Page 20 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)

The casino bar's ambient lighting cast everything in warm amber tones, but Kenji felt nothing but cold dread as he watched Cassidy on the in-house tournament broadcast. Multiple screens showed different camera angles—wide shots of the table, close-ups of players' faces, overhead views of the chip stacks.

Commentators provided running analysis of plays that had nothing to do with poker strategy and everything to do with survival.

"What a rock star. She's holding up great," Spence observed, nursing a ginger ale while studying the main screen.

Kenji analyzed Cassidy's micro-expressions. The slight tightening around her eyes when the dealer signaled. The way her left hand rested protectively over her chip stack. The professional smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she mucked another winning hand.

She's stronger than she knows.

The thought surprised him with its tenderness. In his time with Knight Tactical, he'd protected politicians, corporate executives, witnesses in federal cases. He'd always been fiercely protective and professionally invested in their safety.

But this was different. Personal in a way that made his chest tight and his tactical thinking fuzzy.

Get it together. Compromised judgment gets people killed.

The familiar sounds washed over him—the soft click of chips, the whisper of cards against felt, the low murmur of calculated risks and desperate hopes. His hands tingled with muscle memory, fingers unconsciously mimicking the motion of stacking chips, counting outs, calculating pot odds.

The craving hit hard, like a punch to the jaw. Just twenty feet away, the blackjack tables beckoned with their promise of controlled risk. His remaining two thousand could easily become four, then eight, then...

Stop.

He gripped the edge of the bar, knuckles white with the effort of staying seated. The wood grain beneath his fingers became an anchor, something real to hold onto while the addiction whispered its familiar lies. Just one hand. Clear your head. You'll protect her better if you're centered.

Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.

The verse from First Peter rose unbidden, cutting through the rationalization like a blade.

His enemy wasn't just Vega—it was the weakness inside him that would sacrifice everything for the temporary high of cards and chips.

His phone buzzed with an encrypted message, pulling him from both the spiral and the prayer.

Ronan: Need secure comms. Strategy session in 5.

He rose, scanning the bar for potential surveillance, the movement helping dispel the lingering pull toward the tables. Too many people, too many angles, too many ways for their conversation to be overheard or recorded. "We need to move."

"Where to?" Spence asked, following him toward the exit.

He debated losing the guy, but Spence already knew the score. Better to keep him close. And two buddies searching out a quiet spot would draw way less attention than a lone man.

"Outdoors. Somewhere we can talk without an audience."

They made their way through the resort's winding pathways, Kenji checking for tails while his mind raced through secure location options. The beach overlook where they'd been earlier was too exposed. Hotel rooms could be bugged. The marina had too many of Vega's people.

He settled on the resort's northernmost parking area, where a cluster of rental cars provided both cover and multiple escape routes. Positioning himself with his back to a rental SUV, Kenji activated his phone's secure video application.

The Knight Tactical team materialized on his screen in a grid of familiar faces.

Ronan looked focused and grim, Maya was taking notes, and Zara had multiple monitors visible behind her.

In the background of Axel's feed, Kenji could see movement—Izzy and Deke loading equipment onto their private jet.

"Sitrep," Ronan said without preamble.

"Cassidy's holding her position, following Vega's signals to avoid immediate retaliation. Final target player—Reagan—is still in the tournament. Petrov was eliminated an hour ago per Vega's instructions." Kenji paused. "She's doing great, but she's running on fumes."

"Timeline?" Maya asked.

"Play wraps up for the day in ninety minutes. We rendezvous then for updated strategy."

"Roger that," Axel said, his image bouncing slightly as he moved equipment. "We're wheels up from Hope Landing in three hours. Flight time's about thirteen hours, plus refuel stop. Best case, we're on location in seventeen hours."

Seventeen hours. Way too much could happen between now and then. "Copy."

"Strategic question," Ronan continued. "Simple extraction versus full operation? We can get the women off the island, but..."

"But that leaves Cassidy vulnerable to ongoing threats," Zara finished. "Vega's reach is international. He's got connections to governments on three continents."

Maya leaned forward on screen. "Haven House gets destroyed either way. The blackmail material exists whether she's on the island or in witness protection."

"Plus," Deke's voice came from off-camera, "guys like Vega don't forgive and forget. He'll hunt her for the rest of her life."

“Copy that.” Exactly what he’d been thinking.

Getting Cassidy and Sophia away from Vega wouldn't solve anything—it would just make her a moving target instead of a sitting duck.

"So we take him down," he said.

"Not a small job," Ronan replied grimly. "We’ll need evidence. Charges that will stick. Something that dismantles his entire operation."

"What's available on the island?" Spence asked.

The team's attention shifted to him with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

"Financial records would be encrypted and off-site," Zara said. "Communications are probably secured through multiple layers. Physical evidence of trafficking operations wouldn't be kept at a luxury resort."

"Witness testimony?" Maya suggested.

"Everyone's either loyal or terrified," Kenji said. "Vega's had years to build this network."

"Electronic surveillance?" Axel offered.

"Would require equipment and time we don't have," Ronan concluded.

Frustration radiated through the video call as each option hit the same wall—resources, time, or access they simply didn't possess. He was the only operative on the ground, responsible for two civilians and facing an enemy with unlimited resources.

"What about his…what do you call it?” Spence snapped his fingers, eyes rolling skyward. “Security guy–– I mean security chief?"

On screen, the Knight Tactical team exchanged glances. Ronan leaned back in his chair, considering.

"How do you mean?" Kenji asked.

"I mean," Spence continued, encouraged by the attention, "The head security guy knows everything, right? My dad's does." He shuddered. "I don't even wanna know what that guy knows. Plus, they’re not part of the management team. Loners, right? They're the easiest dudes to replace."

Ronan leaned closer to the camera. "Guy's got a point. Security chiefs are always the fall guys when things go wrong. They know that. Plus, they're usually ex-military or intelligence. They understand the difference between loyalty and survival."

"And they're not into the day to day deets of running the business.

" Spence's head bobbed as he warmed to his topic.

"Like you wouldn't want the CFO dropping dead on a dime.

Trust me. That happened to my dad. It took months to follow all the money trails.

But your basic security chief is all about, like, security. Not so hard to hire another pro."

"Kenji, your friend has a point," Maya said slowly. "Security personnel have access to everything but the least job security."

"Question is leverage," Zara added. "What would make one flip?"

"Financial incentives," Axel suggested.

"No good without an immunity deal," Deke called from off-camera. "Get the target arrested on something, offer to make the charges disappear in exchange for cooperation."

Kenji started working through the possibilities. "I'd need to identify a target first. Figure out his background, his vulnerabilities."

"Can you get close enough?" Ronan asked.

"Maybe. These guys rotate through public areas, and Spence here is chatty enough to strike up conversations with anyone."

"Hey," Spence protested mildly.

"It's a compliment," Kenji assured him. "Your ability to talk to people without seeming threatening could be useful."

On screen, Ronan was nodding slowly. "It's risky, but it's the only play that doesn't leave Cassidy vulnerable long-term."

"What's the timeline?" Maya asked.

Kenji checked his watch. "Tournament runs until about 10pm local time. Then break until morning. Vega's people will be most relaxed during dinner hours. If we're going to approach someone, that's our window."

"Roger. We'll prep background research on likely candidates," Zara said. "Send photos if you can get them."

"And Kenji?" Ronan's voice carried the weight of command. “If it goes sideways, extraction becomes the only option. Whatever the fallout."

"Understood."

The screen went dark for a moment before Ronan reappeared alone. "One more thing. Twenty-five K wired to your account. Admiral wasn't thrilled, but operational expenses approved. If you need to stay in play, we've got your back. Stay safe."

The line went dead.

Kenji nodded, head bobbing like an idiot as he tried to swallow the guilt stuck in his throat. His gambling debt—the financial noose that had been tightening around his neck for months—suddenly didn't exist. The relief was so intense it made him dizzy.

He texted back quickly:

Many thanx. Won't be necessary, though. Already eliminated from tournament. Cassidy's handling the table work.

Ronan: Copy that. Good hunting, brother.

For the first time since he'd busted out of the tournament, Kenji felt something approaching hope. His team had his back, they had a viable plan, and despite everything, they were making progress.

The guilt remained, though, sharp as ever. He'd lied to get this money, used Cassidy's danger as cover for his own failures.

"So," Spence said cheerfully, breaking into his thoughts, "this is way more exciting than trust fund management."

Despite everything, he almost smiled. "Just remember—you're not trained for this. Follow my lead, don't improvise, and if things go wrong, your job is to get Cassidy and Sophia to safety. Head for the far side of the island. Hide out until my team finds you."

"You can count on me, K-Man.”

“I know.”

His phone buzzed again. The banking app confirming the wire transfer. Twenty-five thousand dollars.

Freedom from Vince.

The second chance he didn't deserve.

He feigned concern. “You go ahead,” he told Spencer. “Ronan needs some data here. I’ll be right behind you.”

Once Spencer headed off, he texted the bookie.

Cash ready to transfer immediately. All of it.

A string of numbers was Vince’s only response.

An account number.

Kenji logged into his bank account and sent the funds. He waited for the rush of relief.

Nothing.

Because getting Vince off his back had only gotten him in deeper with his team.