Page 37

Mila

T he second Penn’s G-Wagon disappears down the driveway, the weight of what I’m about to do settles fully on my chest. The guilt is overwhelming, but it’s competing with the equally strong conviction that I’m doing the right thing for both of us.

I give it ten seconds. Maybe fifteen. Then I’m moving.

I race upstairs where all my clothes are still in the guest room. First order of business: a text to Malik. I’m ready.

I duck into the shower, scrubbing quickly, regrets competing with affirmations running in my head on a loop.

I have to believe Penn will forgive me for what I’m about to do.

I dry off, throw on jeans and a sweater, pull my damp hair into a loose braid, and glance out the window.

I see Jackson’s Suburban in the driveway.

He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest, a neutral expression on his face.

But the sharp way his eyes roam the area tells me he’s very much on duty.

Nabbing my purse and tossing my phone in it, I set the alarm before walking out the front door. And then a horrible thought strikes me.

“Fuck,” I yell, and Jackson pushes off the SUV, on high alert. I point at the house. “The alarm. The notification I just armed the system will go to Penn. Goddamn it… he’s probably watching the camera right now.”

Jackson chuckles, opening the door and motioning me in. “We bypassed the system on our end so you could get out of the house without alerting Penn.”

“Oh,” I say thickly, realizing I’d suck as a secret agent. “That was… um… smart.”

“We are quite capable,” he says dryly.

I climb in and fasten my seat belt by the time Jackson slides into the driver’s seat. I’m a bundle of nerves, my stomach roiling and not from the fake food poisoning.

The SUV is cozily heated, music quietly playing. We pull away from the house, through the front gate, and Jackson glances at me.

“You sure about doing this?” he asks.

My stomach twists. “Of course I am. I trust you to protect me.”

Jackson’s brows rise ever so slightly. “I was more inquiring about you lying to Penn.”

I turn in my seat to look at him. “You think I’m wrong to do this?”

He’s quiet for a beat, then shakes his head. “Not my place to say. I don’t know your dynamics. Every couple’s got their thing.”

“Well…” I sigh, settling back into the seat. “I’m good with it. And I hope he’ll understand.”

Jackson doesn’t comment on that, which says more than words.

The drive to Jameson feels short despite the miles. Maybe because my nerves are strung so tight, I’ve lost all sense of time.

Inside HQ, the atmosphere is all business. I follow Jackson down the hall to the same conference room we’d been in before, and when the door opens, my eyes immediately lock on Peter sitting at one end of the table.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him since he surprised me.

He looks the same—pale and tired—but there’s something less guarded about him now. He rises to his feet when I enter, hands tucked awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” I say, my voice flat but not unkind.

“Hey,” he echoes.

I step closer, still wary, still unsure how to exist around him. “Thank you… for doing this. For meeting with Jace. For being willing to help.”

Peter’s gaze is intense. “I have to make amends.”

“To whom?” I ask.

“You,” he says quietly. “To Nathan’s family. To Penn for sure.”

I nod and move to a seat a few down from him. Already at the table are Kynan, Malik, Ladd, Greer and Jackson.

Kynan wastes no time.

“Peter contacted Jace last night. Told him that he would bring you to a meeting to talk. Jace is insisting he wants the meeting to take place at an abandoned mine outside of Carnegie,” he says. “It’s a few miles southwest of here.”

“That was his suggestion, not ours?” I ask.

Kynan’s expression is grim as he nods. “It’s not optimal. There’s no real cover out there. No way to get agents close without being seen. If he shows up with a weapon or backup, we need eyes and a quick response time.”

Malik speaks next. “There’s a small utility building on the property line, far enough back not to raise suspicion but gives me a clear line of sight. I’ll take sniper watch from there.”

Sniper. The word sends a shiver down my spine and I have my first moment of true doubt.

Malik must sense it and assures me, “It’s just a precaution.”

“Precautions don’t mean anything,” Peter says angrily. “Not if he brings a gun and shoots her as soon as he lays eyes on her.”

I feel nauseated and look to Kynan. “Mila… I hope you understand just how dangerous this is. Jace says he wants to talk but there’s a good chance he wants to hurt you.

It could be he wants to taunt you before he does something, it could be that he wants to hurt you slowly.

And there’s a chance he just wants to end you very quickly, and if that’s the case, Malik is going to have to be fast on the trigger. ”

“Oh, wow,” I murmur, pressing my fingertips into the edge of the table as I close my eyes to absorb that. When I open them, I laser them onto Malik. “I assume you’re good.”

“Very good,” he says. “I’ll put a bullet in him if he so much as makes a move near you.”

Kynan adds, “But again, you need to understand, we cannot fully guarantee your safety. Only that we’ll do our best. Are you sure you want to do this?”

I look at Peter and he gives a slight shake of his head. Just like Penn, he thinks this is a bad idea. I ask warily, “What else will you be doing to watch me?”

Kynan clasps his hands on the table. “We’ll wire you up. You’ll have on a Kevlar vest. We’ll have you on constant comms. We’ll have agents close by, but this is still very risky.”

“Give me a gun,” Peter suggests.

“Do you know how to handle one?” Kynan asks.

Peter’s face falls. “No, but—”

“Then you can’t have one. Besides, you get caught with a firearm, you’re going back to prison.”

“I don’t like this,” Peter says.

“I want to do it,” I find myself saying. It just sort of pops out. I’ve committed this far and I have to trust that Jameson—in particular, Malik—will have me covered if Jace makes a move.

Peter shifts uncomfortably. “Jace has been playing this close to the vest. I don’t know what he’s planning. He’s being secretive.”

“Which tells us he’s serious,” Kynan says grimly.

The next thirty minutes is pure strategy—mapping out the site, timing arrival points, discussing escape routes. Ladd and Greer handle details about the vehicles and positioning. Jackson outlines secondary plans in case Jace brings anyone with him.

By the time we’re done, I’m exhausted—not physically, but emotionally drained from imagining every worst-case scenario.

Kynan claps his hands together. “Advance teams are leaving now to scout the area and set up. We leave in two hours. Everyone get prepped.”

One by one, the room clears out until I realize only Peter and I remain. The silence is thick and awkward.

My brother shifts in his chair. I look around, anywhere but at him.

“Think we can talk a bit?” Peter asks.

My eyes snap back to him. “About what?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Like… what do you do for a living?”

I’m caught off guard by his interest. “Um… I’m a graphic designer.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“University of Central Florida. I moved in with Aunt Dorene not long after you were arrested.”

Peter nods, meaning that wasn’t news to him. “Mom told me that you moved out. I imagine it must have been unbearable there.”

“They hated me for turning on you,” I whisper.

“They were wrong,” Peter says, and my jaw sags slightly to hear him say that.

“They could have supported me and supported you at the same time. There was room for them to be there for both of their kids. Not to excuse them, but I think they took my failures as their own, so it was easier to blame you than face the truth.”

“I…” I suck in a breath and let it out. “I don’t know what to say. They abandoned me, and they did that so they could be there for you. I resented you for that.”

“As you should,” he admits quietly. “Every bit of this is my fault and no one else’s.

” Another beat of silence. “But Mila… I never said a bad word about you to them. Not once. I was upset, for sure, but you were and still are my little sister, and I would never turn on you. I hope you believe that.”

I stare at him for a long moment. “Strangely,” I say honestly, “I do.”

He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was a shitty brother. I was a shitty person. Prison didn’t make me better… but it sure as hell made me think.”

My throat tightens. “What are you going to do? After this?”

Peter lifts his gaze, his blue eyes so much like mine it hurts. “I don’t know. But I want to figure out a way to give back. To do something good. Won’t ever make up for everything I did. But it’s a start.”

It’s quiet for a moment—a strange, fragile truce settling between us. Peter seems to be on the right track. Maybe I’m willing to see what kind of man he becomes.

?

The drive to the abandoned mine feels like a slow march toward something insidiously final, but whose end it will be remains to be seen. I am sick to my stomach and my heart is working so hard, I worry it will explode.

Peter is silent beside me, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel of the rental car.

Although we shared a sandwich back at Jameson HQ and spent time with him asking me a million questions about my life and all he’s missed, we’ve barely said a word to each other on the drive to the meetup.

The old limestone mine looms ahead, gray rock and bare earth stretched like some ancient scar across the landscape.

Wide open. No trees, no cover. Just that utility building in the distance. I squint at it. I know Malik is already there, but I can’t see him.