look twice.
From any distance, Sebastian Cole read as untouchable. Cold money in human form.
He turned the lighter over once in his fingers, not bothering to look up. "Looking for someone."
Miles
