Page 22

I try to focus, clicking through my research files, but the laptop stutters, freezing momentarily before lurching back to life. I frown, clicking again. Nothing happens for several seconds.

“Come on,” I mutter, jabbing at the touchpad. The cursor jumps, then freezes again. I let out a frustrated groan. “Seriously?”

Both men glance at me. Hank raises an eyebrow.

“Technical difficulties,” I explain, glaring at the screen as my document loads painfully slowly. I drum my fingers impatiently while waiting for a simple file to open. “It shouldn’t take this long to load a Word document.”

“Maybe it’s time for an upgrade,” Hank suggests, returning to his phone call.

“It is an upgrade. My dad bought it a month before… before I was supposed to defend my thesis. It’s top-of-the-line.” I tap the keyboard harder than necessary, as if that might somehow speed things up. The laptop hiccups again, the screen freezing mid-scroll. “Dammit!”

I check the battery indicator—already down to 47% after barely an hour of use.

Perfect .

I’m about to slam the laptop closed when Gabe slides his tablet aside and approaches, standing behind me to look over my shoulder. His proximity is distracting in an entirely different way than my laptop’s issues.

“Let me guess,” he says, his voice close to my ear. “You haven’t backed up your files.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “I have… mostly.”

He makes a disapproving noise that shouldn’t affect me the way it does.

“We’re sorting out your tech situation,” he says, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. The weight of it is oddly reassuring. “Can’t have you losing all that research because of a faulty machine, no matter how expensive it was.”

I notice the battery meter drop another percentage point as if to emphasize his point. Dad would have his IT team overnight me a replacement if I asked, but that would mean contacting him and again defending where I am and why I’m here.

The laptop screen goes black for a second and then flickers back to life.

“I can make do,” I say, closing several applications to conserve power. I save the document I’ve been fighting with, feeling oddly defeated by an inanimate object.

I’m about to make a sarcastic comment about Gabe managing my life now, too, when Hank ends his call and joins us. His expression is serious.

With the laptop temporarily subdued, I glance between them, suddenly aware of the tension in the air. They’ve been whispering all morning, exchanging looks when they think I’m not paying attention.

“So,” I say, sounding casual as I close my laptop. “What’s the plan for today?”

Their eyes meet over my head, a silent communication passing between them.

“About that,” Hank starts, just as Gabe says, “We were thinking?—”

They stop, and Gabe gestures for Hank to continue.

“We need to get back to work,” Hank says carefully, studying my reaction.

“But we can’t leave you here alone,” Gabe adds quickly.

I wrap my hands around my mug, absorbing the warmth. “I don’t expect you to put your lives on hold for me.”

“It’s not about putting our lives on hold,” Hank says firmly. “It’s about your safety.”

“You’ve been kidnapped twice,” Gabe points out, his tone gentler than his words. “We’re not risking a third time.”

I can’t argue with that logic. “So what options are we looking at?”

They exchange another look.

“You could come with us,” Hank suggests, turning back to the stove to slide the bacon onto a paper towel. “Though watching us train all day might not be the most exciting way to spend your time.”

“Or we could call in,” Gabe offers. “Stay here with you.”

Hank hesitates, then adds reluctantly, “There’s also the option of having you return to your father’s house. Harrison and his security team would watch over you there.”

I immediately shake my head, the mere suggestion making my chest tighten. The last thing I want is to return to that gilded cage, no matter how well-intentioned my father’s protection might be.

I take a long sip of coffee, considering. The idea of being left alone makes my skin crawl, memories of captivity still too fresh. But I also don’t want to be the reason they neglect their responsibilities.

“I want to go with you,” I say finally. “I’d rather be bored in your company than alone with my thoughts or locked in a gilded cage at home.”

Relief flashes across both their faces, so quick I almost miss it.

“You sure?” Hank asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I’m curious to see what you do all day. When you’re not, you know…” I trail off, heat rising to my cheeks.

Gabe’s grin widens. “When we’re not what, sweetheart?”

“Rescuing geniuses from terrorists?” I deflect, raising an eyebrow .

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

The ease of this—the banter, the domesticity, the way they’ve folded me into their lives—should terrify me. Instead, I find myself leaning into it, craving more.

Gabe leans forward. “If you’re coming with us, you should meet with Mitzy. She’d love to see what you were working on to undermine Malfor’s plans.”

“She heads our tech division,” Hank explains. “The technical half of Guardian HRS. Didn’t you meet her during your debrief?”

“No, remember? My dad whisked me away. I mean, I had the initial one before the flight out, but that was it. I never got a chance to tell anyone. Although, I’m sure Malikai mentioned it. What’s Mitzy like?” I ask, curious about the woman who runs such a critical part of their operation.

Gabe chuckles. “Mitzy’s… unique. Brilliant doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“She’s got this psychedelic hair—changes colors weekly—and an energy that could power a small city,” Hank adds with a fond shake of his head. “Probably the smartest person in the building, and she knows it.”

“Guardian HRS has been working to thwart Malfor for years, but he’s slippery. Your quantum physics work, especially that side project on fusion reactor disruption?—”

“—that Malfor knows nothing about,” I say, understanding clearing my expression. “My side project was completely hidden.”

Hank nods. “Exactly. You were valuable for your quantum fusion expertise. Are you sure Malfor doesn’t know about your hidden modifications?”

“As sure as I can be. It’s groundbreaking and could be the key to undermining his plans. I’d be happy to share what I have, and it’s more along the lines of quantum entanglement than fusion. “Not to mention,” I say casually, “getting back to work will help me feel normal again. Like I’m more than just a victim—or, you know… the sex slave of two insatiable Guardians.”

Gabe chokes on his coffee.

Hank stops mid-zip on his go-bag, blinking. Then slowly turns.

“I’m sorry,” Gabe rasps, setting his mug down with deliberate care. “What was that last part?”

I tilt my head, keeping my voice innocent. “Getting back to work will help me feel normal?”

“Try again.” Hank’s lips twitch. “After that.”

“Oh… you mean the part about being more than a victim?” I flutter my lashes, biting back a smirk.

“You know damn well which part,” Gabe mutters, but there’s a glint in his eyes now—sharp, dark, interested.

“I’m sure I don’t.”.

Behind me, Hank lets out a low laugh, the sound rich and unbothered. “Luv,” he says, shouldering his bag, “I believe the term ‘insatiable’ is… generous.”

“I don’t know,” I toss over my shoulder. “Pretty sure someone in this room has a fantasy about full-time ownership.”

Gabe’s silence is electric. Heavy.

Then—quietly—he says, “Careful, Ally.”

Gabe doesn’t laugh.

Doesn’t smirk.

Doesn’t move.

The air changes, crackling like a live wire in the silence he leaves behind. Hank senses it. He glances between us, then quietly grabs his bag and gives me a subtle nod before stepping out, leaving the two of us alone in the echo of that moment.

Gabe watches me. Still. Steady. Like I’m a problem he wants to solve with his hands.

“I’m serious, sweetheart.” His voice is low. Gravel and warning. “Don’t play with words like that. Not with me.”

I cross my arms. “I wasn’t playing.”

He closes the space between us—slow, deliberate. No contact, but I can feel the heat coming off him. The restraint. The danger just beneath.

“You think it’s a game,” he says, his gaze locked on mine. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “I don’t play. Not with that.”

Something tightens in my chest .

“There’s a part of me,” he says slowly, “that’s darker than you’ve seen. That wants things from a woman most men would never admit to wanting. And if I ever let it out—really let it out—it wouldn’t be gentle. Or patient. Or safe.”

My breath catches.

“So don’t tease me.” His voice drops an octave. “You’re poking a sleeping beast, sweetheart, and you have no idea what he’ll do if you wake him.”

He’s close enough now that I can see the storm behind his eyes. Not just lust. Not just dominance.

Need.

The kind that consumes. The kind that ruins.

I should be afraid. I should. But I’m not.

Not of him.

“Then, I’ll be very careful.”

The words feel weightier than I expect once they’re out in the open.

Gabe doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve just tipped us into something we can’t come back from.

But then he exhales—slow and quiet, like he’s banking a fire that came too close to breaking loose.

“You’d have to be,” he says softly. “With me.”

I hold his gaze and let the silence stretch. My pulse thrums beneath my skin, hot, nervous, and exhilarated.

Then I force a breath and roll my shoulders, giving the moment a gentle shove sideways. “Well, lucky for all of us, I’m incredibly good at handling dangerous men.”

His lips twitch, but the heat in his eyes doesn’t fade. Still, the moment softens.

“I’m serious, Ally.”

“I know.”

He nods once as that answer satisfies him. Then steps back, giving me space.

I let the quiet settle for a heartbeat… then glance toward the galley where Hank disappeared.

“Besides,” I say, letting a sly smile curve my lips, “ if I can survive three rounds with you in one night, I figure I’m qualified for just about anything.”

“Three?” Gabe blinks. Then chokes on a laugh. “For the record, it was four for me and eight for you.”

“Ten,” Hank returns. “You forgot the one on my tongue and the one on your fingers.”

I blink, turning slowly. “How long have you been listening?”

“Long enough to know you got his message.” He doesn’t even look up.

“See what I mean? You two are literally keeping score. Insatiable.” I flush but lean into the counter with a grin.

“Jesus, luv.” Hank snorts.

“What? We’re all adults here.” I lean against the counter, enjoying this newfound power to fluster them. “Unless you two can’t handle a little honesty?”

Gabe recovers first, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that makes my stomach flip. “Oh, we can handle it. Question is, can you?”

The air between us shifts, charged with possibility.

“Teasing aside…” Hank checks his watch, his eyes flickering to mine deliberately. “You might want to be careful throwing around words like ‘insatiable and sex-slave,’ sweetheart. Sounds an awful lot like a challenge, and Gabe has only so much restraint.”

“Message received, loud and clear.” I lean against the counter, feeling heat rise to my cheeks despite my bravado. “Don’t poke the bear.”

Gabe’s eyes never leave mine. His breathing quickens, and his pupils dilate. The tension shifts rather than breaks.

“There are some tech guys at HQ,” Hank offers, zipping up his jacket and returning to practical matters. “They might be able to look at your computer if you still have issues.”

“And,” Gabe adds, adjusting his stance subtly as if his jeans have suddenly become uncomfortable, “they’re significantly less insatiable than we are. Probably haven’t seen daylight in weeks.”

“I should probably get dressed if we’re heading to HQ.” I glance down at my lounge clothes. “Give me a second? ”

Gabe exchanges a look with Hank. “You’re going to need more than a second.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, pausing halfway to the bedroom.

Gabe steps closer, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “Because you pushed one of my buttons, and now you’re going to have to deal with me.”