Page 6 of Duty Unbound

“Family is not enough. Not with something like this,” he said bluntly. “I’d suggest Citadel Solutions. They know how to handle high-profile cases like yours.”

“Ethan Cross heads it up,” he added. “He’s former military, knows what he’s doing. His team can provide comprehensive protection while we investigate.”

The mention of military sparked Nova’s interest. “Is he hot? Because I could totally work with a hot bodyguard scenario for my social?—”

“Nova,” I cut her off, shooting her a look.

Detective Hollis’s lips twitched, but his eyes remained serious. “I know Cross personally. He’s the best in the business. He doesn’t mess around. And yeah, I’m sure ladies would say he’s easy on the eyes.”

More security. More complications. More stress. One more thing to keep up with.

I ran a hand through my hair, already exhausted. “Okay.”

“Considering the nature of this threat, I’d recommend bringing them in as soon as possible.”

The certainty in his voice made my stomach twist. This wasn’t just a one-time incident. This was the beginning of something much worse.

Chapter 3

Ethan Cross

I swallowed a curse as our team’s van jolted over another pothole, the shocks doing a piss-poor job of absorbing the impact. Dust clogged the air, mixing with the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and the lingering bite of blood. My arms ached from days in the field, and my gear—damp with Colombian jungle humidity and stiff with dried mud—felt like an extra layer of weight pressing down.

But the job was done.

Another successful mission for Citadel Solutions, the security contracting firm I’d built from the ground up five years ago. No casualties, no loose ends—aside from the one currently groaning at our feet in the van. And he wouldn’t be our problem soon.

Rafael Herrera—El Lobo, the self-proclaimedWolfof the Cartel del Trueno, although in reality merely a mid-level cartel boss—lay on the floor of the van, bound hand and foot, a black hood pulled over his head. Noise-canceling earmuffs blocked out all sound, and the gag in his mouth kept him from running it.Blood seeped through the fabric where his nose had been broken, the dark stain soaking into the hood.

Good. Bastard was known for trafficking children. So when a certain government agency had contracted us to bring him in, a job they couldn’t officially sanction, we’d readily agreed to do it quietly and off the books.

“Ty, status?” I asked.

Tyler “Ty” Hughes pressed fresh gauze against his upper arm, wincing slightly. The rookie had taken a graze during the extraction. Stupid mistake, standing in the open a second too long, but he’d learn. Everyone did, eventually. If they survived.

“It’s just a scratch, boss.” Ty grinned, the adrenaline still visible in his eyes. “Barely even counts as being shot.”

“It’s not a scratch,” Logan Kane muttered from the driver’s seat as he sped the van along at the fastest rate this shit road would allow. Logan was our tactical specialist and my second-in-command at Citadel. “It’s agraze. There’s a difference. A scratch means you brushed against something. A graze means a bullet almost turned your arm into hamburger.”

“Thanks for the distinction.” Ty rolled his eyes. “Super helpful. Burns like a bitch either way.”

“Stop poking at it.” Jace Monroe, seated across from Ty, barely lifted his head from his laptop, where his fingers flew across the keyboard. “Thatgrazenearly cost us our clean exit. Next time, don’t be so eager to run ahead of cover.”

Ty winced—not from the wound, but from the reminder. “Noted.”

A groan rose from the floor, muffled and insistent. Herrera twisted against the zip ties, his body shifting awkwardly as if demanding attention.

“I think El Lobster wants to chat,” Logan said, his eyes still on the road.

“El Lobo,” Jace corrected. “It means wolf.”

“Whatever. Wolf, lobster. Same thing.”

“Not even remotely the same thing,” Jace muttered.

I turned and nodded to Ty. “Take off the gag and earmuffs for a minute and let him talk. I’m sure he has nothing but important things to say.”

Ty yanked up the hood and pulled down the gag, and Herrera immediately spat on the floor of the van in disgust.

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