Page 25

Thatcher

I don’t like surprises.

Never have.

Not even when they’re good.

And these discoveries I’m uncovering about Allie…

?

Well, they’re not exactly a surprise trip to Vegas.

I had every intention of confronting Allie today, despite Griffin advising me not to.

Showing up at her house and asking her to explain herself.

But I made the mistake of diving deeper into research first.

Search results I had passed over and ignored a few weeks ago because they seemed so irrelevant now are giant, lit red flags in her honor.

And suddenly, I don’t want to see her.

I don’t want to talk to her.

I’m scrolling through Allie’s texts—each message another tiny knife to the trust I thought we were building.

Missed calls pile up like a testament to her deception.

And now, my computer screen glares back with older articles penned by her hand, peeling back the layers of her ambition.

Investigative reporter?

That was her dream, not fluff pieces about the latest fad diets or quirky food truck openings.

“Always digging for the bigger story, huh?” I mutter under my breath, feeling the sting of betrayal.

It’s like she used me as some steppingstone in her career climb.

Except, the ladder she’s on is leaning against the wrong wall.

On my computer, I have a tab open to a single article from years ago, when Allie was in college.

One tiny article in her school paper that isn’t about quirky food trends or cozy bistros.

Nope, it’s a piece about their Dean of Admissions embezzling money from the school.

And Allie was the one who uncovered it.

In the next tab, she’s being interviewed by the local paper as the person who discovered this and there’s a quote:

“Ms. Larsen, you’re so young to have uncovered something so dark about your academia. As a journalism student, was this always the plan?” “Yes,” she states.

“I’ve known for years that I want to do investigative journalism. And I knew that no one would take me seriously if I wasn’t willing to get my hands dirty and go undercover.”

Her aspirations stare back at me from the glow of the screen, mocking my gullibility.

My mind wanders back to the day we first met when she followed me out of the café into the alley.

She was never looking for a matchmaker.

She was following a story.

“I’m a colossal idiot,” I mutter to myself, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Allie isn’t just some food critic searching for love.

And this isn’t just about some fluff piece on love and matchmaking; it’s deeper, darker.

And I let her waltz right into my life with those hazel eyes wide with faux innocence .

Speak of the devil, the front door to my office flies open, and Allie bursts in, her chest heaving with panic.

“Thatcher! Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?!” She slams the door behind her, twisting the lock.

I sigh and lean back in my chair.

“It’s really not a good time, Allie.”

“Yeah? Well, unfortunately, we don’t have much choice.” She sets Biscuit down and rushes to the window, peeking out onto the street below.

“What’s going on? Why are you so jumpy? Or are you undercover on another story, too?”

Slowly, she turns to me.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. Allison Larsen. Aspiring investigative reporter. You’re very good at playing a damsel, I must say.”

She blinks a couple of times, her mouth parted in shock.

“Okay, yes, I—I lied to you,” she starts.

Her eyes glimmer, tears threatening to spill over.

“I never wanted to hire a matchmaker. I saw you at the coffee shop, talking to that girl through the earpiece on that bizarre date and... I had to know more.” Her voice cracks, vulnerable.

“I’ve been stuck writing crappy food reviews for years, barely scraping by. I saw this as my chance. But that was before I knew you. Before I…before I cared about you.”

“Did you know Soleil sent Logan to spy on me? To try to peek into my house and find out… god knows what about my life for your story ?” I watch her closely, searching for any flicker of deceit.

If there’s one thing I’m hoping for, it’s that she had nothing to do with that.

It doesn’t line up with the Allie I’ve come to know.

“She did what ?”

For a brief moment, relief sweeps over me.

“Yep. I caught Logan prowling around my yard last night. And your boss hired him. ”

Horror washes over her face, and I believe her shock is genuine.

“I swear, Thatcher, I had no idea!” She pauses to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Look, you don’t have to believe me right this second, but I swear to you, I never would have done this if I thought for a second I’d be putting you or Duke in any danger.”

I sure as hell don’t like the look on Allie’s face right now.

Like there’s a bomb here she hasn’t dropped yet.

I’m already standing, already bracing for the impact of whatever she’s about to tell me.

“But…?”

“But…we’re both in trouble.” At her feet, Biscuit paws at her legs.

She bends down, taking her tiny dog into her arms once more, burying her face in his scruff.

“What do you mean?”

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and frantic, clutching Biscuit so tightly the little guy lets out an indignant squeak.

“Drakon and some commanding officer of yours. I ran into them.”

Every muscle in my body goes taut.

“Where?”

“They were in Soleil’s office at the newsroom. They were waiting for me there.”

Rage coils hot and fast in my gut.

“Did they touch you?”

“No, they wouldn’t have there. Not with Soleil and all the security in the newspaper building. But they wanted me to take them to you. Obviously, I refused.”

“And yet…you’re here.”

“They tried to follow me, but I lost them.”

It’s my turn to panic.

I rush to the window, peeking out through the blinds, but it seems quiet enough.

“That’s not all though. They told me something…something that doesn’t make any sense. ”

I force myself to focus, to reel in the fury roaring through my veins.

“Tell me.”

“Drakon—he’s saying you were discharged from service for murder. That you murdered his brother...” She’s frantic, and I can see the genuine fear etched in her features.

“Murder?” I snap, my voice louder than intended.

I go still and the room suddenly feels smaller, suffocating.

I shake my head.

“That’s a lie.”

“I know.” Her voice is firm, but there’s a tremor beneath it.

“But why would they say it? They’re acting like it’s the truth. Like there’s official documentation to back it up.”

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face.

“The orders were clear, Allie. We were sent in to take out Drakon’s brother. It was sanctioned. I didn’t go rogue. Wait—” I freeze.

“You said one of my commanding officers was there, too? Who was it?”

She bites her lip.

“Admiral Brady.”

“Brady?” My head reels.

“That can’t be right. They were his direct orders to infiltrate and conquer Dmitriy Mikhailo, dead or alive, by any means possible.”

Allie’s breath hitches.

“Then why is he acting like he never gave those orders?” Her voice is a whisper, but it hangs heavy in the room.

I shake my head.

None of this makes sense.

“We need to find Griffin and Hunter. They were there. They’ll back me up.” I rush to my desk, yanking open the top drawer to pull out Griffin’s business card and thrust it into Allie’s hands.

“Here. So you have his number. In case…”

Her eyes widen, growing damp with unshed tears.

“In case of what?”

I gulp.

“In case…we get separated.”

A sudden clink from the stairwell snaps my attention away from the screen.

My head cocks to the side, ears straining.

My heart slams against my rib cage; I’ve heard this sound before.

Heavy boots, a sure step—it’s not the mailman, that’s for damn sure.

“You’re sure no one follow you here?” I ask Allie, eyes narrowing as I silently cross to the door, pressing my ear to it.

She shakes her head, but her eyes are wide, uncertain.

“I don’t think so. I mean—I lost them. I’m sure I lost them.”

But I know better.

Trusting gut instincts has kept me alive more times than I can count.

Drakon’s goons are here, I can feel it in my bones.

Another noise.

Closer this time.

My heart pounds.

“It’s them.”

Fear flashes across her face, but I don’t give her time to react.

I grip her wrist and pull her toward the far side of the room.

I press my hand against the bookshelf, revealing the hidden panel behind it.

The thick, reinforced wood of the door shudders under the impact of someone trying to force their way in.

Adrenaline surges, old habits kicking in.

“Dammit,” I curse softly.

“Get into the panic room,” I instruct Allie, pointing to the hidden door behind the bookshelf.

“You have a panic room?!” she squeaks.

I roll my eyes.

“Of course I have a panic room.” If we weren’t in so much imminent danger, her naivety would be fucking adorable.

I start to close the door, but she shoves her foot in the way.

She shakes her head furiously.

“No, wait! You have to get in here too!”

“They’re looking for me, not you. And if they don’t find me here, they probably won’t leave this office until they do. They’ll wait here to ambush me or Griffin or Hunter.” And while we might not be on active duty anymore, I’m still their commanding officer.

There’s no way in hell I’m going to save myself only to put them at risk.

“You’ll be safe in here,” I add, softer.

She grabs my arm, desperation in her grip.

“Thatcher, please!” Her voice trembles, but there’s an edge of steel in it.

She’s scared, but she’s not falling apart—not Allie.

With one hand, I cup her face, forcing her to look at me.

And with the other, I squeeze her hand, still clutching Griffin’s business card.

“Call Griffin and Hunter. They’ll know how to find me.”

Her lips part, but before she can argue, I press a hard kiss to her mouth.

For a moment, it’s just me and her and the one thing between us that’s always been perfect—our chemistry.

Then I step back and hit the lock, sealing her inside.

But as the door starts to roll closed, Biscuit wriggles free from her grip.

The little furball scrambles through the gap just before the door clicks shut.

“Biscuit!” I hear her cry.

“Stay in there!” I command, looking and speaking directly into the camera and microphone that I know she can hear me through.

“I will make sure Biscuit is safe!”

I pull the faux bookshelf forward, covering the door from view.

The office door shudders violently again, snapping me back to the immediate problem.

No time for a pity party now.

Biscuit skitters across the floor, his nails clicking against the hardwood.

I scoop him up, his little heart pounding against my palm.

“Not your day either, huh?”

I rush over to my desk, opening the bottom drawer.

I rip off the handle, allowing the drilled holes to give the little guy some air, then I stick him in the drawer .

“Stay here and stay quiet, you little menace.”

My eyes snag on the AirTag attached to his collar and I reach down to unclip it, sliding it into my pocket before shutting the little guy safely into the drawer.

The door finally gives way, splintering as two men barge in.

Drakon’s eyes are like ice chips, but standing behind him isn’t Admiral Brady like Allie claimed.

It’s Drakon’s second-in-command.

The Enforcer And his eyes, in contrast, are like dull lead.

It’s the first time the Enforcer and I have been in a room together, even though we are both very aware of the other.

I’ve been researching this man for years; I know every little thing about him.

“Where’s the girl?” Drakon demands, his eyes scanning the room, his gun level with my chest.

“Girl?” I feign confusion.

“If you’re looking for a date, you know, you’ve come to the right place. I’m a matchmaker extraordinaire. Meet cute or your money back?—”

“Cut the crap, Bryant,” the Enforcer snarls, his weapon joining the party.

“Your little reporter. We know she was here.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” I spread my arms wide, showcasing the empty room.

“It’s just me and my dashing good looks. She was here, but we had a fight and she ran off out the back door.”

I sure as fuck hope they don’t call my bluff on that.

There’s definitely no back door.

And judging from their sharp-as-glass glares, they don’t buy it.

But they’re here for me; Allie’s merely collateral damage in their vendetta.

“You came for me, right?” I try to reason with them.

“Well, you’ve got me.” There’s a casualness in my voice I’m far from feeling.

Inside, I’m all tight coils and ticking bombs.

Drakon nods at the Enforcer.

“He’s right. Forget the girl, for now. I think we spooked her enough anyway.” I walk forward, sandwiched between their guns.

Keep cool, play along.

It’s not over yet.

Griffin, Hunter, Allie , I think.

You’re up .

As we’re leaving through the broken door, I hear Biscuit let out a soft whine from under the desk.

Hang tight, little buddy .

This isn’t my first rodeo, and if I have anything to say about it, it won’t be my last.