“The entire security team missed it. Probably because there wasn’t anything amiss. The only thing the cameras over there ever pick up is a dirt road surrounded by trees. Nobody goes out there, there’s no reason to scrutinize it. And since the feeds never blackout for more than a few minutes, there’s never been a reason to question the dead spaces. It just looks like a minor, temporary malfunction.”
“But presumably, these outages are scheduled to cover up some shady shit,” I say.
“Right.”
This is bad. Very bad.
“Fuck,” I groan again. “We have a mole on the inside. And it’s not my wife.”
“It’s notonlyyour wife,” Dante corrects.
“It has to be someone on our security team. They’re the only ones who could coordinate this. A drop-off, a pickup, a blip on the cameras, all of it perfectly choreographed to escape notice. Even if an outsider is involved, they’d still need someone on the inside to brush those little blackouts under the rug. So it’s somebody directly—and regularly—involved with our surveillance tech. I need to call Clayton.”
“Clayton is already working on it,” Dante says. “He’s got a few possibilities, nothing solid though.”
Thank God for my Irish add-on. If anyone can flush out a mole, it’s him.
“I suggested taking the mailbox out,” he adds, “but Clayton wants to keep things as-is so he can have eyes on it. Maybe catch the perp in action.”
“Yeah, I agree with that. We could get lucky. Jesus, fuck. When’s this shit going to end?”
Dante laughs humorlessly. “With the Bratva on our heels? Never.”
“I guess this at least clears my wife’s name, then, doesn’t it?”
“Not in my mind,” Dante says. “She’s still a mole, and she’s still leaked intel about us to the Brunos, regardless of her level of involvement in our current security issue.”
“Still. Maybe she’s not as bad as we thought,” I insist. “Maybe we judged too soon what she was responsible for.
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just making excuses for her.”
This is the problem with having brothers. They always call you out.
“Regardless, we have bigger fish to fry at the moment,” I tell him. “We need to find this other mole. I personally vetted everyone on the security team, every last soldier. It has to be someone new.”
“Negative. We’ve employed the same guys for years. There are no obvious weak links.”
“Then it’s someone with the capability to trump up false credentials so good that even I didn’t see through them, which is an even scarier prospect,” I admit. “Someone had to bankroll that kind of thing. Falsifying documentation ain’t cheap.”
We talk it through and toss a few ideas around, but by the time we get off the call, I’m no closer to narrowing down a suspect. Our long-term employees are devoted and loyal. None of them strike me as a double-crosser. Then again, I hadn’t pegged Candi as a spy initially, either. Maybe I’m losing my touch.
Running a hand through my hair, I walk out to the guest room’s balcony and look out at the greenery surrounding the villa. It’s beautiful, but it does nothing to ease my nerves.
I’ll never give up on my family’s safety. Never. It’s my job to protect them.
But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to delegate more of the tasks I’m constantly juggling. Give myself a little more breathing room, a little less stress. God, what would it be like to take a break from the intense state of alert I’m constantly in? I can’t imagine. All I know is, the human body isn’t meant to run on pure adrenaline all the time. Yet for my entire adult life, it’s been my daily fuel.
Until my wife.
Something about her gives me a rush, a spark. The kind of energy that’s not based on fight-or-flight, but experiencing more of what life has to offer. Sex, beauty, pleasure, heightened emotions. I’m not saying I was numb to the world before, but Candi gives me a kind of energy I’ve never known.
Realizing it’s nearly lunchtime, I go searching for my wife and find her asleep in our bedroom. The sunlight pouring through the windows casts her body in a golden glow. Her auburn hair is spread out over the pillow, strands of coppery red glinting in the light. I’d give anything to hike up her dress and wake her with my dick inside her, but I know she’d be pissed at me for breaking her little “no touching” rule. The one she was more than happy to break herself in the pool, but still. I’m more than happy to let her fuck me on her terms.
And that’s when it hits me.
As much as the constant conflict with Candi amuses me, as much as I love riling her up, as hot as it makes me when I see that combination of rage and lust flashing in her eyes…
I think I’m softening toward my wife.
