“Agent Williams.” His tone shifts, drawing her attention. She sits up straighter, her eyes finally lifting to meet his. “You’ll beembedded as the assistant to the target’s primary contact. Your role is to observe, gather intel, and ensure the target’s plans don’t go beyond negotiation.”
“And if they do?” she asks, her voice steady but low.
“You’ll signal Grant,” Harris says, nodding toward me. “And he’ll handle the rest.”
She glances at me then, her expression neutral. But there’s something in her eyes: uncertainty, excitement, or maybe both.
“Understood,” she says firmly.
Harris nods, satisfied. “You leave in forty-eight hours. Agent Grant, a word?”
Williams stands, tucking the file under her arm as she walks toward the door. She doesn’t look back, but the tension lingers in the room long after she’s gone.
“She’s good, Grant,” Harris says once we’re alone. “You don’t have to like her, but don’t doubt her. She might surprise you.”
“She’s reckless,” I say flatly. “And we’ve all seen what happens when people of that bloodline are too reckless.”
Harris sighs, his gaze softening for just a moment. “She’s not Leo.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Later that evening, I find her in the training room, running through drills with a ferocity that’s hard to ignore. She doesn’t see me at first, too busy punching the bag in front of her.
Her movements are methodical, but she’s clearly trying to shake off some frustration. It radiates from her in waves, nagging at something I don’t want to acknowledge.
“Getting it out of your system?” I say, my voice cutting through the silence.
She spins, startled for half a second before masking it. “Do you want something, Agent Grant?”
“To make sure you’re not walking into this blind.” I step closer, watching as she straightens, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Harris might think you’re ready, but I’m not convinced.”
Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to snap back. But instead, she lifts her chin, her voice calm. “Then maybe you should watch more closely.”
I have been, and that’s the problem.
I take another step forward, closing the distance between us. “Don’t mistake confidence for capability, Williams. This isn’t a game.”
“I know it’s not,” she says, her tone sharp. “But I also know I’ve worked my ass off to get here. I’m tired of you, of everyone, saying—thinking, otherwise. I’m not going to let whatever this personal vendetta you have get in the way. Youdon’tknow me.”
Her defiance is a challenge I shouldn’t rise to, but as it normally does, it pulls at the frayed edges of my control.
“Maybe I don’t know you,” I say, “but I know enough.”And I knew your father, and you’re just like him.
Which makes you a liability.
She doesn’t back down, her eyes locking onto mine. The air between us is heavy and charged as the memory of the almost kiss in the gym flashes unbidden in my mind. Her chest falls and rises as my thoughts go to a place much darker. Images of her sprawled out on this floor and taking me deep as she screams my name.
I force myself to take a step back, to regain the control that seems hell-bent on unraveling whenever she’s in radius. “Forty-eight hours, Williams. Don’t make me regret taking this assignment.”
Her lips twitch, almost like a smile, but there’s nothing light in her gaze. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I leave before she can say anything else, her presence still clinging to me long after the door closes behind me.
Chapter Eighteen
Holden
The first thing I notice when I enter the club is that it stinks. Sweat and too many bodies pressed in too little space will do that. It’s the kind of place where people come to disappear, where shadows do most of the talking, and danger lives in plain sight.