Page 6

Isabel

Spending time with Lincoln in this safe house is both comforting and unnerving. Comforting because I know he’ll do everything in his power to keep me safe; unnerving because I can’t seem to banish the warm flutter in my stomach whenever he’s near. I catch myself sneaking glances at him when he’s not looking—watching the way his dark hair curls slightly at the edges, or how his broad shoulders fill out that worn black T-shirt. He’s so silent and steady, like a fortress, which only makes me want to find out what’s really beneath that tough exterior.

Right now, we’re both hunched over the small dining table, combing through the notes he’s gathered on Morris Rolfe. The morning sunlight filters in through the window, making the wood grain of the table gleam. I can’t help noticing how Lincoln’s hands flex when he’s reading, the way his fingers grip the papers like he’s ready to confront them if they dare contradict him. Everything about him radiates control—even his voice, deep and measured, has a deliberate softness that sends a prickle of heat down my spine.

I drag my gaze back to the laptop and exhale. “Nothing new from my contact in Chicago. But she did say she might have a lead in Saint Pierce—a tip that Rolfe was spotted there recently.”

Lincoln lifts his gaze from the notes. “Saint Pierce? Now I think he might really be the man after you,” he says quietly. His brown eyes meet mine, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe.

I snap myself out of it. “If he’s in Saint Pierce, we can get there pretty fast.” I lean forward, pressing the arrow key on my laptop. “She says there’s an adult club called Club Greed, some high-end club. Apparently Rolfe’s been seen coming and going.”

Lincoln’s expression darkens. “Club Greed?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Sounds classy. Doesn’t Dean run their security?”

“Yes, but I’ve never been there.” Despite myself, I grin. “I’ve heard rumors about it. It’s more of a private, members-only place—one that caters to clients who want to remain… anonymous.”

His jaw tightens. “We can’t just walk in there, guns blazing. We need a plan.”

I cross my arms over my chest, feeling a flicker of excitement. “Well, obviously. But we should go see if the rumors are true—if Rolfe is there, we might catch him in the act of doing whatever shady deal he’s got going on.”

Lincoln shifts in his seat, staring me down with that calm, controlled intensity I’m starting to recognize as his default. “We can scope it out. Undercover. But we do this carefully, Isabel.”

“Carefully,” I repeat, rolling my eyes a bit. “Always so cautious.”

He levels me with a look that quickens my pulse. “This is exactly why I have to remind you. You’re all go, go, go… and that’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

My retort catches in my throat. He’s not entirely wrong—I do tend to rush in. But I’m not about to admit that to him. Instead, I shrug. “Let’s just say we complement each other’s strengths.”

Something flickers in his gaze, something warm that makes me feel like maybe I’ve stepped a little closer to the real Lincoln. “Right,” he says, voice a fraction softer. “So how do you want to handle Club Greed?”

I drag the laptop closer, skimming through the details. “If it’s members-only, we might need fake IDs or an invite from someone on the inside. But we won’t know for sure until we scope it out. I’d prefer to go in as ourselves, but keep a low profile. Maybe pretend to be a couple out for a wild night.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You think we can pass as a couple?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re hot enough to get in.” The words slip out before I can stop them. Heat flares in my cheeks, and I quickly add, “I mean, you’ve got that stoic, brooding vibe going on. I’m sure it’ll play well in a place like that.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “If you say so.”

We fall silent for a moment, and I realize how close we’re sitting. My knee brushes his under the table, and my heart rate doubles. There’s a current here, a charged tension that makes me hyperaware of every breath he takes. It’s ridiculous, the effect he has on me. I’ve known him for years, worked alongside him at Maddox Security, but we’ve never been this… alone. Never spent so much time in each other’s orbit.

I clear my throat, my voice a bit shaky. “So, we’ll head to Saint Pierce tonight?”

Lincoln nods slowly. “Yes, we can try.”

“Perfect,” I say firmly. “Guess I’ll have to find something suitable to wear. I didn’t exactly pack my best attire.”

He fixes me with a wry look. “Are you thinking a shopping trip?”

I shrug, forcing a nonchalant tone. “If you want me to dress the part, then yes.”

He inhales through his nose, leaning in. “Just as long as you don’t plan on climbing out of a bathroom window.”

My pulse kicks up. “Maybe. I like to keep you on your toes.”

He’s so close that I can make out the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint stubble shading his jaw. For a split second, we just stare at each other, and I swear the air around us crackles. A hundred thoughts race through my mind: how solid his chest looked this morning when he stretched, the way his lips move when he speaks, the protective warmth of his body that makes me want to lean in.

I’m not sure who moves first—maybe it’s me, maybe it’s him—but our knees press together more firmly under the table, and there’s a tiny shift of bodies until we’re just a breath apart. My hand drifts off the laptop and ends up on the table between us, close enough that his knuckles brush mine.

A wave of warmth floods my chest, followed immediately by a spike of panic—because what are we doing? We’re here to track down a dangerous criminal, not play footsie. I open my mouth to speak, but my throat feels dry.

Lincoln’s gaze flicks down to my lips for half a second before he pulls back, clearing his throat. The moment shatters, leaving me off-balance and a little breathless.

“So,” he says, voice deep and a bit raspier than usual, “we’ll go in tonight, see what we can find out about Rolfe. In the meantime, we prepare. Shop. We’ll need an invite without letting Dean in on our little plan.”

“Right,” I manage, trying to will my face to cool down. “I’ll dig into my contacts, see if anyone knows the manager or how their guest list works.”

He nods, standing up. He’s tall enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him. “You do that. I’ll make sure we have the right gear in case things get dicey.”

The safe house is definitely starting to look more like a command center. I can’t help a small smile—this is my element, and apparently, it’s Lincoln’s, too.

He picks up a black duffel bag from beside the couch, unzipping it to check the contents: earpieces, emergency medical kit, extra magazines for his weapon. Typical security detail stuff. I perch on the arm of the couch, tapping out a text on the burner phone I picked up, sending a message to one of my contacts who might know the ins and outs of Club Greed’s scene.

As I wait for a reply, I glance at him. “So, you have any idea what we’re walking into tonight?”

He arches a brow. “You tell me, since you’re the expert on adult clubs, apparently.”

I laugh. “Hardly. I just know they’re selective about clientele. We’ll have to dress the part, act like we belong. You may have to lose that scowl, for starters.”

A faint smirk touches his lips. “No promises.”

Our eyes meet again, and I feel that tug, that pull I can’t quite name. “Hey, it’s just one night,” I say lightly, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’ll gather intel, see if Rolfe’s really there, then get out. Simple.”

Lincoln’s smirk vanishes, replaced by a seriousness that sends a tiny shiver through me. “Might not be that simple if Rolfe’s there with armed muscle. You need to stick close.”

“I can handle myself, you know,” I say, though my heart twists at the concern in his voice.

He sets the duffel bag down, coming a step closer. “I’m not saying you can’t. But we both know how quickly situations can spiral.”

My breath hitches. He’s close enough that I catch a hint of his aftershave or soap—something woodsy and clean. For a moment, all I can think is how his broad chest would feel under my palms, how safe I felt pressed against him when he pinned me to that wall. That memory sparks again, lighting up my senses.

I swallow hard. “Yeah, I—I know.”

We stand there in silence, the electricity between us so strong I could practically light a lamp with it. It’s stupid, and reckless, and yet part of me wants to step forward just a little more, see what would happen. But then my phone buzzes, snapping me out of my trance. I jump, fumbling to check the screen.

“It’s my contact,” I say, scanning the message. “He confirmed Rolfe’s been in Saint Pierce. There’s a rumor he’s been making deals at Club Greed with the Russian bratva.”

Lincoln’s eyes flick to the phone. “Looks like we have our target, then.”

I nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” he confirms, that familiar determination glowing behind his eyes.

My stomach flutters again. This is happening, and I’m both excited and nervous—about the club, about confronting Rolfe, and about being so close to Lincoln in a situation that demands we stay in character. We’re about to blend into a world of flashy indulgence and hidden agendas. It feels like we’re stepping into the lion’s den—and part of me can’t wait.

As I slip my phone back into my pocket, I force a confident smile. “All right, let’s do it. Just… don’t cramp my style,” I tease.

His lips twitch. “You might be the one cramping mine.”

I huff a laugh, crossing my arms. “Oh, please. You don’t have any style.”

He takes a measured breath, stepping back with that same coiled grace he always moves with. “Guess you’ll find out tonight.”

And with that, he slings the duffel bag over his shoulder, leaving me with my heart thundering and my mind spinning at a thousand miles per hour. Whatever happens at Club Greed, I have a feeling it’s going to change everything—for better or for worse.