Chapter 40
They were completely unprotected.
The King Security Team was on the other side of the mountain fighting vandals. No one was at the Stingray compound. The infiltrators were ten minutes, maybe less, away from storming across the beach and climbing the cliffside to the house. There wasn’t much time.
Lachlan moved to the bookshelf that dominated the eastern wall. He slid aside a carefully selected row of leather-bound fairy tales, revealing a hidden compartment containing an arsenal that was a gun lover’s wet dream. He pulled out a Glock 19 and passed it to Britt, noting with grim satisfaction how naturally her fingers wrapped around the grip. He selected a compact SIG MPX for himself, along with extra magazines that he tucked into his waistband.
“In the pantry, a latch in the floor leads to an underground tunnel. It’s half a mile long and opens in the jungle about fifty feet away from the Stingray Compound,” he said, snatching the dark metal card from his back pocket and pressing it into her palm. His voice was steady, methodical. “Take Paloma there and wait for me. You’ll be safe inside. They might get to the compound, but no way they can breach the building.” With six-inch reinforced concrete walls, bulletproof glass, and a security system that required palm verification to enter any room, the compound was practically impenetrable to anyone without insider knowledge.
Britt's jaw tightened as she checked her weapon with practiced ease. “We need to stay together.”
“If you’re right, and it’s Quattro, then Alejandro sent them,” Lachlan countered, moving to another panel to activate the house's defensive measures. Steel shutters began silently descending over the windows, buying them precious minutes. “I won’t let him take you again.” He turned back to the security feeds. The team was racing across the beach. Too fast. "I'll create a diversion," he continued, mentally mapping his defensive position. "Buy you enough time to get away.”
“I’m not leaving you behind to fight off seven trained assassins?—”
“They don’t want me dead. They’re either here for you or for information they believe I have. Information that Titus wanted,” Lachlan reminded her. “Britt, we’re running out of time. You need to get Paloma and get out.” He cupped her face with one hand, allowing himself this moment of tenderness amidst the crisis. “The two of you being safe is the only thing that matters. Stop fucking fighting me on this. I’ll not let ye get hurt again.”
Britt blanched at his rebuke, stumbling backward. Her gaze flicked to the security feeds. The truth of his words registered on her face. Then, with a sharp nod, she turned and disappeared down the hall.
Lachlan followed, reaching Paloma’s room as Britt kneeled beside her bed. Paloma slept peacefully amid a fortress of stuffed animals. Her small chest rose and fell with the deep, untroubled breaths of childhood innocence, dark curls splayed across her pillow.
Britt gently shook their little girl’s shoulder. "Paloma, sweetheart," she whispered, injecting a forced lightness into her tone. "Wake up. We're going to play a game."
The little girl stirred, blinking owlishly in the dim light filtering through her doorway. "A game?" she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Now? It's still dark outside."
"Yes, a nighttime adventure game," Britt improvised, summoning a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We have to be very quiet, okay? Like spies. Can you be a super quiet spy for me?”
Confusion flickered across Paloma's face as she sat up, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. "Why do you have a gun?" she asked, suddenly more alert as she spotted the weapon tucked in the waistband of Britt’s yoga pants.
Lachlan intervened, knowing his daughter deserved as much of the truth as she could handle. He met her worried gaze. "Remember how Daddy told you about the special work he does? Keeping people safe?" His voice was gentle. "Well, tonight, we need to keep you and Britt safe."
Understanding dawned in the little girl's eyes—too much understanding for a child her age. This was exactly the kind of life he'd wanted to shield her from.
With solemn movements, he unclasped the medallion around his neck—the silver Celtic knot.
"Here, hen," he said softly, slipping the chain over her head. The medallion looked enormous against her small chest. “When you’re wearing this necklace, you’ll know I’m always with you. I’m protecting ye even when ye can’t see me.”
Paloma touched the medallion. “Will it keep the bad people away?” she asked, glancing nervously toward the window.
"Aye, it’s filled with all my love for ye. No bad people can beat that,” Lachlan assured her, his brogue thickening with emotion."But ye still need to be very brave. Can ye do that for Daddy? Can ye be the bravest girl in all the Palmchat Islands tonight?"
Paloma nodded, her chin lifting with a determination that so mirrored Britt's that it made Lachlan's heart clench. "I can be brave," she whispered.
"That's my hen,” he said, helping her into the clothes Britt had laid out—dark pants, a long-sleeved shirt, sturdy shoes good for running.
"Are you coming with us, Daddy?" Paloma asked as Britt quickly braided her hair to keep it out of her face.
Lachlan hesitated, warring between honesty and comfort. "I'll be right behind you," he said finally, the lie bitter on his tongue. “I need to make sure all the doors are locked first, like when we leave for vacation, remember?"
The three of them shared a tight embrace, Lachlan's powerful arms encircling both Britt and Paloma as if he could somehow imprint the feeling of them into his very bones. He breathed in the scent of them—Britt's perfume, Paloma's strawberry shampoo—storing the memory away like precious treasure.
He pressed his lips to Britt's in a desperate, passionate kiss that conveyed everything words couldn't—regret, fear, determination, and above all, a love that transcended their complicated history. Then he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
“I’ll meet you at the compound,” he whispered fiercely.
Britt nodded, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She was too strong to break now, too focused on the mission ahead—getting their daughter to safety. But Lachlan saw the storm behind her composed exterior, the rage, fear, and desperate love all warring for dominance.
"You better," she whispered back, her voice steady despite everything. "Or I'll come find you myself."
