Page 29

Isabel

I tap my pen against the edge of the conference table, eyes scanning the screen of my laptop. The glow of the overhead lights reflects on the polished surface, and somewhere in the distance, I hear phones ringing and the soft hum of conversation—typical Maddox Security hustle. Across from me, Lincoln sits with a pile of case folders stacked neatly beside him, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reads through the latest intel on Asher’s assignment.

A wry smile tugs at my lips. Who would’ve guessed we’d be back at work like any normal day, I muse, after everything we went through. But here we are, piecing together leads for our colleague Asher. He’s currently undercover, posing as the doting boyfriend to a socialite named Charlotte in order to protect her from threats. It’s reminiscent of what Lincoln and I did not too long ago—pretending to be married, slipping into the world of Club Greed. But Asher’s case is (hopefully) less lethal, more about discreet surveillance and less about standoffs at shipping containers.

Lincoln’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, then lifts his gaze to meet mine. Our eyes lock, and a gentle warmth blooms in my chest. Even after everything his presence still sends a thrill through me. He arches an eyebrow in a silent question, and I give him a small nod, confirming I’m good. Just me, your new partner in crime—and in basically everything else.

He sets the phone aside and flips open another folder. “According to these notes, Asher’s next move is to attend some gala as Charlotte’s plus-one,” Lincoln says quietly. “We need to flag any potential security gaps, make sure no one’s tailing them to that event.”

I hum in agreement, scanning the digital map of the venue. “I’ve marked three possible access points that aren’t covered by the standard event security,” I say, clicking to highlight them on my laptop. “We’ll send someone to stake them out. Possibly Boone or Orion, whichever is free.”

Lincoln leans over, studying my screen. Our shoulders brush, and it’s ridiculous how that single point of contact sets my pulse thudding. I try not to smile too obviously, but the curve of my mouth is already betraying me. “Good call,” he murmurs, voice low and resonant. “Asher’s going to need all the backup we can spare if Charlotte’s as high-profile as these tabloids claim.”

I snort softly. “Her father and mother own half of Midtown real estate, and she was apparently a child star in a big film. So yeah—high-profile is putting it mildly.”

Lincoln chuckles, tapping a note into his phone, then sets it aside. “Any other flagged concerns?”

“No. Just triple-checking background checks for her staff.” I shuffle a few printouts. “But you know Asher—he’s good at blending in. He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Lincoln pushes back from the table, folding his arms. “Should we wrap for the day? We can finalize the plan tomorrow.” The question glimmers in his dark eyes, and I sense the unspoken Are you ready to go home?

A flicker of warmth stirs in my belly at the thought of “home.” Over the past few weeks, that term’s become fluid—sometimes my place, often his. Lately, though, we keep ending up at Lincoln’s place, letting the quiet presence of each other soothe the lingering nightmares. And the nights, I think, heat prickling my cheeks.

I close my laptop, tucking it under my arm. “Yeah, I think that’s enough for one day. Asher’s got plenty of notes to work with.”

We gather our things and step out of the conference room into the bustling bullpen of Maddox Security. A few colleagues wave or nod in greeting. I spot Dean in his office, glancing up from paperwork. He’s still nursing that shoulder injury, but he tries to hide the pain. Sophia’s in there too, perched on the edge of his desk—she shoots me a conspiratorial wink as I pass, as if to say, You two are adorable. My cheeks warm, but I give a quick wave, letting them be.

Lincoln and I weave through the labyrinth of desks and head for the elevator. The steel doors slide open, and we step inside. The moment the doors close, sealing us in a brief cocoon of privacy, Lincoln turns to me. A quiet intensity lights his gaze.

“You seemed distracted in the meeting,” he says softly, reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

A gentle flutter stirs in my chest. “Maybe I was.” I allow myself a small smile, stepping closer so that our bodies are nearly touching. “Hard to focus when I’ve got you sitting right across from me.” The confession sounds bolder than I intend, but after everything we’ve been through, I’m done hiding how I feel.

Lincoln’s expression flickers with amusement, and he leans in, pressing a featherlight kiss to my forehead. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms. Maddox,” he murmurs, a playful edge coloring his tone.

The elevator dings, and we break apart just in time for the doors to slide open on the ground floor. Exhaling a laugh, I hurry out, Lincoln beside me. Outside, the crisp evening air carries the promise of autumn—cool against my cheeks. Our footsteps echo in the mostly empty parking lot as we approach his SUV.

“Drive safe,” a security guard calls from the main doors, and Lincoln lifts a hand in acknowledgment. We climb into the vehicle, and I exhale a deep breath after a long day.

Once we’re on the road, I settle into the passenger seat, letting my gaze trace the city lights rushing by. It’s a comfortable silence, punctuated by the hum of the engine and Lincoln’s occasional glances in my direction. My heart thrums with a mix of exhaustion from the day’s work and anticipation for whatever the evening holds. Just you and me, finishing the night in your arms, I think, warmth blossoming at the base of my spine.

The drive to Lincoln’s house is mercifully short, and soon the familiar sight of his modest, cozy place greets us. As we enter, I shrug off my jacket, and the soft glow of a lamp in the living room bathes the space in a welcoming haze. It smells faintly of coffee and the spice-scented candle I insisted we burn the other night.

Lincoln closes the door behind us, locking it. His keys clink softly against the table. Then he turns, eyes searching mine, tension humming in the space between us.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confesses, voice low. “Even in that meeting.”

A smile tugs at my lips, heart fluttering. “I noticed,” I say, stepping closer. My hands find his chest, sliding upward to rest against his broad shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat matches the rush in my ears.

He leans in, and I rise onto my toes. Our lips meet in a slow, deliberate kiss—one that carries the echoes of relief, gratitude, and unspoken desire. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, until our bodies align. He lets out a soft groan, tipping his head to deepen the kiss. The warmth of his mouth sends sparks dancing along my nerves.

It feels like coming home. He breaks the kiss to press a path down my jaw to the sensitive spot beneath my ear, and I shiver. Each gentle brush of his lips dissolves the day’s worries.

“Bedroom?” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. My cheeks flare with heat, but the want surges too strong to hide.

A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest. “Yeah,” he says, dipping his head to capture my mouth again, this time more urgently. “Bedroom.”

We navigate the short hallway in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, stealing quick kisses and touches along the way. My heart trips over itself with every step, dizzy with the promise of what’s to come. Inside his room, lit only by the faint glow of a streetlamp through the window, I see our reflections in the mirror—two silhouettes pressed together, hungry for each other’s closeness.

Lincoln eases me backward onto the bed, his weight above me anchoring me in the best possible way. My hands roam across his shoulders, memorizing the corded muscles, and he buries one hand in my hair, the other stroking my side. Our kisses turn from tender to fervent, the day's tension giving way to raw need.

He pauses just long enough to look at me, breath ragged. “I need to be so deep inside you.”

I meet his gaze, heart swelling. “Yes,” I whisper, tangling my fingers in his hair to pull him back down. “Absolutely.”

The rest of the world melts away—no Lazarus Delgado, no shipments, no potential new missions—just the heat of his body against mine, the soft moans that slip free as he explores every inch of me with reverent care. My mind buzzes with a single thought: We survived. And we get to have this.

Time blurs in a haze of pleasure and whispered promises. When we finally come up for air, breathless and tangled in the sheets, my pulse thrums with contentment. Lincoln brushes a lock of hair from my face, his gaze warm and adoring.

“Worth the wait,” he says, voice husky.

I laugh softly, stroking my hand along his jaw. “Totally worth it.”

We slip into a languid embrace, the rhythmic beat of his heart under my palm lulling me closer to sleep. Outside, the city hushes under the late hour, and I nestle against him, safe in the knowledge that this time, nothing’s pulling us apart.

Tomorrow, we’ll return to Maddox Security, keep building a safer world for people like Charlotte—and for ourselves. But for now, in Lincoln’s arms, I savor the quiet triumph of surviving the worst and emerging into something better. Something that feels a lot like love.

Thank you for reading Taking What’s Mine.

Get ready for Asher and Charlotte in Defending What’s Mine, releasing June 13th, 2025.

Keep reading for the first chapter

Want Dean and Sophia’s story? CLICK HERE to read Stolen By The Boss.