Page 9 of Her Dirty Defender

“No,” he says quietly. “I’m not.”

The anger in his voice isn’t loud, but it’s deep. Like bedrock.

I lean back, jaw tight. “So you want me to watch your six while you figure out who’s playing with matches.”

“I want you to do what you’re best at. Set up surveillance. And when they come back,” he says, steel in his voice now, “I want to be ready.” Another pause. “So, what do you say, Shadow?”

“Fine,” I mutter. “But if I’m doing this, there’s one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Nobody outside your family needs to know who I am or what I used to be. You brought me in as security. Leave it at that.”

There’s a beat of silence on the line. Then: “Understood.”

I exhale, tightening my grip on the whiskey bottle. Looks like I’m headed to Clover Canyon.

* * *

The road stretches ahead, an unbroken ribbon of asphalt cutting through miles of empty land.Wide sky. Open fields. Nothing but space.

I keep one hand on the wheel, the other tapping my thigh. Restless. Aimless. The hum of the engine beneath me is the only steady thing I’ve got left.

Maybe Angus knew that when he called three days ago.

Maybe that’s why I said yes.

Even though the idea of staying in one place makes my skin itch.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I see the familiar sign glowing in the distance.

The Honey Pot.

A smile pulls at my mouth as I recall the last time I was here.

Before.

Before the war sank its claws into me.

Before I lost my team.

Before I became the man I am now—a shadow of the man I used to be.

Back then, I was different. Lighter. Less hollow.

I was here with my team when we visited Angus on leave—loud, laughing, drinking, swapping war stories like we were invincible.

“Three tours in and not a scratch,”Cooper bragged, raising his glass.“I’m like goddamn bulletproof Kevlar.”

“Jinxing yourself,”Marlowe warned, shaking his head.“Gonna regret that.”

We didn’t know how prophetic those words were.

But we laughed because we had no reason not to back then.

We were still whole.

Still together.