Could that mean he’s not the monster I thought?
A good guy caught in the Night Ops Guard’s web?
The idea’s dangerous, but it’s taking root, and I hate how much I want it to be true.
Footsteps snap me out of it, and Travis appears, now dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, his hair damp and tousled. His eyes flick to me, and for a split second, I swear there’s a hintof embarrassment in them—like he knows I saw something I shouldn’t have.
I can’t resist.
“Enjoy your shower?” I ask, my voice teasing, a smirk tugging at my lips as I slide a coffee cup toward him.
He pauses, then chuckles, the sound low and warm.
“Careful, Little. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Travis growls. His gaze holds mine, playful but edged with that Daddy authority that makes my stomach flutter. “Anyway. Moving swiftly on.”
We sit at the kitchen table, the city’s hum a soft backdrop through the open balcony door. The coffee’s strong, just how I like it, and for a moment, we’re just two people, not a lawyer and a mercenary.
But Travis’s all business now, his jaw set as he leans forward.
“We need to talk about that threat,” Travis says, his voice steady. “The note, your apartment. I’ve got a lead, but I need your help to confirm it.”
I raise an eyebrow, sipping my coffee. “My help? What’s the plan?”
“I want you to go to your office at Knox & Rain,” Travis says, his eyes locked on mine. “Act normal, do your job, but keep your eyes open. You’ve never questioned your firm before, so you might see something now—something that was hiding in plain sight. Files, conversations, anything off about your bosses or clients.”
My stomach twists, and I set my cup down harder than I mean to.
“You’re still on this?” I ask, a little defensive. “You think Knox & Rain’s the problem? They’re thegoodguys, Travis. They fight for people like my grandfather, not against them.”
Travis leans back, his expression unreadable.
“Maybe. But I’ve seen enough to know things aren’t always what they seem. You’re smart, Miles, but you’re loyal. That can blind you. Just look, that’s all I’m asking.”
I bristle, my fingers tightening around my mug. “And if I don’t find anything? You’ll keep accusing my firm?”
“I’ll keep digging until I know the truth,” Travis answers, his voice firm but not unkind. “And you should too. Someone wants you dead, and it’s not just about the Guard.”
I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the memory of that note—Next time, you’re dead—stops me. Marcus Vane’s face flashes in my mind, his vow of revenge, but Travis’s insistence on Knox & Rain gnaws at me.
What if he’s right?
I hate the doubt creeping in, but I nod, reluctant.
“Fine. I’ll go,” I say. “But I’m not spying on my own people.”
“Good enough,” Travis says, then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, sleek device, no bigger than a button. “One more thing. You’re wearing this.” He holds it up—a tracker. “No funny business, Little. I need to know where you are.”
I scoff, crossing my arms. “A tracker? Seriously? What am I, your prisoner?”
Travis smirks, but there’s a glint in his eyes.
“Be thankful it’s not my internal tracker,” Travis laughs. “You know, the one I have toinsertmyself.”
I freeze, my face burning as my mind goes straight to the dirtiest place—imagining Travis, his hands on me, slipping something inside me. My thighs clench, and I pray he doesn’t notice.
“You’re joking, right?” I manage, my voice shaky.
Travis’s grin widens, wicked and knowing.
