Page 46 of Penn

Babe.

He just called mebabeand it sounded so natural. I stare at him a moment, trying to see if there’s some regret or embarrassment deep in his eyes, but he doesn’t even seem to notice what he just called me.

I shake off the warm fuzzies. “I’m not exactly survivalist material. I guess the smartest thing I could do is jump on King’s yacht.”

“Plenty of room.” He chortles and then looks across to Penn. “You’ve probably got a full tactical plan. Come on, man.”

Penn’s grin is lazy and full of confidence. “Fortify my house. Stockpile food and ammo. Take out any threats before they get too close.” He shrugs, casual about the whole thing. “Survival101.”

Willa shakes her head, clearly amused. “Of course, you’ve thought this through.”

“I like to be prepared,” Penn says with a smug grin.

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “And where am I in this scenario?”

Penn’s grin softens, a hint of something more vulnerable peeking through. “Not on King’s yacht. You’d be by my side. Obviously.”

My heart gives a ridiculous little flutter, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Willa coos, and King groans.

“Now you’re making the rest of us look bad, Navarro,” King mutters, shaking his head.

Penn smirks, reaching for his beer. “What can I say? I’m a man with a plan.”

“All right,” Willa says with a grin. “Since we’re all in this together, I call dibs on raiding Sephora before the world ends. A girl’s got priorities.”

King groans again, but the laughter that follows is easy and genuine, the heaviness of the past few days momentarily forgotten.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m part of something… normal.

And as dull as normal sounds, it’s truly the best feeling in the world.

CHAPTER 16

Penn

The black SUVglides effortlessly through the bustling streets of downtown Pittsburgh and my mind races with possibilities. Mila sits beside me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She’s quiet, but I can sense her tension—the way her shoulders are just a little too stiff, her jaw clenched as she stares out the window. I don’t blame her. I’m not exactly at ease either. We’re about to walk into a world I know nothing about. A world of covert operations, elite security, and men who operate in the shadows.

Our driver, Malik Fournier, is Van’s brother-in-law and one of Jameson Force Security’s top agents. He navigates the city like he owns the damn place. I’ve barely said a word since we climbed into the SUV that was sent to fetch us, but Malik hasn’t seemed to notice. He’s relaxed, humming quietly, one hand draped casually over the steering wheel as if he’s chauffeuring us to brunch instead of a high-security operation.

I talked to the owner of Jameson, Kynan McGrath, first thing this morning and he’d been expecting my call as Van had put the wheels in motion. It wasn’t a long conversation, but in his precise British accent he told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to come to his offices immediately. I asked for his address and he refused, instead telling me he’d have a driver there in thirty minutes to pick us up.

“So, Van tells me you’re pretty good with your fists.” Malik finally breaks the silence, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to catch my gaze.

My fists? I’m a valuable high-scoring asset on the team. I don’t get into fights on the ice. Well, not unless McLendon is testing my last bit of patience. “I leave it up to my defensemen to drop the gloves.”

Malik laughs. “Yeah, I watch you plenty on the ice. But I’m talking about that little incident Van told me about where you took on two bikers. Man, you don’t do things halfway.”

Mila’s head whips my way. She doesn’t know about that and I expect she’ll grill me about it later. It’s odd… her sitting next to me, big blue eyes questioning in a way that goes beyond just a curious friend. She looks like a woman who spent all night underneath me and now has the right to worry about such things.

I reach over, take her hand and draw it over onto my lap. “I’ll tell you about it later.” My eyes lift, catch Malik’s in the rearview mirror. “Let’s just say I had a lot of pent-up frustration that night.”

Malik grins, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Van mentioned you keep to yourself a lot.”

“Yeah… that’s my reputation,” I mutter, and it’s a sad commentary on the last few months. Van and I are teammates, but I don’t know him or his wife, Simone, all that well. “I haven’t exactly been the most social guy in the locker room.”

Malik gives a knowing nod but doesn’t press. “Van’s a good guy. Simone’s golden too, but I’m a little biased as her brother. You ever need anything, they’d have your back, as I expect all your teammates would.”

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