Page 39 of Duty Unbound

“Any idea who leaked it?”

“Could be anyone. Someone in the production team, venue staff, even one of the backup dancers.” She massaged her temples. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is Nova’s freaking out because ticket sales have slowed, and sponsors are getting nervous. Just what we needed on top of everything else.”

“Are you excited about it?” I asked, steering the conversation away from the leak. “The tour, I mean.”

She laughed softly. “For Nova, yes. This is what she’s always wanted.” Her fingers traced an invisible pattern on the armrest. “For me? Tours are stressful. A million moving parts, endless problem-solving, and a lot of…”

“Babysitting?” I supplied when she trailed off.

“I was going to saypersonality management, but yes.” Her smile turned wry. “Nova in close quarters with her entourage for weeks on end can be…challenging.”

I studied her profile in the blue glow of the monitors. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.” She shrugged one creamy shoulder, and it was all I could do to drag my attention away from it.

“Do you like what you do? Or do you only do it because Nova’s your sister?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard. She was quiet for a long moment before answering.

“Nova’s success was our mother’s dream,” she said softly. “Mom put everything she had into making it happen—time, money, energy. She worked two jobs, went without sleep, ate cheap food so Nova could have the best vocal coaches, the best dance instructors.”

Her gaze drifted to the screens, but I could tell she wasn’t really seeing them. “It’s heartbreaking that she died just before Nova really made it big. She never got to see all her sacrifices pay off.”

“So, you stepped in.”

She nodded. “I grew up as part of it. I’m good at the job. And I love my sister, despite her…” She gestured vaguely. “Nova-ness.”

“But if you hadn’t grown up in it? If you could choose anything?”

Something flickered across her face—longing, maybe. Or regret. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

I didn’t believe that for a second. “What about art? You clearly enjoy painting.”

“Oh, that’s just for my own sanity,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “It’s not something I’d ever do professionally.”

“Then what? What would Mel Rivers do if she weren’t managing Nova Rivers?”

She glanced away, biting her lower lip. “What I really want…” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Nova needs me. That’s reality.”

I wanted to press further, to understand what she’d been about to say, but she changed the subject with practiced ease.

“What about you?” she asked. “Were you born a superhero, or did you morph into one as you got older?”

I huffed out a laugh. I had pat answers for questions like this—polished responses that satisfied curiosity without revealing too much. But something about the quiet of the room, the late hour, the genuine interest in her eyes made me want to give her more.

“I grew up on my family’s ranch in the San Luis Valley of Colorado,” I found myself saying. “Both my parents still live there. Good people. Hardworking.”

“Brothers or sisters?”

“One younger sister. She’s married, lives in Chicago with her husband and son. They’re happy.” I shifted in my chair. “I did things backward. Got a degree in forensics, then decided to join the Army. Spent just over ten years in, most of it in special operations.”

“And when you got out?”

“Security work was a natural fit. I had the skills, the training. Started Citadel with my savings and built it from there.”

She studied me, head tilted. “What do you like about it? Your job?”

That used to be easier to answer. “I like putting my skills to work. Having a team I trust. Keeping people safe.” All true, but not complete. I’d been using the dangerous, high-risk missions as an excuse not to sit still long enough to take stock of my life since my breakup with Samantha.