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“Let me kill him. Please?” I whisper with gravel in my voice, tasting vengeance.

“No,” my husband grumbles. “There’s something important I haven’t told you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

What a lead-up...“What is it?”

Griffin moves further back down the hall and out of Miller’s hearing. “He’s involved with some cult who’s got instructions to retaliate if he ends up dead. Shane is looking into it.”

“But wegotour funding today. Even his father turned his back on him,” I offer. “Without his hoity-toity DC status and privilege, maybe the cult won’t back him.”

“That makes him a lone wolf.”

Andthey’remore dangerous.

“Guess he’s playing one last card to avoid being thrown into rehab.” I think of a way to make him disappear that won’t set off that stupid cult. “We have to do something, Griffin.”

“There are things worse than death. I’m gonna bring him to within an inch of his life.” Griffin gives me his gun and balls his hands into fists. “Pain is a motivator I learned a long time ago how to use effectively.”

“God, I hate that miserable son of a bitch is a problem because of me. My past and what I did.”

“I never saw it that way.” Griffin grabs the collar of my jacket and pushes our foreheads together. “You didn’t ask for any of this. And you’ve made my life so much better.”

After a quick kiss, and with no warning, Griffin stomps down his hallway and pushes the office door open, forcing the wheelchair to tumble over.

Miller turns sharply. His eyes widen for just a moment until a cold smirk curls his upper lip. He’s so entitled, he doesn’t care if he gets caught.

“Get the fuck away from my desk, or do you want to lose the use of your arms, too?” Griffin’s voice darkens with a tone of fury that gives me chills. “How about your sight? Your hearing?”

Miller doesn’t freaking flinch. Instead, he casually lifts a hand showing off a flash drive with that cocky grin. “Too late, I’ve already sent a copy of your hard drive to the FBI.”

“FBI?” I ask, laughing.

“My brother monitors my IP.” Griffin folds his arms.

“Ihave secure lines to the bureau.” Miller slaps his chest. “I’m an insider, and I can make all the trouble coming your way vanish, Griffin, if you dowhat I asked.”

“What did you ask?” I seethe as if he has any right to askanythingof us.

“He wants you to marry him,” Griffin sneers.

I hide my shock at another secret he’s kept from me.

“Looks like you don’t need a wife now.” Griffin stays focused on Miller. “Your father declared you an addict. Good luck running for the senate with that hanging over your head.”

“Haven’t you heard? People love a redemption arc.” Miller sits there, all smug, like it’s his house and we’re the ones who broke in. “And with a gorgeous wife who’s been with me this whole time? It’ll be a hero’s welcome back into the fold.”

“A hero married to a woman who is best friends with an admiral you raped.” I keep Griffin’s gun trained on Miller.

His cheek twitches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let’s see how your testimony holds up against a retired three-star vice admiral,” Griffin adds.

Miller pushes back from Griffin’s desk, his leather chair bumping into the rear credenza. “I have enough dirt on you to ruin you, Quinlan.”

“Speaking of ruined...” Griffin pushes the wheelchair at him. “Is this a fucking prop?”

Miller grabs a cane that’s lying against the wall. Using incredible arm strength, he pushes out of the desk chair. Grinning, he props himself up and into a full-standing position.

“What the hell?” I ask, ready to echo Griffin’s question if his paralysis is a lie.