We fell back into our dance, both of us savoring the feel of each other. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that—probably longer than we should have. For a little while, we pretended the rest of the room didn’t exist. The music, the low murmur of voices, the tension hanging over the night—it all faded away inside the small bubble we’d created for ourselves.
It wasn’t until August appeared beside us that the moment finally broke.
“It’s time,” he said simply.
Roman and I stepped apart, though he didn’t let go of my hand.
When we were off the dance floor, August fixed me with a steady stare. “You ready for this?”
The second we walked out of this building, everything would be set into motion. There had been a slight change to the plan in the last few days. Instead of Roman staying at the bed-and-breakfast, they decided it would be more convincing to make it seem as though he had left me alone. Once we returned to the Ramsey home, Roman would leave for the fire station, creating the illusion that he had been called in for an emergency.
We would be separated after this, and the thought sent a fresh wave of uncertainty through me. But I pushed it down and nodded. “I’m ready.”
August grinned before glancing at Roman. “See you later, brother.”
Roman’s shoulders tensed. “Stay safe.”
August rolled his eyes. “That’s my job.”
As Roman and I made our way toward the exit, we stopped to check in with the rest of the Ramsey brothers. They would stay at the fundraiser, visible in the crowd, while Roman and I returned alone to the bed-and-breakfast.
At least, that’s how it would appear.
Roman grabbed my coat from the coat check when we reached the entryway of the community center. He held it open for me, but frowned as his thumb brushed over a freshly stitched seam on the inside of the silk lining.
“What happened?” He inspected the crude seam that had not been there before.
The coat was brand new. Roman had given it to me himself, and I knew it had to have been expensive. I shrugged awkwardly, guilt twisting in my stomach.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I noticed a small tear earlier this week. I know my hand stitching isn’t the best, but I tried. The bandages didn’t make it easier.”
Roman studied the seam for another moment, his brow furrowed. Then he shook his head and helped me slip the coat on.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “We should get this show on the road.”
40
Palmer
Thebed-and-breakfastsatdarkand quiet as Roman and I arrived. Snow lingered across the yard in uneven patches, though much of it had melted over the past few days, leaving behind damp grass and icy edges along the walkways. The air was cold enough that my breath puffed in front of me when we stepped out of the truck.
We lingered on the porch a moment. Anyone watching the house needed to believe that Roman and I had simply come home alone after the fundraiser. Inside, the security team waited. They’d arrived earlier in the night through the cover of darkness through the back. It would’ve been difficult for someone to have seen them, even if they had been paying attention.
Roman unlocked the door and pulled me inside behind him. The warmth of the house wrapped around us, shutting out the cold night air. He closed the door and armed the security system.
For a moment, we stood there in the darkness, not speaking. We simply stared at each other, both of us knowing that things were about to change.
The plan had been carefully laid out, but there were still so many unknowns. We didn’t actually know whether the Shadow Stalker would take the bait. Graham seemed confident he would, but confidence and certainty weren’t the same thing.
Finally, Roman took my hand and led me deeper into the house. He reached for the living room switch, flooding the room with yellow light. I squinted against the brightness, but the room was empty.
Everything seemed normal—exactly the way we’d left it earlier: the couches, the coffee table, the throw blankets draped neatly over the armrests. It felt strangely peaceful considering what was about to unfold.
Roman guided me toward the kitchen. He didn’t turn on the lights there.
The glow from the living room spilled across the floor and into the kitchen just enough to reveal the figures sitting around the table.
Several men sat at the kitchen there, dressed in tactical gear, their silhouettes dark and solid in the dim light. I had met thembriefly before leaving for the fundraiser, but seeing them now—sitting silently in the shadows—made my heart race.
