Page 28 of Silence and Surrender

Rodger was watching. The bank was watching. One wrong move, one moment of weakness, and everything we’d uncovered would be buried along with us.

Like my father.

I turned back to my office, forcing myself to focus on the names and dates of missing persons’ reports rather than the heated memory of Colton’s touch. Girls were disappearing while I sat here dreaming of impossible things. Of breaking down barriers that had taken years to erect. Of making a man like Colton Moreau feel something real again.

My phone buzzed once more. Another message, less professional this time: “You’re working too late. Get some rest.”

Years of emotionless encounters, of perfectly maintained distance, of carefully orchestrated control. Years of never letting anyone close after whatever had happened with this Catherine woman.

But he worried about my sleep.

I shut down my computer, gathering the files I’d need for later. His jacket was warm as I slipped it on, allowing myself this one small indulgence. The bank’s halls felt colder at night, every shadow holding potential threats. But for the first time since starting this investigation, the darkness didn’t feel quite so empty.

Because somewhere in Italy, the most controlled man I’d ever met was thinking about me. Not about release or arrangements or emotional distance.

Just me.

Chapter Thirteen

Colton

“You’re distracted.” Stryker’s American accent cut through my thoughts as his fist nearly connected with my jaw. “That would’ve hurt.”

I blocked his next strike, the defensive movement smoother than it would have been six months ago. Back when three drunken idiots had cornered me outside The Wolseley, and I’d realized that all my expensive education meant nothing in a dark alley.

“Just remembering why I started this,” I said, circling him on the training mats.

His eyes, the kind that had seen too much combat during his Special Forces days, gleamed with understanding. “The restaurant incident?”

“Hard to forget.” I threw a combination he’d taught me, remembering how helpless I’d felt that night. How something in me had snapped after years of living in Cooper’s shadow. My brother could handle himself in any situation. I’d needed two waiters and a bus boy to rescue me.

“You’ve come a long way since then.” Stryker shifted his stance, studying my form. “Most guys would’ve taken a few basic self-defense classes and called it done. You stuck with it.”

“Had a good teacher.”

He deflected my next strike easily. “Had good motivation. Nothing like feeling powerless to make a man want to change.”

Early morning sun filtered through the private gym’s windows. For a man who’d spent five years in Delta Force, he was taking it a bit easy on me.

“Your form’s better than fine.” He dropped his guard slightly. “Six months ago, you were a lawyer who fought with words. Now you move like someone who knows how to handle himself.”

The compliment meant something, coming from him. I’d found Stryker through one of the bank’s security consultants after that night at The Wolseley. The gym was high-end but discreet, tucked away in an old warehouse near Canary Wharf. The ex-Delta Force operator studying me didn’t match the polished setting. It was his eyes that gave him away; he looked like he’d seen more than anyone should at his age.

“You’re not here for fitness,” Stryker said, his accent distinct compared to London’s usual tones. “You’re here because you felt helpless. Because you never want to feel that way again.”

The accuracy of his assessment was unnerving. “How did you—”

“Same look I’ve seen in a hundred others. CEOs, diplomats, people who’ve realized money can’t keep them safe.” He moved with controlled grace, demonstrating his point. “Question is, are you willing to do what it takes to change that?”

“You speak from experience,” I said, noting the shadow that crossed his face.

“My sister.” Stryker’s voice went quiet, his American accent thickening with suppressed emotion. “Madelina. Four years ago, she disappeared from a college trip to Europe. She was trafficked. That’s how I ended up here. Searched for years for her. Never even found her body.” He stopped, jaw tight. “I understand what drives men like you. Why you’re here at 5:00 a.m. learning to fight instead of sleeping like a normal corporate lawyer.”

Looking for someone who could teach me to never feel that helpless again.

“Speaking of the legal world,” he said, tossing me a water bottle. “How’s the bank?”

Something in his tone made me look up quickly. “Why?”

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