Page 210 of Hard Pass

The Rebels offsite facility is quiet when I walk in.

So quiet that every sound echoes—my boots against the floor, the hum of electronics somewhere deeper in the building, and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

The last time I was here . . . the memory flips like snapshots through my mind. Dublin. Finding my tell on the film. The kiss we shared in the doorway. Her face when she opened her door to find me standing there.

The point of no return for us.

Becoming a couple. Falling in love. Confronting my dad. Solving the betting scandal.

All those points that led us to right here, right now.

I enter the main room and find Marcus. He stands near the massive wall of screens with his hands in his pockets looking exactly like the kind of man who’s spent his whole career learning how to show zero emotion.

Controlled. Calculated. Professional.

Dublin would hate that I just thought that about him. And somehow love it too.

“Cole.” He nods in greeting.

“Marcus.” I reach my hand out to shake his. “Nice to officially meet you.”

“Likewise,” he says but his eyes search mine for answers. Why have I brought you here?

“Thank you for meeting me,” I say.

“Of course.” His gaze flicks over me carefully, no doubt trying to figure out why the hell I requested this meeting. “That’s quite the setup out there.” He motions to the press room where reporters sit idly, waiting for the announcement regarding the investigation. “Should I assume that has something to do with why you’ve requested to meet?”

“You may,” I say. “But it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“And what exactly am I thinking?”

“That I asked you here so I could come clean about the gambling. Confess that I was throwing games,” I say.

He lifts his chin, eyes on me. “It crossed my mind, but if that’s not the case, why am I here? Is this about damage control—”

“It’s not.”

“Then?”

“Because you’re going to rehire Dublin.”

Marcus actually laughs at that, genuinely caught off guard. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“Cole.” His expression shifts, and he’s definitely more guarded now. “I understand you care about her, but—”

“You didn’t fight hard enough for her,” I say, trying to keep the anger from my voice.

Marcus stills, eyebrows raising and jaw ticking. Not exactly happy with my accusation.

“You know she’s one of the best investigators you have,” I continue.

“She is.”

“You also know she’s straight and narrow to a fault.”

“Again, not disagreeing with you. She’s usually extremely professional.”