Has been all morning.
"What's wrong?" I ask quietly.
He stiffens. "Nothing."
"RJ."
"Just thinking."
"About?"
A pause. "Security stuff. Nothing you need to worry about."
He's keeping something from me.
I know it, and he knows I know it.
But I also know that pushing him won't get me anywhere—not yet.
So I let it go.
"Any update from Ireland? Have you talked to your father?"
"Not yet. I'll call tomorrow, touch base. See if there's any new intel on the Krajncs."
"Okay." I snuggle deeper into his side. "Okay."
Later, when the sun is setting and the clubhouse is getting loud with evening activity, I find him on the front porch.
He's standing at the railing, staring out at the tree line with that focused intensity that means he's spotted something.
I follow his gaze, scanning the fence, the trees, the road beyond?—
And there it is.
A dark sedan, parked on the shoulder, maybe a hundred yards past the main gate.
Tinted windows.
Engine off. Just sitting there.
A chill runs down my spine. "How long has that been there?"
"A few hours." His voice is carefully neutral. "Maybe longer."
"Is it—should we be worried?"
"I told your father. He's aware. The club is handling it."
"That's not an answer."
He turns to face me, and something in his expression makes my chest tight. "I don't want you to worry."
"Too late for that." I step closer, reaching for his hand. "Talk to me. Please."
He's quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
"I don't know what's coming," he says finally. "But something is. I can feel it. And I need you to trust me, Dalla. Trust that I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."
