He didn’t move away. Neither did she.
For half a second, the space between them vibrated with electricity, entirely wrong for the moment and entirely right every way else.
Rhys withdrew first, the professional returning. Polite. Distant. And yet, not unaffected. His jaw ticked—barely—but she saw it.
Gaby tried to ignore the pinch in her chest.
Dev nodded at the file she held. “Viktor Leonovich has overlapping parameters—offshore holdings and domestic intermediaries.”
“I can start pulling background,” she said, keeping her voice steady.
“It’s done,” Dev replied. “You’re going undercover with Rhys on this one.”
She couldn’t do anything about the heat creeping up her neck, but she kept her expression neutral while glancing at the others. Everyone knew there was friction between them, but no one had reacted. Maybe it was just her.
Rhys acknowledged the plan with a chin lift, as if this had been decided hours ago.
Callan shut down and stood with his laptop. “For what it’s worth, Gaby, your instincts on Pierce were solid. He fit the psychological profile.”
She managed a small nod. “I just…” Her voice thinned, unable to hide her disappointment. “I thought for sure he was our guy.”
“We’ll find her,” Rhys said firmly. “But we don’t chase ghosts.”
Every hour lost felt like one Natalie couldn’t afford. If it were up to her, she’d chase everything.
Dev and Callan stepped out. Rhys stayed behind, gathering files.
She tried to stack her own, but her hands didn’t cooperate.Breathe, Gaby. Keep it together.
Her little pep talk failed. A file slipped through her trembling fingers. Rhys caught it before it hit the table. Their eyes met, a current pulsing between them.
“You’re doing well,” he said, quietly reassuring. “Better than you think.”
She blinked, surprised by the praise. “I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels.”
“That happens.” His tone softened. “You regroup and keep moving.”
“Pierce was my first real hope in weeks.”
“It won’t be your last.”
The way he said it—steady and assured—wrapped around her like warm hands under the mist of the waterfall. And damn her heart for remembering.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for keeping us focused.”
He gave the barest nod. But when he turned toward the door, she noticed it—the rigid line of his shoulders, the barelythere tension in his jaw. He was holding the line by sheer force of will.
“Rhys?”
He paused and looked back.
There were a thousand things she wanted to say. A thousand things she shouldn’t. She chose the safest. “I’m glad you’re on this case. That’s all.”
“Count on me staying on it until she’s home.”
Then he walked out, leaving her in the glass-walled war room, heart thundering between fear for her sister and something far more complicated. Something that refused to disappear, no matter how hard she tried to bury it.
Chapter 4
