Page 24 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost (Nightfall Syndicate #1)

nineteen

Kade

I pull Alina closer, craving the taste of her lips again. My heart pounds as I lean in, but the shrill ring of my phone shatters the moment.

Fucking perfect timing.

Her lips are still parted, eyes hazy with desire when I reluctantly fish out my phone. Cole's name flashes on the screen.

"This better be important," I growl.

"Kade." Cole's urgent voice cuts through. "We may have found a lead on Roman."

My body tenses, snapping back to mission mode. "I'll be right there."

The warmth of moments ago vanishes, replaced by cold focus. When I look back at Alina, her cheeks are still flushed, but her eyes have sharpened.

"Kade, what just happened between us— "

"Not now," I cut her off, my voice harsher than intended. I can't deal with this, not when Roman's fate hangs in the balance. "We have a lead. Let's go."

Without waiting for a response, I stride toward the elevator. I hear Alina's hurried steps behind me, and regret stabs through my chest for cutting her off so coldly.

Her eyes are fixed on my face as we make our way down. The small space traps her scent around me, making it impossible to forget how she felt pressed against me moments ago.

"So we're just not going to talk about what happened up there?" she finally asks, voice low.

I keep my eyes fixed on the changing floor numbers. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Bullshit."

The single word, sharp and challenging, nearly breaks my resolve. I turn to her, finding her chin tilted up defiantly.

"Roman is missing, potentially dead. That takes priority over... whatever this is."

Something flashes in her eyes. Not hurt—determination. "For now."

The elevator doors slide open, revealing the bustling command center. Cole stands at the main console, his posture radiating urgency.

Jax glances up as we enter, a fucking smirk spreading across his face. "Well, well. Did we interrupt something important?"

"Focus, Jax," I snap, but there's no real bite to it.

"Hey, I'm just saying—" he gestures between Alina and me, "you both look a little... windblown. Must be breezy up on that roof. "

Asher snorts from behind his monitor. "Can we get back to the missing person now, or would you like to discuss the weather some more?"

I throw Jax a look that promises retribution later and turn to Cole. "What do we have?"

Cole's fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up a series of grainy images on the main screen. "Surveillance caught these near Pier 39. The figure matches Roman's height and build, but..."

I lean in, studying the blurry photos. The face is obscured, but something about the posture is familiar.

"Timeline?" I ask, forcing my mind to stay focused.

"Three days after he went dark," Cole confirms.

Alina examines the images, noting how her brow furrows in concentration. Part of me wants to smooth it with my thumb, to finish what we started on the roof. The other part—the Ghost part—knows exactly how dangerous that distraction could be.

"We need more," I say, frustrated. "This could be anyone."

Alina steps forward. "What if we work backward? Go through everything Roman was investigating before he disappeared."

I nod slowly, surprised at how closely her thought process mirrors my own. Roman kept much of his work close to the his chest, but there might be something we missed.

"That's not a bad idea."

"Don't sound so shocked," she throws back, the corner of her mouth lifting.

From across the room, Jax makes a whipping sound. I shoot him a glare that promises painful training sessions in his immediate future.

"Sorry, boss," he grins, not looking sorry at all. "Just observing that our journalist seems to be picking up the patterns faster than some of us."

"If you put half as much energy into the mission as you do into commentary, we'd have found Roman already," I retort, but there's no heat behind it. The team needs these moments of levity.

"Alright," I announce, bringing everyone back to focus. "Let's do a deep dive into Roman's files. Everything from the past six months gets a fresh set of eyes."

I lock eyes with Alina. "Think you're up for some serious document analysis?"

She straightens, an amused glint in her eye. "Born ready. Point me to the files."

"I'll work with you," I say, ignoring Jax's exaggerated eyebrow waggle behind her. "The rest of you, split up Roman's digital footprint."

Twenty minutes in, we're surrounded by documents, electronic files projected on tablets, and physical folders stacked on the conference table.

"Wait," Alina says suddenly, her hand freezing over a weathered manila folder. "What's this?"

She pulls out a faded photograph, holding it up to the light. My breath catches. It's Roman in a crisp naval uniform, his face unlined, eyes bright with purpose.

"I've never seen this before," I murmur, taking the photo from her. Our fingers brushing. "Roman rarely talked about his Navy days. "

Alina leans in, her shoulder pressing against mine. "Look at what's behind him. That's the Maritime Museum, isn't it?"

I nod, recognizing the distinctive architecture. "Good catch."

"And that compass on the wall," she continues, pointing to an ornate nautical instrument in the background. "It looks antique."

I study the photo more closely. "Cole, can you run this through image enhancement? Zoom in on the compass."

Cole takes the photo, his fingers dancing across his tablet. "There's a serial number visible. Faint, but I can just make it out."

While he works, I become almost painfully aware of Alina still standing close—her warmth, her scent, the slight pressure of her arm against mine. I take a half-step away, needing distance to think clearly.

She notices, of course. A small, knowing smile plays at her lips before she turns her attention back to Cole.

"Got something," Cole announces after a few tense minutes. "The compass was decommissioned years ago, but I've traced it back to a specific storage locker at the Maritime Museum's preservation section."

Asher pulls up more of Roman's files. "I've got something else. Look at these coordinates in his encrypted communications."

I move to his station, studying the pattern of numbers and letters. Recognition dawns. "That's an old military code we used during our early ops."

"Roman left us breadcrumbs," I explain, pointing to the pattern emerging on the screen as Cole maps the coordinates. "These form an old naval navigation route. "

"And they all converge at the Maritime Museum," Alina adds, leaning forward to study the map.

"He wanted us to find something there," I say, certainty growing. "Something he couldn't tell us directly."

"So, what's the play?" Jax asks, spinning a pen between his fingers. "We can't exactly raid a public museum."

I consider our options, eyeing Alina's press credentials on the table. "We go in officially. Alina, you'll pose as a journalist doing a story on naval history."

"So basically, just be myself?" That smile again, slightly crooked. "I can do that."

"Asher, you'll go as her photographer. The rest of us provide surveillance and backup."

As the team prepares, I pull Alina aside. "This isn't a game. We follow the plan exactly. No improvising."

She steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint cinnamon on her breath. "Do I strike you as the reckless type, Ghost?"

The memory of her lips against mine floods back with painful clarity. My gaze drops to her mouth before I can stop it.

"You strike me as someone who gets exactly what she wants," I reply, voice dropping lower. "Just remember—out there, I call the shots."

"Understood." She tilts her head, studying me with those penetrating green eyes. "Just one thing I'm curious about."

"What's that?"

"That military code you recognized..." Her gaze is too perceptive, seeing too much. "Roman wasn't just your business partner, was he? What aren't you telling me about your history together? "

The question hits too close to classified information—things about Roman and me that no one on the team knows, not even Asher. Things that could change how everyone sees us both if they ever came to light.

"We should go," I say instead of answering, turning away.

Her hand catches my arm, surprisingly strong. "Whatever we find at that museum... you think it's connected to why someone wanted him dead, don't you?"

I meet her eyes, seeing the sharp intelligence there. "Yes. And if I'm right, it might be why someone wants you dead too."