Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I’m good,” I lie, flattening my palm on the balcony rail. The truth—Charlotte’s warmth still imprinted on my chest—stirs an ache I can’t hand over in a report. “Nobody’s better suited to keep her locked up and breathing. You know that.”
He’s silent long enough that gulls squabbling over the seawall fill the line. “Fine. Bravo team wants a full sweep brief, 11:30 sharp. I’ll patch you in secure.”
“Copy,” I say. “Send the agenda.”
“Will do. And Hawke? Check your six. Sinclair’s quiet is never good news.”
“Roger that.” The call disconnects.
I step back inside, pocketing the phone. Charlotte stirs, stretching like a cat, lashes fluttering. She rolls onto her back, eyes still hazy with sleep. “Morning,” she murmurs, voice husky. “You vanish on me?”
“Just a call with Dean.” I pour her a mug of coffee from the carafe room service left. “Conference at eleven-thirty. Pancakes now, tactical talk later.”
She sits up, accepting the mug. “You’re always working.” But her smile is soft, not accusing.
I brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “We both know Wade’s not done. I need to confirm Bravo’s coverage grid.”
“I get it.” She sips, then sets the mug aside. “Melanie’s meeting me at the pool at ten. Girl time.”
My gut twitches. Public space, civilians, wide angles. “I don’t like that,” I say automatically.
She arches an eyebrow. “Poolside, remember? It’ll be fine. Lots of civilians,” she says, mocking me.
I grunt, conceding half a step. “Keep your phone on. Text me every fifteen. If anything looks off—”
“I text the human fortress I call a fiancé. Understood,” she finishes, eyes sparkling.
I hand her a fork. “Lunch after my call. Somewhere I can see every exit.”
She laughs, slicing into a pancake. “Nothing says romance like line-of-sight.”
I lean down, kiss syrup from the corner of her mouth, and hold her gaze. “Romance is keeping you safe enough to tease me about it tomorrow.”
She softens, fingertips brushing my stubble. “Then I’ll be here tomorrow—and the day after that.”
It’s a promise, and a challenge. I straighten, slide back into operational mode, but the taste of syrup and Charlotte’s smile hangs with me long after. Wade may still be out there, but at 11:30 I’ll have Bravo, satellite feeds, and more resolve than ever. Because the mission isn’t just protect and serve.
22
Charlotte
The midday sun beats down on the resort’s infinity pool, turning the surface into a sheet of liquid glass. I lounge on a cushioned chaise beneath a striped umbrella, a sweating glass of pineapple lemonade balanced on my knee. Melanie reclines beside me, straw hat tilted low, sandals dangling off her polished toes. The air smells of coconut sunscreen and hints of chlorine. Somewhere behind us a speaker pipes lazy bossa-nova covers of Top-40 hits.
It should feel like paradise. Instead my pulse jitters with leftover adrenaline from last night’s activities. I swirl a toe in the cool water at the chaise’s edge, then glance at Melanie. Her smile seems genuine but her eyes keep darting to her phone face-down on the side table.
“You keep checking that thing like you’re waiting for the lottery numbers,” I tease, taking a sip of lemonade.
Melanie startles, then forces a laugh. “Old habit. Influencer life means nonstop notifications.” She sets the phone farther away. “Now, spill. You and Asher have been holed up for a while. I’m taking it, he liked the lingerie.”
Heat blooms under my bikini straps. I fiddle with the straw. “That obvious, huh?”
“Oh, honey,” she drawls, “Helen Keller could sense the sparks.”
I laugh but it comes out shaky. Part of me wants to gush—tell her how Asher’s lips felt like a promise, how his hands on my waist turned the whole ballroom into a snow globe with just us inside. I want to tell her about what happened after the event. Instead I take the scenic route. “He’s… different. Solid. When I’m with him, the noise quiets. It’s terrifying and wonderful.”
Melanie pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, revealing keen hazel eyes. “Ah, I wish I could be in love like that.”
It’s hard to talk to her about how I’m feeling without revealing the truth about us. “You’ll find it one day. It’s out there. I just know it.”
“Maybe.”
A thread of unease coils in my gut. Melanie is usually relentless with teasing, giddy for every romantic detail, yet today she keeps glancing away, fingertips tapping the armrest.
“You okay?” I ask, studying her. “You’re quieter than usual.”
“Me?” She flashes a grin too wide, too quick. “Perfectly peachy.”
“Liar.” I nudge her leg with mine. “Spill.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it and inhales. “It’s nothing big, just… some family drama. I’ll survive.” She waves a dismissive hand but doesn’t meet my gaze.
Before I can press, her phone buzzes with a message that makes her shoulders hitch. She flips it over so I can’t see the screen. The action is small, yet a chill slides along my spine. Something’s off.