Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
I step back, giving her space. “We’ll find other ways to pass the time.”
Rowan’s mouth curves faintly, bittersweet. “Like drills.”
“Like drills.”
She leans her head back against the couch and stares at the ceiling. “My life is weird.”
“Yeah.”
“I should have dated a dentist.”
“You’d be dead,” I say flatly.
Rowan looks at me, startled.
I continue, because it’s the truth. “A dentist wouldn’t know how to get you out. A dentist wouldn’t have the resources to cut off your digital trail. A dentist wouldn’t recognize surveillance patterns. You picked a fight with people who don’t care about the rules.”
Her voice is small now. “And you do?”
“I care about you living,” I correct.
The air thickens again.
Rowan’s eyes lock on mine. “You keep saying things like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like I matter.”
I hold her gaze. “You do.”
The silence stretches. Then my phone rings. The sound is sharp in the quiet room, like a knife hitting tile. Rowan flinches instinctively, then stills, trying to look unbothered.
I pull the phone out and check the screen.
Nash.
I answer immediately. “Talk.”
Nash’s voice comes through tight, controlled, familiar. “We have something.”
My gut tightens. “What?”
“We hit the storage unit,” he says. “It wasn’t empty. It was cleaned, but not perfectly. Banks pulled partial prints off a plastic bin, and Crewe found a ledger page hidden under the floor mat. Same word again. Prospect.”
My jaw clenches hard enough to ache. “Any names.”
“Initials,” Nash replies. “A.S. and R.K. We’re cross-referencing. Also found a burner with one contact saved. ‘E.’”
My blood runs cold. “E as in Elena?”
“Could be,” Nash says. “Or it could be something else. We’re not jumping yet.”
Rowan is watching me now, her face tense, reading the shape of the conversation.
Nash continues. “But here’s the big part. We got a timestamped receipt from a shipping depot. A package was sent two days ago to a private box in Charleston. We’re heading there now.”
“Be careful,” I say.
“We are,” Nash replies. Then his voice shifts slightly, softer. “How’s the principal?”
I glance at Rowan. She’s trying to look calm, but her fingers are clasped tight in her lap. “She’s holding,” I say.
“You holding,” Nash asks, because he knows me too well.
I keep my voice flat. “I’m on mission.”
Nash exhales. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
He grunts, like he expected that. “Elena’s resources came through again. Private investigator team and a legal contact in D.C. We’re moving faster because of her.”
“Good,” I say, because I mean it.
Nash lowers his voice. “Sin. Keep me updated about Rowan’s case. You don’t have to figure everything out on your own.”
“Copy.”
“We’ll update you after the depot,” Nash says. “Stay sharp.”
“Always.” I end the call.
The room is quiet again. Rowan’s eyes are wide, but she’s holding herself together. Still brave. Still trying to pretend she isn’t scared. “What was that?” she asks, voice controlled.
“My brother,” I say. “New leads. Same thread we keep pulling.”
Rowan swallows. “About your dad?”
“Yes.”
She sits up straighter. “Is it bad?”
“It’s movement,” I reply. “Movement is good. It’s also dangerous.”
Rowan’s gaze drops, then lifts back to mine. “And you’re stuck here with me.”
The way she says it makes my chest tighten, because it carries two meanings. I keep my voice steady. “I’m not stuck.”
Rowan’s eyes search mine. “You hate not being there with them.”
I don’t deny it. “Yeah.”
“And you’re still here.”
“Yes.”
Her voice goes soft. “Because of me.”
I step closer, stopping in front of her. “Because of the mission.”
Rowan’s mouth curves faintly. “That’s what you tell yourself.”
It’s what I tell myself because it’s the only thing that keeps my discipline intact.
Rowan’s gaze drifts to my mouth again, quick and unguarded. My body responds instantly.
With a white hot heat I can’t extinguish. I’ve got an urge to lean down and take what she offered, rules be damned. I don’t move. I force my hands to stay loose at my sides, not reaching for her, not touching her, not giving in to the simple truth that I want her.
Rowan’s voice is barely above a whisper. “How are we going to survive the waiting, then?”
I look down at her, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. “By staying alive.”
Rowan’s eyes soften. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re a wall,” she says quietly. “Walls crack eventually.”
I hold her gaze, and for a second, I let her see the truth. “I don’t crack,” I say.
Rowan’s mouth curves, sad and amused at once. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” I admit.
Her breath catches at the admission. She wasn’t expecting it. Then she stands, slow and careful, closing some of the distance between us. Not touching. Just near. “Okay,” she says, voice gentle now. “No arrangement.”
My pulse jumps anyway.
“But,” she adds, “you don’t get to pretend this chemistry isn’t here.”
I stare at her, jaw tight.
Rowan looks up at me, brave and scared and brilliant all at once. “I’m not asking you to break your rules,” she says. “I’m asking you to be honest about what it costs you to keep them.”