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)
Pretty isn’t even the right word.
Pretty is a painting.
Rowan’s a storm.
My phone buzzes again.
Banks: New intel. Ledger ties to a consultancy out of D.C. Name on the paperwork: A. Shaw. Ring any bells?
My pulse ticks once, hard.
Alden Shaw. Dad’s old handler. Or the man who used to be, depending on which version of the story is true.
I lock my face down and type back.
Me: It does. Dad’s handler. Keep digging. Carefully.
Rowan finishes her explanation, hands clasped tightly now on the edge of the table. She’s back to stillness, but I notice the shallow breath, the way her thumb rubs the side of her finger like she’s sanding off nerves.
Cal nods slowly. “You were right to push. You just did it without a shield.”
Rowan glances at me like she hates that word in this context.
“I’m not a shield,” I say, because if I say it out loud, maybe she’ll believe it. “I’m the guy standing between you and whoever thinks you’re disposable.”
Her throat moves when she swallows. “Comforting.”
“Accurate.”
One of the techs looks up. “Cal, we’ve got something.”
Cal turns. “Talk.”
The tech points at the screen. “Her phone shows a profile installed that shouldn’t be there. Not a normal app. It’s a management profile. Remote access capability, hidden processes. Whoever put it there wanted to monitor her without leaving obvious footprints.”
Rowan’s face drains a shade. “That’s… on my phone?”
I lean in. “How’d it get there?”
Tech shakes his head. “Could be a malicious link. Could be physical access. Could be someone got her Apple ID credentials and pushed it. We’ll know more once we pull the logs and compare timestamps to her location history.”
Rowan’s voice goes quieter. “So they’ve been… watching me?”
“Yes,” Cal says simply. “Which means we adjust. New phone. New number. New accounts. Anything tied to you gets treated like it’s burned.”
Rowan’s bravado tries to rise. “I can’t just disappear. I have sources. I have people who depend on me.”
Cal’s gaze stays steady. “You can, and you will, until we know who’s in your circle and how deep this goes.”
Rowan’s eyes flash. “That’s not—”
I place my hand lightly on the table near hers, not touching, but close. She notices. Her fingers twitch toward mine, then stop.
She exhales, sharp. “Fine.”
Cal looks at me. “We’ll also run a sweep on your vehicle, your comms, your routine. If they tagged your phone, they might have tried to tag you the second you got close.”
“They did,” I say. “The text came in while we were moving.”
Cal nods once. “Then we assume active surveillance. We go dark tonight. We move her to the safe house before sundown.”
Rowan’s gaze snaps up. “Tonight?”
“Yes,” Cal says.
Rowan opens her mouth, and I can see it, the fear she’s been swallowing trying to claw its way out. She’s brave, but brave doesn’t mean unshaken.
I tilt my head toward her. “You can do tonight.”
She stares at me for a beat, and there’s something raw behind her eyes. Not helplessness. Not weakness. Just the weight of realizing she can’t outtalk this. “Okay,” she says, voice softer. “I can do tonight.”
Cal’s expression doesn’t change, but his tone shifts a fraction. “Good. Because you’re not doing it alone.”
The tech keeps working, screens filling with data. A digital autopsy.
Rowan sits still, shoulders held tight.
I watch her and think about my brothers asking if she’s pretty. They have no idea. Pretty isn’t the danger here. The danger is that I’m drawn to her. That her fear makes something protective snap into place in my chest. That her humor makes me want to lean closer instead of stepping back. This was supposed to be simple. Keep her breathing. Get paid. Leave. But sitting in The Bridge with her beside me, I can feel the shift. The moment something stops being an assignment and starts becoming personal.
My phone buzzes again.
Nash: We’re moving on a new lead at first light. If Shaw is involved, Dad’s trail just got real. Stay sharp, Sin.
I glance at Rowan. She’s staring at the tech screens like she can will the truth out of the data faster. And I realize I’m going to have to juggle two fires at once.
My father’s ghost.
And the living woman beside me who is trying not to let fear show on her face.
Cal’s voice cuts in. “Sin. Walk with me.”
I stand. Rowan looks up immediately, and the flash of worry is quick, but there.
I keep my tone even. “I’ll be right outside. Stay here. Don’t wander.”
She gives me a look. “Yes, Dad.”
“Good girl,” slips out before I can stop it.
Her eyes widen. Mine narrow, because that was a mistake. Cal’s mouth twitches like he’s amused, but he keeps walking.
Rowan’s voice follows me, light and dangerous. “Did you just—”
I keep moving. Because if I stay, I’ll do something stupid like smile. And I do not do stupid. Not when there’s danger involved.
FOUR
ROWAN
The Boathouse disappears in the rearview mirror, but the feeling it leaves behind sticks to my ribs like humidity. Not the building itself. Not the sleek screens in The Bridge or the calm competence of Cal Hayes and the tech team. It’s the fact that someone put a leash on my phone. That someone has been watching me breathe and type and pace my kitchen at midnight, thinking I was alone.