Page 26 of The Gentleman

Leo killed the headlights and scanned the street—seven floors of government-salary living. Two parked cars, a moped and a woman with her dog checking her phone.

Everything looked normal. Too normal.

Cold rain soaked his neck as he exited the car, but nothing could wash away the ghost of her touch. His hand still burned where she’d grazed his skin—an invisible brand.

Focus.

He’d built his career on emotional compartmentalization—feelings locked away, mission first. But Kat had demolished those walls.

She emerged from the car, rain instantly making the T-shirt cling to her curves. A contradiction—vulnerable and lethal in the same breath.

Her life hung in the balance, and all he could think about was the way the streetlight kissed her skin. The way her damp hairclung to her jaw. The faint tremble she tried to hide. That he noticed any of it was a fucking liability.

“Fourth floor?” He shrugged out of his jacket, the fabric still warm from his body heat as he settled it around her shoulders. Her eyes met his—surprise flickering into something softer. “Thanks.” The moment stretched between them, rain-soaked and electric, before she turned away. “This way.”

She led him across the rain-dark road. He fell into step behind her, his body a shield angled between her and the street. Every shadow, every movement registered in his peripheral vision.

His hand skimmed close to his weapon. He’d keep her safe, no matter what. The thought would have alarmed him under different circumstances. When had her welfare become more important than professional distance?

The stairwell echoed with their footsteps as they climbed. The door to 403 opened before they knocked. A woman with choppy blonde hair appeared, eyes wide.

“What the hell, Kat?” She stared at Kat’s oversized T-shirt before shifting her attention to Leo, her eyebrows raising briefly.

“Jane. Can we come in?” Kat tugged at the hem of her T-shirt.

Leo mirrored her glance over his shoulder. Still clear—but every nerve screamed exposure.

Jane stepped back, allowing them entry. Leo waited until Kat was safely inside before following.

The small living room was spotless. Meticulous bookshelves with color-coded spines in rigid lines. Furniture arranged with precision. Pale carpet with matching cushions.

The neat freak in him approved.

But dirty mugs littered the coffee table. Quiet evidence of unraveling.

She motioned for them to sit. Leo stayed close to Kat, positioning himself to monitor the door, windows, and Jane.

“This is Leonid.” A pause stretched like a held breath. “A... friend.”

That pause punched through him harder than any bullet.

“Jane. Did you try to warn me about something?”

Jane’s hands trembled around the kettle. “Coffee? This bloody rain?—”

“Jane.” Kat’s voice iced over.

The kettle hit the worktop with a bang. “Sorry. Yes, I tried.” Jane exhaled. “I heard rumblings. Isent that text in case they were monitoring your phone—so it wouldn’t raise any red flags.” Her shoulders slumped. “By the time I realized how serious it was, it was too late. Victoria had already gone to your house.”

“What exactly did you hear?” Leo’s voice held quiet authority as he shifted, maintaining his sight line to the door.

“Adrik Korolov.”

Again. Shit.

Kat flicked a glance at him.

“I archived all the files from Hellisheidi,” Jane said, white-knuckled on the counter. “Korolov is filthy rich—property all over Europe, private jets, rare artifacts?—”

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