Page 21

"Crow's already on it. Got three witnesses willing to testify, documentation that proves the fraudulent transfers." Vargan pulls up his sleeve to check his watch. "But we're talking hours, not days, before Royce realizes his intelligence is outdated."

Hours. Damn. Maybe less, if Morris starts comparing notes with whoever's been watching Nova's place.

"Where's Nova now?"

"Her apartment. Said she needed clean clothes and space to think." Vargan scrolls through his messages. "Got prospect Knox keeping watch from the street."

Should be enough. Knox is solid, building's secure, threats contained. Everything handled.

Except the restless thing in my chest won't stop pacing.

Won't accept that Nova's safe just because some kid with good intentions is parked across the street.

She's alone right now, processing what happened between us, and hell knows what conclusions she's drawing.

Whether she'll decide trusting me was smart or the biggest mistake she's made since coming to Shadow Ridge.

My instincts scream at me to stay put. Let her think without me hovering like some possessive piece of shit who can't handle five minutes of separation.

But I'm not listening to instincts right now.

"I need to—"

"You need to stay here," Vargan interrupts. "Let her work through whatever's got her twisted up. Woman's got enough pressure without you hovering."

My jaw clenches hard enough to crack a tusk.

Because the prick's right, and I hate him for it.

Nova's been carrying this whole investigation, the threats, watching her back every second.

Last thing she needs is me showing up like some clingy asshole who can't handle her being out of sight for five minutes.

But damn, sitting here doing nothing while she's alone—it's the camps all over again. That sick helplessness crawling through my chest, knowing someone I... someone important is vulnerable and I can't do a damn thing about it.

I yank out the secure laptop, fingers too tight on the keys as I scroll through Royce's files. I've been over them a dozen times, but I need something to focus on besides the feel of her in my arms.

My phone buzzes, and Knox's name flashes on the screen.

Lights went out ten minutes ago. All quiet.

She's trying to sleep. Or lying awake staring at the ceiling, replaying what happened between us. Deciding if she made a mistake letting me touch her.

Hell with it. I close the laptop and head for the door.

"Where you going?" Vargan asks.

"Brief the prospect on new threat protocols." Half-truth at best. "Morris changes everything."

Vargan's look says he knows I'm full of shit, but he doesn't call me on it. "Don't spook the kid too bad."

Twelve minutes through empty streets, and I'm questioning every choice that led me here. I park two blocks out and approach on foot—all the tactics I'd use for actual surveillance instead of whatever the hell this is.

Knox is leaning against his Honda, probably bored out of his skull watching a dark building. Kid's doing his job, staying alert, following orders.

Knox. Twenty-eight, eager to prove himself, smart enough to follow orders without asking stupid questions.

I step up behind him without a sound. He jumps, then relaxes when he recognizes me.

"Sir," he says as I fold my arms over my chest and lean on the car he's using for cover. "All quiet. No movement since she went inside."

"Any suspicious vehicles? Anyone taking too much interest in the building?"

"Negative. A couple residents came home from late shifts, nothing weird." Knox pulls out a small notebook. "Lights went dark twenty minutes ago."

I scan the building. Nova's corner unit shows nothing but a faint glow from what's probably her bathroom. Brushing her teeth, getting ready for bed, doing all the normal shit people do when they think they're safe.

"Protocol change," I tell Knox. "Morris is feeding intelligence to Royce's people. They might have detailed knowledge of law enforcement procedures."

Knox straightens. Kid's smart enough to understand what that means.

"Watch for operatives. Clean clothes, expensive gear, vehicles that don't belong." I nod toward the utility pole across the street. "Perfect sight line to her window. Someone with the right equipment could track her from blocks away."

"Should I report anything suspicious to Vargan?" Knox asks.

"No." My jaw locks tight. "You call me directly. Immediately. Don't wait for confirmation, don't try to handle it yourself." I meet his eyes, making sure he understands. "Your job is early warning, not heroics."

After explaining recognition patterns for surveillance teams and escape route protocols, I walk the perimeter of Nova's building.

Telling myself it's tactical assessment—sight lines, escape routes, vulnerable approaches.

The kind of sweep that's kept me breathing through wars and betrayals and every son of a bitch who thought they could eliminate the Ironborn's protection.

But that's bullshit and I know it.

This isn't about the club. This is about the woman sleeping three floors up, the one who said my real name like it meant something sacred instead of cursed. The one who let me see her come apart in my hands, trusting me with her pleasure and her vulnerability.

The one who might wake up tomorrow and decide she made the biggest mistake of her life.

I study the fire escape that runs past her corner unit.

Easy access for anyone with basic climbing skills.

The alley behind the building sits dark, no security cameras, perfect concealment for anyone wanting to get close without being seen.

Too many weak points, too many ways for someone to get to her.

Something predatory and possessive prowls through my chest, demanding I go upstairs. Demand entry. Make sure she's actually safe instead of standing down here like some stalker piece of shit who can't handle five minutes of separation.

Hell. When did I become this? This possessive prick who can't trust a trained law enforcement officer to sleep safely in her own bed?

The moment she said my name. The moment she surrendered to me completely and trusted me not to break her.

Now I'm the one who's broken, standing in the shadows of her building at two in the morning because the thought of something happening to her while I'm not here makes my chest feel like it's caving in.

I should leave. Go back to the clubhouse, let Knox do his job, stop acting like some obsessed asshole who thinks he owns a woman just because she let him touch her.

Instead, I find myself looking up at her dark window, wondering if she's really asleep or lying awake thinking about what we did. Whether she's planning to rebuild those walls I spent weeks tearing down.

Whether she's regretting the trust she gave me.

Damn. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid. Like climb that fire escape and check on her myself.