She’d arrived at the house where Evelyn was staying until Driftwood Manor was repaired and safe again. Braden had trailed her at a safe distance, watching as she turned into the drive. He’d driven past it long enough to avoid suspicion, then doubled back to navigate the forest road leading to the house.
He’d turned off a small side alcove and parked. The engine off, he lowered his window to listen and wait, his nerves humming too loud for him to hear anything else. He couldn’t get into the house unless Evelyn let him through the gate, and he’d have to ask directly and nicely. Sneaking in wasn’t an option. Evelyn was adept at shooting those she felt were a threat—that much they had learned already. Regardless, sneaking in uninvited would defeat his purpose of trying to get back into Cressida’s good graces.
Like that was going to happen.
Letting out a pained sigh, he rubbed his hand over his face, his palm rasping against his stubble. That’s right. He hadn’t even bothered to shave. Things were ramping up into what was beginning to look like a worst-case scenario. Why was he always in the worst position when it mattered most?
Like being out of the country and unreachable when Lauren’s husband died. Or like his colossal failure in Operation Horizon Shield, where he’d led a team of DSS agents working alongside Octavia Dane, providing security during a high-risk mission involving US diplomats and foreign officials and the transfer of sensitive materials through maritime channels.
Octavia had suspected something was wrong—as in, there had been a mole on his team who leaked information. But she hadn’t said a word to Braden. The operation had blown up in his face. The US was accused of espionage—secretly, of course, behind the scenes. None of it made the news headlines because Octavia had that much under control. But he was blamed for the security lapse, and so he resigned.
Octavia fought to maintain her reputation. He hadn’t blamed her for not doing more to protect his job, basically throwing him under the proverbial bus when she’d been the one to ignore his security protocols. He kept his mouth shut where she was concerned because that would take him nowhere good.
Plus, with his career in the rearview mirror, he’d been able to spend more time with Lauren and Elise in what perhaps were his niece’s last days.
But that hadn’t been the end to his relationship with Octavia Dane.
If it hadn’t been for her, Elise would have no hope.
Octavia had spent years curating powerful connectionsacross many sectors—and she knew exactly how to leverage them. Whether through blackmail or an old favor—Braden didn’t know—she’d used her influence with the CEO of a biotech firm to make available the experimental treatment his niece needed. The man’s company had been held up waiting on specialized lab equipment trapped in customs at a foreign port—until Octavia stepped in. As Deputy Assistant Secretary for Maritime Affairs, she was able to make the bottleneck disappear. But Braden suspected there was more. Rumors swirled about a scandal the CEO had buried overseas, something Octavia had quietly unearthed—as was her way—to use as leverage at just the right time.
Frankly, Braden didn’t care how Octavia had accomplished getting the drug. Not when it came to saving Elise’s life.
After he resigned, Octavia contacted him about the experimental medicine, and he’d thought it was her olive branch. A way to apologize for what he’d gone through, and maybe to thank him for not pointing the finger at her, but no. Octavia gave nothing for free.
He thought back to his conversation with her last night when she’d finally returned his call at 2:00 a.m.
“Your man—Derek Harlan.”
Her voice was sharp and edgy. “What about him?”
“He broke into Evelyn’s home to search for something.” His jaw clenched at the memory. “Then someone started a fire to destroy her library—probably to hide evidence or information. I suspect it was Harlan.”
“What?” Octavia sounded genuinely shocked.
Braden was in no mood to let her off the hook. “You heard me.”
“Are you sure he set the fire?”
Not entirely, but it fit. “Pretty sure, yes. Was he working on your orders?”
Despite his fear for Elise’s treatment, he infused his tone with all the wrath that coursed through his veins.
Octavia hesitated, her silence scraping at his frayed nerves. He repeated the question, his voice taut with barely restrained fury. “Was he working on your orders? Is he here to get something from Evelyn Monroe or her house?”
“No. I don’t know what’s going on, Braden.”
He almost believed her. Almost.
“Cressida and I were in the house.” He forced his tone to stay even. “Monroe had given us access to look for answers.”
“And where is Cressida now?” Octavia’s voice shook.
He’d never seen or heard her composure crack, and his instincts prickled.
“Safe.” As far as I know.
“Safe, as in, you’re with her?”
