From the street, nothing looks different.Inside, every inch is layered with protection and it should make me feel secure.Instead, it makes the danger feel real in a way it didn’t before.You don’t install this kind of system unless someone is coming.
Cole finished the demonstration by arming it, the house emitting a subtle electronic chime that sounded almost polite.“Welcome home,” he’d said quietly.
He doesn’t turn when I come out of the bathroom, but I know he hears me by the slight set to his shoulders.
“You’re brooding,” I say lightly as I step into the living room.
He shifts, glancing over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes hits me before I can brace for it.
It isn’t irritation.
It isn’t even frustration.
It’s hunger.
His eyes travel—slow and deliberate—taking in the damp ends of my hair, the robe knotted loosely at my waist, the bare skin of my legs.A flash of heat runs through me in response, automatic and undeniable, and for a split second the air between us crackles with a dangerous energy.
Then his expression hardens.“We need to talk.”
I don’t like that tone.It’s far too serious and volatility rolls off him in waves, causing me to pull the lapels of my robe closer together.“Okay.”
“I talked to a man named Brady,” he says, and the shift is abrupt enough that it grounds me.“He’s a Jameson agent currently undercover at the Seattle PD investigating a corruption ring.I asked him to look into Erik’s death and what was happening in the investigation.”
I move farther into the room, the softness of the robe suddenly less comforting.“What did he find out?”
He gestures toward the couch.“Sit.”
The tone isn’t commanding, but it’s firm enough that I obey without argument.I sink into one end of the sofa, tucking my legs beneath me.Cole takes the opposite end, putting space between us like he needs it to stay composed.
“Someone pulled the garage footage,” he says evenly.“It was a high-level favor and it’s since disappeared.”
My stomach tightens.“I’m not following.”
“Someone—maybe Gavin DelRey—paid a dirty cop in the PD to erase the footage.”
I consider the implications but before my brain can get to where it needs to go, Cole provides me the most important part.“They saw you.More particularly, they saw Erik hand you the flash drive.”
The room feels smaller.“They’ll assume I’m a reporter,” I conclude softly.
“It won’t take them long to ID you,” he growls.
The weight of that settles into my chest.I’d known this could escalate.I’d known digging into RainVest wouldn’t stay quiet forever.But knowing and hearing are different.
“So,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “I’m officially interesting.”
There’s an edge in his voice now, sharper than concern.“You’re officially a target.We need to move you to Jameson.”
I meet his eyes, trying to stay unaffected.“That was always a possibility, Cole.That’s not going to scare me into hiding.”
“It should,” he says, scooting a bit closer to me and leaning forward slightly, forearms braced on his thighs.“This is exactly what I tried to tell you five years ago.This job is too fucking dangerous.”
Once again… the old argument, wrapped in new circumstances.
“You don’t get to do that,” I reply, my pulse quickening for reasons that have nothing to do with fear.“You don’t get to weaponize this against me.”
“I’m not weaponizing anything,” he shoots back.“I’m stating a fact.You walk toward dangerous things and then act surprised when they bite.”
I push to my feet.“I’m not surprised.I’m prepared.”
