Page 29 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)

While Cassidy simmered, Kenji paced the length of the room, his hands clenching and unclenching with restless energy that had nothing to do with tactical planning.

The failed mission with Van Der Merwe had triggered something ugly in his brain—the desperate need for the sharp focus that only cards and chips could provide.

The urge to find a game, any game, and lose himself in the mathematical purity of calculated risk.

"We need to approach Van Der Merwe again," Cassidy said, her voice tight with forced control. "Direct contact. No games."

"Negative." Kenji stopped pacing to face her. "Target's on high alert. Direct approach is a killshot."

"Oh, so your military genius worked so well this morning?" Her voice carried an edge that cut through his certainty.

The words hit harder than they should have. Kenji's jaw tightened. "We adapted to changing conditions. Better than sitting here running probabilities while people die?—"

"Running probabilities?" Cassidy shot to her feet, the maid's uniform rustling. "I'm tired of being moved around like a chess piece. Vega's doing it, you're doing it. Maybe I want to talk to Van Der Merwe like he's an actual human being."

"Because that's worked so well for you with Vega." The retort came out sharper than intended, fueled by his own fraying control.

Her green eyes flashed dangerously. "At least I'm trying something other than playing soldier with people's lives."

"Playing soldier?" Heat rose in his chest. "I'm trying to keep you alive."

"I didn't ask you to!" She stepped closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her eyes, smell the faint lavender of her shampoo beneath the industrial detergent scent from the uniform. "I didn't ask for a protector or a handler or?—"

"What did you ask for then?" He moved forward too, closing the distance between them until they were inches apart. "Because from where I'm standing, you walked into my life, turned everything upside down, and now you're angry that I'm trying to?—"

"Turned YOUR life upside down?" Her laugh held no humor. "You lost a poker game. I just helped Vega ruin two men. Oh, yeah. My own reputation, too."

The pain in her voice cut through his anger like cold water. They stood there, breathing hard, close enough to touch but separated by an ocean of unspoken feelings.

Spencer and Sophia exchanged uncomfortable glances as the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees.

"Okay, um..." Sophia said, gathering her tablets with diplomatic speed. "Maybe we should give you two some space? I need to check the storm preparations anyway. See what the hotel's emergency protocols are, maybe find us some supplies?"

"Oh, totally," Spencer perked up like a golden retriever hearing 'walk.' "I should come with. Safety in numbers, right? Plus it's getting super windy out there."

Sophia's expression shifted into that polite-but-firm smile Kenji recognized from high-stakes negotiations. "Spencer, I'll be fine. Just going to the business center and supply rooms."

"But what if?—"

"I'll stay in the main areas with other guests and staff." Sophia's tone stayed friendly but carried a finality that even Spencer couldn't miss. "Someone needs to figure out where the emergency shelters are, what the evacuation procedures look like."

Spencer's face fell slightly, but he rallied with typical obliviousness. "Oh, right. Reconnaissance. Totally get it." He brightened again. "I should probably secure our rooms anyway. Move stuff away from windows, fill bathtubs with water. Hurricane prep 101."

Sophia avoided his hopeful gaze as she headed for the door. "Back in an hour. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

"But seriously," Spencer added, following her to the door, "if you see any of Van Der Merwe's guys?—"

"I'll be careful," Sophia assured him. "Just going to gather intel, not pick fights with trained killers."

Within moments, the door closed behind them, leaving Kenji alone with Cassidy and a tension so thick it felt like a third presence in the room.

"Direct contact is suicide," Kenji resumed, but his voice had lost some of its certainty. Being this close to her, seeing the exhaustion and fear she was trying so hard to hide, made it difficult to maintain professional distance.

"And your tactical approach worked so well?" Cassidy didn't back down, her chin tilting up defiantly. "At least if I talk to him face to face, I'm taking responsibility for my own fate."

"Responsibility?" The word came out rougher than intended. "You want to talk about responsibility? How about the responsibility I feel every time you walk into danger? Every time I have to watch you sacrifice another piece of yourself to keep us alive?"

Something shifted in her expression. "Kenji?—"

"No." He turned away, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you at those tables, seeing what it's doing to you? I want to tear Vega apart with my bare hands, but instead I have to stand there and watch you?—"

He cut himself off, but the damage was done. The words hung between them, heavy with implications neither was ready to address.

"Watch me what?" Her voice had gone quiet, uncertain.

He turned back to find her closer than expected, close enough to see the pulse fluttering at her throat. "Watch you carry everyone else's burdens while refusing to let anyone carry yours."

"I'm not refusing?—"

"Aren't you?" He stepped closer, drawn by something stronger than tactical sense. "When was the last time you let someone else be strong for you?"

Her breath caught. "That's not?—"

"Fair?" He was close enough now to feel her warmth, to see the way her pupils dilated despite her defensive posture. "None of this is fair. Not what Vega's doing to you. Not what you're doing to yourself. And definitely not what you're doing to me."

"What I'm doing to you?" The words came out barely above a whisper.

"Making me care." The admission escaped before he could stop it. "Making me want things I can't have. Making me forget every rule about maintaining professional distance because all I can think about is?—"

He caught himself again, jaw clenching with the effort of holding back words that would change everything between them.

"Is what?" She swayed slightly toward him, as if pulled by the same magnetic force he was fighting.

"Nothing." He forced himself to step back, the loss of her proximity almost physical. "Forget it. We need to focus on?—"

"On dying?" Her voice cracked. "Because that's what's going to happen, isn't it? Van Der Merwe is hunting us, Vega has us trapped, and we're standing here pretending there isn't something?—"

"There can't be something." The words tasted like ash. "Not now. Not when I can't even protect you properly."

"I don't need protection." She moved closer again, relentless. "I need?—"

"What?" The question came out raw, desperate. "What do you need?"

For a moment, she just looked at him, and he saw everything in her eyes—the fear, the exhaustion, the loneliness of carrying impossible burdens. But underneath it all, he saw something else. Something that made his pulse race and his control fracture.

"I need to not be alone in this," she whispered.

The last thread of his resistance snapped. His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicted every hard edge he'd built around himself.

"You're not alone," he said roughly. "You haven't been alone since the moment you found that body."

"Then why does it feel like I am?"

"Because you won't let me in." His other hand found her waist, drawing her closer despite every warning bell in his head. "You analyze and calculate and strategize, but you won't just feel."

"I'm feeling now." Her hands came up to rest against his chest, and he wondered if she could feel how hard his heart was pounding. "I'm feeling terrified and exhausted and?—"

"And?"

"And like I want you to kiss me even though it's the worst possible idea."

The confession hung between them like a lit fuse. Kenji's control, already frayed by withdrawal and fear and proximity, shattered completely.

"Cassidy," he breathed, her name both warning and surrender.

"I know," she whispered. "Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong everything. But I?—"

His phone buzzed with an emergency alert, the harsh electronic tone shattering the moment like a brick through glass. They jumped apart, both breathing unsteadily.

HURRICANE WARNING: Storm upgraded to Category 3. Direct hit expected in 8 hours or less. Seek immediate shelter.

"Eight hours," Cassidy said, reading over his shoulder. Her voice was steadier now, but he could still feel the tension radiating from her.

Kenji's brain kicked back into gear. He was supremely grateful for something concrete to focus on besides the way she'd felt in his arms. "Van Der Merwe will be busy with storm preparations. Security protocols, guest safety, emergency procedures."

"Which makes him either more accessible or completely untouchable." She'd stepped back, rebuilding her walls with visible effort.

"We'll find out." He moved to his laptop, needing the distance as much as she did. "But first, I need to check in with Knight Tactical."