Page 57 of The Sentinel

Something twisted in my chest at the thought. Not jealousy, not exactly, but something close.

The walls were lined with monitors, feeds from different angles of the hotel looping in real time. Isabel gestured toward a chair near the desk. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

I sank into it, my throat thick. “I know.”

She sighed, crossing her arms again. “Ryker’s not going to like it.”

Marcus let out a low, unimpressed sound. “Ryker already agreed we’d do whatever it takes.”

Isabel’s gaze flicked to him, then back to me, still reluctant but no longer arguing. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“The last time Diego was seen,” I said. “Anything unusual. Anyone following him.”

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “If this gets traced back to me?—”

“It won’t,” Marcus said, his tone final.

I swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

For a moment, I thought she’d refuse.

But then she exhaled sharply and started typing. “We’re not so different, you know.”

I glanced at her. “How do you figure?”

She gave me a knowing look. “You’re involved with a Dane brother.”

I opened my mouth, but the denial stuck in my throat.

Isabel arched a brow, unimpressed. “You can try to lie to me, but I know what it looks like.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Marcus, then back to me. “I know what it feels like.”

“That’s different,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure it was. “You and Ryker are engaged.”

She let out a soft, almost pitying laugh. “You think a ring makes the difference? Honey, those men don’t date. They claim.And you?” She shook her head. “You’re already his.”

Marcus shifted behind me. I could feel the weight of his stare, the silent intensity that never seemed to waver.

I wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. That I wasn’t his, that whatever was between us was temporary, circumstantial, something that would burn out just as fast as it started.

But then the footage started playing, and the air in the room turned razor-sharp.

Diego.

He moved across the screen, the timestamp marking it before dawn. His posture was tense, his head swiveling slightly as if he were looking for someone.

Or watching for someone.

My stomach twisted as the footage played. He walked through the lobby, toward the elevators. He pressed the button. Waited.

And then?—

I leaned forward.

A man in a dark jacket stepped into the frame. He wasn’t close enough to touch Diego, but he wasn’t far either.

His face was obscured by the angle.

But Diego had noticed him.

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