Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Understood,” I say, softening my stare. Melanie means well, I’m sure she always has. I hand her a contact card with a QR code for a one-time secure chat link. “This will ping me directly.”
Charlotte’s grandmother rounds the corner just then. Nana Peg. Her cane clacks on the marble flooring. She stops in front of me, shoulders stiff but eyes less glacial than usual. “Mr. Hawke.”
“Ma’am.” I incline my head.
“I misjudged you,” she says without preamble. “I saw a bodyguard. I missed the man willing to walk through gunfire for my granddaughter. For that, I apologize.”
Her contrition is so unvarnished it momentarily short-circuits my tactical checklist. I offer a small, genuine smile. “Keeping her safe isn’t a duty anymore. It’s personal.”
A faint shimmer brightens the old matriarch’s gaze. She pats my arm once— approval sealed—then returns to her suite.
Time to move. At the entrance of the resort, the valet offers to bring my truck. Negative. Charlotte and I walk together, making sure nobody is watching as we reach my truck in the lot. I double check to make sure everything’s secure before Charlotte climbs into the passenger seat. I stow the bags, and check once more to make sure nobody is watching. As I shut the liftgate, my phone buzzes. It’s Dean.
“Heading out now,” I answer, sliding behind the wheel.
“I’ve got your coordinates locked,” he replies. “I’ll stagger drone sweeps along your route—standard leapfrog grid. No eyes on Wade yet.”
“We’ll go radio-silent after mile marker ninety-two. Push any real-time hits to the satellite pager.”
“Copy that. Watch your six, Hawke.”
I kill the call, engage drive. Charlotte’s hand finds mine on the console—small, steady, pulsing warmth through layers of calculation.
We roll past manicured hedges and security kiosks, leaving the resort’s sanitized safety net behind. Every mile we cover feels lighter, yet I remain on edge, checking mirrors, calibrating escape angles.
Charlotte breaks the silence first. “Do you think Wade will ever stop?”
“Not until someone stops him,” I answer honestly. “I intend to be that someone.”
She nods, trust unquestioned. The truck hums down the coastal highway, sea fog curling over the asphalt. I send periodic pings to the Lane parents and Nana Peg—status green, no tails, ETA on schedule.
Forty-five minutes later the landscape shifts from beach condos to pine-studded backroads. I turn onto a gravel lane shielded by live oaks. At the end, a modern cabin of reinforced timber and steel rests against a marshy inlet—solar, generator backup, bullet-resistant glass. I keyed the alarm codes this morning via secure app; no one else in the world has them. Not even Dean. It’s the way Maddox Security works with the safe houses.
Inside, Charlotte walks the open floor plan. The kitchen’s stocked, first-aid supplies front-and-center, panoramic windows offering views but not vantage to outsiders.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes.
“It’s fortress-level boring,” I correct, locking the door behind us. “Which is exactly what we need.”
She turns, wraps her arms around my waist. “As long as you’re here, I’m safe.”
Her faith settles the storm cell in my chest. I kiss her hair, then her forehead. Wade may still be out there calculating moves, but he’ll find no openings.
I’ll keep everyone updated, monitor every channel, and close the net tighter each day. But for the first time since this op began, I let myself breathe—just a little—and hold Charlotte in a space that feels like the beginning of peace.
31
Charlotte
The cabin is beautiful. It’s rustic yet modern, sturdy timber beams intersecting sleek, reinforced windows that overlook the marshy inlet. Twilight paints the sky lavender and pink, the fading sun turning the water into liquid gold. I glance at Asher, who has been diligently pacing the perimeter for the last twenty minutes, double-checking every window latch, door bolt, and hidden alarm sensor.
I can’t help but laugh softly. He spins around immediately, alert and concerned.
“What?” he asks, his brows drawn together in that serious, focused look he’s perfected. "You see something?"
“No.” I smile warmly, shaking my head. “You’re just so…intense.”
He lets out a slow exhale, relaxing his shoulders slightly. “Well, one of us has to be.”
“I appreciate it. Really,” I say, moving to him and placing my palm against his chest. His heart thuds steadily beneath my hand, a comforting rhythm. “But even you can take a break now and then.”
His gaze softens, those gray eyes warming just for me. “I’ll relax when Wade’s locked up and the threats are neutralized.”
I reach up and press a gentle kiss to his jaw. “You can be the hero tomorrow. Tonight, let me take care of you.”
He tilts his head, a small smile curving his lips. “And what exactly did you have in mind, Miss Lane?”
“Dinner,” I reply, stepping back and heading toward the kitchen. “And before you protest, it’s non-negotiable.”
“I wouldn’t dream of protesting,” he says dryly, though amusement dances in his eyes. He follows me into the spacious kitchen, taking a seat on one of the high-backed stools lining the granite island.