Page 51 of Penn

“What do you think?” I ask her gently. “You good?”

Mila swallows hard, responding with quiet confidence. “More than good. I feel… hopeful.”

“Good,” Kynan says with a curt nod, rising to his feet. “Then let’s get started. I’ll coordinate with my team and Malik will be in charge. We’ll get eyes on both of you by this afternoon and I’ll need to know your travel schedule. We can bump up security on Mila when you’re gone.”

“Mila is going to travel with me,” I say, a pronouncement that has Mila jerking in surprise. “Will your agents travel?”

“Absolutely.” Kynan rounds the desk toward us, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “We’ll keep you both safe.”

I nod, my throat tight as I fight back the surge of emotion threatening to choke me. It’s not me I’m worried about but knowing that Mila won’t be harmed with these badass motherfuckers on our side has me overwhelmed with relief.

“Thank you,” I manage.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Kynan mutters, his expression grim. “We’re just getting started.”

CHAPTER 17

Mila

I’ve always hatedthe sound of power drills. That whirring whine grates on my nerves, but today… not so much. Today it represents upgrades that Jameson is making to Penn’s security system.

In addition to the drilling are faint thuds echoing from somewhere deeper in the house. The noise of fortification and it’s oddly comforting. Knowing Jameson Force Security is here, hard at work, reinforcing the windows, updating the locks, and installing new surveillance gear finally gives me some measure of comfort. Deep in my heart, I know these efforts are probably not needed. That Penn is wasting money doing this because he’s already got a fortress, but I think he’s doing it for me. To make me feel heard, my fears understood. That alone makes me lose more of my heart to him.

I stand in his kitchen, barefoot on the tile, watching the steam rise from a mug of tea I haven’t touched. Penn’s in the great room talking to one of the tech guys, his expression unreadable as he nods along to some update. After we met with Kynan McGrath this morning, I went with Penn to the arena for a practice session. He set me up in one of the associate coach’s offices so I could work and then after, we hustled back to his place to meet Malik.

That particular Jameson agent is a man on a mission. He’s been moving in and out like a shadow, issuing orders with quiet authority, keeping the entire operation running like clockwork.

We’ve learned more about Malik Fournier today while he oversees the security upgrades. It came out casually, in the way people who’ve been through hell sometimes speak about it like it’s just another fact, that he was on a mission in Syria when everything went sideways. Captured. Held for months in a makeshift prison, a hole dug into the desert floor—ten feet deep, chained at the ankle like some forgotten animal. He was starved, isolated, barely kept alive, and left to rot in a shack where the only view he had of the world was a scrap of sky through a single window. Jameson rescued him. Not the government—Jameson. They found him, took out the guards, and pulled him from that pit to safety.

And somehow, he’s still standing here today—quiet, steady, watching everything like he sees threats the rest of us can’t. It makes you look at him differently, knowing what he survived. What he came back from.

It should feel invasive—strangers combing through Penn’s house, wiring things, testing alarms—but somehow, it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because they move with purpose, or maybe because I know they’re doing it for me.

Penn steps into the kitchen, his expression relaxed. He gives me a small beat of a smile, something I’m still getting used to. “You ready?” he asks.

“Are you?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do it.”

I glance at the phone in my hand, hesitating only a moment. It’s up to me to do my part now and after a long discussion with Penn on the way home from the arena, it’s time to enact the next part of our plan.

I scroll through to my contact that simply saysJillianand tap the screen to dial her number. I select speakerphone so I can hear her loud and clear when she picks up after the second ring.

“Mila,” she says, her voice sharp with worry. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nervous laugh. “It’s okay. I mean… it’s stable right now.”

“Thank God,” she huffs out with relief. “I was worried after you tried to get me to stop the article. I was afraid it might put you in danger.”

“It’s fine,” I reassure her, my eyes cutting to Penn who stares right back at me with conviction. “I was more worried about it outing the other witness. I wanted to protect his privacy.”

“His?” she drawls expectantly, going into investigative journalist mode. “So, the other witness was a man? Would he be a player on the Wraiths?”

She asked me this before, but I refused to bring Penn into it. Now, I’m going to make Jillian’s dreams come true.

“It is,” I say, nerves fluttering like dragonflies in my stomach. “I’m ready to share the identity of the other witness. He’s here with me, and he’s willing to talk. You’re on speaker.”

I set the phone down and Penn places his elbows on the counter to either side, leaning over it so he can be heard. “This is Penn Navarro.”

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