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Ahead, a security guard spoke urgently into his radio, standing in front of a towering display of crystal champagne flutes arranged in a glittering pyramid.

The guard lunged at them, but Leo swerved, the scooter’s tires squealing against the polished floor. His hand flashed to her waist, securing her as he executed a perfect counterbalance, leaning so far left her knee almost brushed the floor.

They missed the guard by a hair’s breadth.

But the scooter’s rear wheel clipped the display, sending the entire structure toppling into a cascading waterfall of shattering crystal.

The guard threw his arm across his face and dove sideways for cover.

“Sorry!” Kat yelled over her shoulder, the word immediately swallowed by shopper’s shrieks of panic.

She clung to Leo as they burst through the arcade’s far exit at maximum speed, the scooter going briefly airborne as it clearedthe single step onto the pedestrian plaza beyond and shot across the open square.

Kat’s lungs burned as she dragged in air. The plaza stretched empty before them—no Eldridge, no tactical teams.

Leo slipped them into traffic like a ghost slipping through a crack in the world. Just another couple, out for a late-night ride through London.

As long as you didn’t look too closely.

14

Leo steeredthe scooter into a narrow side street, engine growl bouncing off wet brick.

Eldridge could still be tracking them. He took a deliberately circuitous route through a maze of back alleys reeking of rotting vegetables and diesel.

No tail visible, but that meant nothing.

Kat clung to him—thighs flush against his hips, chest to his back—her breath a warm rhythm on his neck.

As they crossed into Knightsbridge, the streets widened and the architecture grew more imposing. Traffic thinned as they moved away from the busier thoroughfares toward the wealthier residential district. Finally, they approached the private entrance of One Hyde Park, the exclusive residential complex where he maintained an apartment.

He took the service ramp down into the private garage—no CCTV, and security he’d hard-wired himself. He parked behind a concrete pillar and cut the engine. Sudden silence pressed between them. Her arms stayed around his waist a beat too long—then slipped away.

Leo dismounted. The garage stretched empty except for a green Bentley and a Porsche. Cold air carried concrete dust and motor oil, with an undertone of expensive leather.

Kat removed her helmet, revealing cheeks paler than he liked. But her eyes still blazed with determination. “That was unexpected.”

“Always have an exit strategy.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but remained silent.

He unclipped her helmet. “Eldridge is persistent.”

“And she has help. Korolov.” She shook her head. “Every time I ask a question, I get an answer and ten more questions. And not just about Eldridge. You. What is this place?”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know yet.”

Their eyes held, and something flared between them—an awareness that had nothing to do with adrenaline or danger. He reached for her hand. Her fingers were cool against his palm but steady as steel. Kat Landon didn’t fall apart. Not even now.

He paused at the elevator, pressing his thumb against the biometric scanner. The doors whispered open. The elevator ascended smoothly to the penthouse level. Leo kept hold of her hand—her closeness calming his pulse even as it jacked it higher. At his side, he could protect her.

The doors opened directly into his penthouse, revealing the expansive living space bathed in a milky moonlight now that the London rain had finally taken a breather.

He stepped out first, scanning automatically. Everything was exactly as he’d left it—pristine, minimal,secure.

“Where are we?” Kat asked, her gaze sweeping the space with professional assessment.

“My place.”