Page 18 of Taking What's Mine

Back in the hallway, I feel Lincoln’s hand on my arm, steadying me. I’m not sure if it’s from the adrenaline or the lingering effect of dancing with him earlier, but my knees feel wobbly.

He leans in. “You all right?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah, just… it’s a lot.”

His fingers tighten reassuringly. “It was smart not to mention your real last name. Dean would have heard about what we’re doing here in an instant and forced us back to the safe house.” He steps closer. “I’m all for this plan, Isabel, but I also want you to know that we need to be safe.”

I nod. “Right, of course.”

We descend the marble staircase, returning to the pulsing chaos of the club. This time, the music feels louder, the lights more disorienting. My dress clings to my body, and my skin still tingles where Lincoln’s hands touched me on the dance floor.

We find our way back to the bar, half out of necessity—the crowd below is too dense to talk strategy without shouting. By the time we reach the mirrored counter, my heart has finally stopped racing like a runaway train. The same platinum-haired bartender meets our gaze, and I wave her off politely. I’ve had enough sugar and alcohol for one night.

Lincoln checks his phone, though it’s doubtful we’ll get any reception in here. “We should call it a night,” he says quietly, leaning close so only I can hear. “Devereaux’s making contact with Rolfe. We wait for word.”

I glance around, part of me not wanting to leave just yet. The club’s heady atmosphere has wound me up, and a raw, frustrated energy still buzzes through my veins. But I know he’s right. We’ve done everything we can for now.

“Okay,” I say, turning to face him. “Let’s go.”

He rests a hand at my waist, guiding me through the throng of dancing bodies. I feel oddly grateful for his solid presence—without it, I might be swept away by the crush of people. As we near the entrance, I catch one last glimpse of the roped-off area, the shadowy booths behind the curtains. My imagination swirls with questions:Could Rolfe be in there right now, watching us? Or is he still on his way?

We push open the heavy doors, stepping into the cool night air. The sudden contrast makes me shiver, and Lincoln, ever the gentleman, drapes his jacket over my shoulders. My heart does a little flip at the gesture.

“You did good in there,” he says quietly as we walk to the SUV which is waiting for us as the valet stands by the driver’s door. “Quick on your feet.”

I smirk, grateful for the praise. “You too, Lincoln.”

He slips the valet some cash, and we climb into the SUV. The engine purrs to life. As he pulls away from Club Greed, I find myself casting one last glance at the ominous building. A part of me wants to dive right back inside, to feel the pulsing music under my skin and the press of Lincoln’s body against mine on the dance floor. But that’s not who I am—at least, not usually.

I breathe in, letting the tension slowly leave my body. The mission isn’t finished, not by a long shot. We’re just getting started, and we’ve set something in motion that might lead usstraight to Morris Rolfe. Yet I can’t shake the lingering desire between me and Lincoln. Every time his eyes flick over to me while he navigates the dark streets, my nerves buzz like a live wire.

“So…” he says, voice a low murmur. “You still okay?”

I rest my head against the seat, meeting his gaze in the dim glow of passing streetlights. “Yeah,” I answer, a small smile playing on my lips. “More than okay. That was… unexpected.”

He nods, his attention flicking back to the road. “We’ll probably hear from Devereaux soon, if Rolfe’s interested.”

“Right,” I say, suddenly aware of how my hands keep clenching in my lap, craving some sort of outlet for all the adrenaline still coursing through me.

Silence falls, thick with unspoken thoughts. We’ve just waded into a world of secret parties, clandestine deals, and raw desire. I can’t deny the thrill, the rush of walking that edge. But there’s another edge I’m dancing on too—the one between me and Lincoln.

I close my eyes, the memory of his hand on my thigh, his breath against my ear, flickering behind my eyelids. The line between pretense and reality is blurring, and I’m not sure how much longer we can pretend it’s all for the mission.

Yet for tonight, at least, I’ll let the hum of the engine and the soft hush of the tires on the road lull me into a momentary calm. Tomorrow, we’ll face whatever comes next—together.

Chapter 9

Lincoln

I rub the back of my neck as I step through the front door of the safe house, the echo of the club’s pulsing bass still thudding in my veins. The darkness outside seems infinite, only broken by the dim porch light we left on. The chill of the night air has already seeped into my jacket. It’s not freezing, but the temperature shift is enough to remind me we’re no longer in the thick, sultry heat of Club Greed. We’re back to reality—whatever that means for Isabel and me.

I move aside so she can slip in before me. The moment she crosses the threshold, her heels click on the hardwood, and I catch a subtle whiff of her perfume, something warm and floral that I’m pretty sure is going to haunt me for days. I flick on the foyer light, revealing the cozy interior. Everything is exactly the way we left it: living room neat, kitchen clean, laptops piled on the table. Like we never even left. Yet I feel like an entirely different man than the one who walked out the door earlier.

Isabel closes the door, latches it, then turns to me with a small, exhausted smile. I see the flush of the night’s excitement still lingering in her cheeks. Under the overhead bulb, her black dress shimmers faintly, showcasing every graceful curve. My gaze can’t help sliding over her, taking in the bare skin at her shoulders and the hint of leg visible through the dress’s slit. A wave of need tightens my chest.

I clear my throat, shrugging out of my jacket. “You want something to drink? Water, maybe?”

She exhales softly, setting her clutch on the side table. “Yeah. That’d be nice. My throat’s scratchy from trying to talk over all the noise.”

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