Travis grabs a book from the shelf—a worn copy ofThe Velveteen Rabbit—and sits on the edge of the bed.
“Scoot over,” Travis says, and I do, curling up under the covers, Bean tucked under my arm.
His voice is deep, soothing, as he reads, the story’s gentle rhythm pulling me toward sleep. I watch his face, the way his jaw moves, the flicker of something soft in his eyes.
Travis is a Night Ops Guard, a man I should fear, but right now, he’s just Travis, reading to me like I’m the only thing that matters. My eyelids grow heavy, and as he reaches the part where the rabbit becomes real, I’m drifting, the world fading into a warm, safe haze.
I wake briefly as Travis tucks the blanket around me, his hand brushing my cheek.
“Sleep tight, Little,” he whispers, and I mumble something incoherent, clutching Bean tighter.
As I slip back into sleep, I feel safer, more fulfilled, than I can ever remember feeling. The doubts about Knox & Rain, the fear of the threat, even the pull of Travis’s Daddy side—they’re still there, but for now, they’re distant.
All I know is this moment, this warmth, and the quiet certainty that, with Travis watching over me, I’m okay—my Daddy won’t ever let anything bad happen to me…
Chapter 14
Travis
Miles is fast asleep in the guest room, his soft breaths barely audible through the cracked door, Bean tucked under his arm like a talisman.
The image of him—curled up, vulnerable, trusting me after that bath and story time—sits heavy in my chest. I shake it off, focusing on the task at hand as I open my apartment door…
Cole and Max step inside, their boots quiet on the hardwood, their faces grim but alert. The city’s glow spills through the windows, casting long shadows across my sparse living area. I nod at them, heading to the kitchen counter to grab the whisky bottle and three glasses. The amber liquid glints as I pour, the burn of it already promising to ground me.
We settle on the couch and chairs, the glasses clinking softly as we sit.
Cole, strong and sharp-eyed, sips his whisky, his gaze flicking to the guest room door.
“He’s out cold, huh?” he says, his voice low. “Good. We need to talk.”
I nod, leaning back, my own glass cool against my palm.
“What’s the latest?”
Cole sets his drink down, his expression all business. “Knox & Rain are deeper in this cartel mess than we thought. Victor Rodrygo, that guy you saw with Kyle Knox? He’s not just a consultant. He’s a fixer for the new Los Lobos, handling their money, their deals. And Knox & Rain’s books—offshore accounts, shell companies like Obsidian Ventures—are funneling cash for them. It’s big, Travis. Bigger than we planned. Max and I think we should come on board, full commitment. This isn’t a one-man job anymore.”
I swirl my whisky, my jaw tight.
“Mr. G didn’t sanction that,” I say. “He gave me a week to handle Miles, keep him close, get answers. Bringing you two in fully? That’s a risk.”
Max, broad and rougher around the edges, chuckles, his glass half-empty already.
“What Mr. G doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Max grins. “He wants results, not details. We’ve got your back, man. This cartel shit, plus Miles’ death threat—it’s too much for you to juggle alone.”
I hesitate, my eyes drifting to the guest room.
Miles is a wildcard, a threat to the Guard, but also a target in his own right.
Cole and Max are right—this is bigger than I expected, and I can’t cover all angles solo.
“Alright,” I say finally, my voice firm. “You’re in. But we keep it tight. No leaks, no slip-ups. Mr. G finds out we’re going off script, he’ll have our heads.”
Cole nods, a rare grin breaking through. “Done. We’ll dig deeper into Knox & Rain, track Rodrygo’s moves. You focus on Miles, figure out what he knows.”
The mention of his name shifts the air, and I take a long sip, the whisky burning down my throat.
“Speaking of Miles,” I say, my voice quieter, “I’m picking up some real feelings for him. It’s… complicating things.”
