Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“In a damn swinger’s club,” Dean snaps. “You told me you wanted protection, but then you ignore me and dive into that scene with Lincoln?”
I feel Isabel stiffen beside me, and a surge of protectiveness swells in my gut. I step forward, placing myself partially between them. “Stop,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “This isn’t the time or place to do this. Let’s sit down and talk it out.”
Dean’s glare flicks to me. “Fine,” he says, though the word is practically spit through gritted teeth. He crosses his arms, turning away from us to pace the living room, clearly trying to get his temper under control. Isabel, looking shaken but resolved, moves closer to me, and I catch a glimpse of how tense her shoulders are.
I nod toward the couch, silently urging both of them to sit. Dean and Isabel exchange a glance before reluctantly following my lead, and I grab my T-shirt from the armrest of a nearby chair, tugging it on to at least look somewhat decent. My skin still prickles with adrenaline.
Once we’re settled—Dean on the couch, arms crossed, Isabel perched on the other end with a blanket wrapped around her, me standing—an uneasy hush settles. The coffee machine in the kitchen gurgles, an almost laughable background noise given the storm brewing here.
“Dean,” I start quietly, trying to keep my tone measured, “we’ve been trying to get close to Morris Rolfe. We think he’s linked to the threats Isabel’s been receiving. We heard rumors he frequents Club Greed or has associates there, so we went undercover to see if we could glean information.”
Dean’s jaw works. “And you didn’t trust me enough to tell me?”
I hesitate, aware that telling him “we didn’t want to worry you” isn’t going to cut it. But it’s the truth. “We knew you’d be upset,” I admit, “and we didn’t want you to blow up the operation before we got anything solid. Devereaux might be your contact, but if he suspects we’re not legit, we’ll never get near Rolfe.”
Isabel shifts, pulling the blanket closer around her legs. “Dean, it’s not like we planned for it to get this deep,” she says softly. “One lead led to another. We met Vera and Trey—people who claim to be close to Morris. We haven’t gotten a face-to-face yet, but we’re trying.”
Dean’s shoulders slump a fraction, some of the anger melting into concern. “Damn it, Iz. You’re my sister. I’d do anything to keep you safe. Why can’t you let me handle this? You’re risking everything going undercover in a place like that.”
She lifts her chin. “Because I want to handle it. I’m not a child, Dean. I need to figure out who’s threatening me and why. I can’t stand by while everyone else does the work.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, exhaling harshly. “I get that, but you had no right to cut me out completely. And Lincoln—” his glare swivels back to me, “—you know better.”
The accusation stings, but I stand my ground. “She insisted,” I say, surprising myself with the bluntness. “I knew she’d go in alone if I refused. So I agreed to help. To make sure she stayed safe. I never intended to keep it secret forever, but we needed to keep it contained.”
Dean releases a heavy breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. For a moment, he looks less like the formidable head of Maddox Security and more like a worried older brother. “Devereaux told me about your, uh, performance. Mentioned that you two looked pretty comfortable playing the part of a married couple.”
My stomach twists. If Devereaux told him that, we’re in deeper trouble than I realized. Isabel’s cheeks flame at the mention, and she ducks her head, avoiding Dean’s gaze.
To my relief, Dean doesn’t press that angle—maybe because the idea of his sister posing as my wife in a swinger’s club is too much to contemplate. Instead, he fixes me with a hard look. “You’re sure you can handle this? You said you found people close to Rolfe, but have you gotten anything of substance?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. But we’re close. Maybe if you step in now, you can get Devereaux to play along.”
Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, struggling with the decision. Silence hangs heavy, broken only by the drip of coffee in the kitchen. Finally, he lifts his head. “All right,” he says, voice strained. “I’ll call him. You know, it’s funny but his sister and best friend did something similar to this.”
“Really?” Isabel asks.
“Yeah, Greer Huxley pretended to date his best friend for publicity.”
“How’d that work out?” I ask.
“They’re married with a kid on the way.” Dean shifts. “Listen, I don’t like this one bit, but I promise not to interfere. Be safe, and smart. No more secrets.”
Isabel visibly relaxes, relief softening her posture. “We will,” she promises.