“Flanaghan called. He’s still asking you to go tomorrow.” He hands me the phone; I stuff it in my pocket.
“The fundraiser for the library?” Autumn asks, rummaging in her bag. Her fingers find the car key, and she exhales a triumphant little sound. She bites her bottom lip when she sees it. The small, sincere amusement in her voice is different from the city’s usual cynicism.
“I offered to take some photos for the school website.” She drops her bag and pats her jacket into place. “Are you going?”
“Yes.” The word slips out quicker than I expect. My chest clenches.
Kaden whistles and heads for the door. I will never hear the end of it. That’s for sure.
“I’ll see you there tomorrow then.” She walks beside me to the door. The air outside is cold; rain begins to thread down in quiet sheets. She breathes in, eyes closed, and I cannot stop looking. Her head barely reachesmy chest; the freckles at her collarbone are pale and perfect. A tiny mark lives under her jaw.
I could break her in two. I could ruin her. The thought tastes dangerous and sweet, but she doesn’t belong to this world, and I am not dragging someone innocent into it.
“The rain is so peaceful, isn’t it?” she says, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. Her voice is like warm sugar.
“Yes, it is.” I nod and point to her car. She blushes again.
“Thanks.” She turns and walks away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Autumn.” My voice drops low; there is a threat in it without trying. She turns and waves, smiling, smoothing her jacket twice as her fingers fumble on the car key before she gets a firm grip. A strand of hair slips loose, and she tucks it behind her ear, shoulders lifting against the rain.
“She has no idea what she’s doing, does she?” Kaden whispers behind me. I smirk, feeling the animal inside me lean forward.
“No, she doesn’t.” That ignorance is intoxicating. I promised I won’t touch her, but that does not mean I can’t have some fun. John wanted me there anyway, and now I have the perfect excuse to go.
The ride home is quiet, just the low hum of the engine and Declan’s voice on the phone about the Irish Consortium gala. Only members and their families are invited. Miss it, and it’ll be your last gala ever.
“Any plus one for you?” I ask as Kaden navigates through the choked city streets.
“No.” His tone is clipped, jaw locked. His eyes keep flicking to the rearview.
“What?” I follow his gaze. An Audi with tinted windows hugs our bumper too tight, too long. My shoulders tense. My hand slides to the knife at my hip, thumb pressing against the hilt. “Problem?”
“Not sure yet.” His voice is a low rumble. He doesn’t speed up, doesn’t slow, just holds steady. Testing them.
The Audi sticks. My pulse thickens, steady and mean. The air inside the SUV turns heavy. I can almost feel the other driver breathing down our necks.
Kaden suddenly taps the brakes, the SUV jerking forward. The Audi hesitates, closing the gap. Wrong move.
At the next intersection, Kaden slams the accelerator and yanks the wheel left. Tyres scream on wet asphalt. The Audi jolts, skidding. For a split second its grille fills the rear window. Then its brakes lock hard. Rubber burns the air. It doesn’t follow.
We barrel down the side street, both of us watching the mirrors, waiting for headlights to reappear. Nothing. Just the dark, rain-slick streets swallowing everything behind us.
Kaden exhales, but his knuckles stay white on the wheel.
“Should we call the Callaghans?” he asks.
“Nothing happened,” I say, voice flat. “Just put more eyes on the blocks around the penthouse.” My jaw grinds tight. Whoever that was, they knew enough to pull back. They’ll be smarter next time.
When the elevator dings and the doors open, the tension hasn’t left my shoulders. Kaden goes straight to the bar, pours whisky with hands still too tight. He plants himself on the couch, pulls up the building’s feeds on the big screen.
“Easy, Kaden. We’re fine. No alarms, nothing.” I drop onto the opposite couch, rolling my neck. Muscles still coiled, heart still pacing like I never left the street.
“You hired me so no one surprises us. This is how I make sure.” His eyes don’t leave the screens, voice hard.
He’s right. He’s been with me since high school, after he joined the army, but we never lost contact. Once the army sent him off, I reached out. I knew he needed work. Since then we’ve become inseparable. He has become like a brother.
“Are you really going to the charity event?” he finally asks, leaning back, whisky glowing amber in his hand.
