Page 63 of Rescuing Aria
“You’re warning me off.”
“I’m providing context. I’ve learned warning men off from the women they protect is an exercise in futility.” Forest stands, moving back to the window. “Guardian HRS operates in the shadows by necessity. We cannot afford complications with clients of Marcus’s caliber.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “With respect, sir, my personal life?—”
“Is inextricably linked to your professional one.” Forest turns, his expression softening marginally. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m certainly not telling you who you can and can’t date. None of you listen to me anyway. I’m smarter than that, but I’m telling you to proceed with your eyes open. Especially now, with Night Pack potentially back in play.”
My phone vibrates again. This time, I glance at the screen. A text from Aria:Meet me at the shop?
“I appreciate the concern.” I stand, straightening my shoulders. “But I can handle Marcus Holbrook.”
“For your sake, I hope that’s true.” Forest’s expression suggests I’ve just claimed I could handle a hurricane with an umbrella. “If Damien Wolfe is targeting Aria again, Marcus will pull out all stops to protect her. Including removing anyone he perceives as—complicating factors.”
The warning settles like ice in my veins. Not for my safety—Marcus is many things, but not a murderer—but for what it could mean for Aria. For us.
“I should go.” I check my watch. “I’m meeting her at six.”
Forest nods, dismissal clear. As I reach the door, his voice stops me.
“Jon.” When I turn, something almost like concern shows on his weathered face. “You’re one of my best. Don’t let personal feelings cloud your judgment when it matters most.”
The advice—warning, really—follows me out into the corridor. I check my phone again, typing a quick reply to Aria:On my way. Be there soon.
As I head to my truck, Storm falls into step beside me, his expression unusually serious.
“So. Damien Wolfe.” He keeps his voice low. “Think the boss is right?”
“Forest is always right. Whether I like it or not.”
“And Aria?” Storm’s question carries layers of meaning.
“Could be in danger again. Along with Ember, the shop, and everything they’ve built. Ryn too.” Although I hope that’s not the case.
“Want me to run surveillance tonight? I’ll get Razor to join. Although I bet Blaze beats us to the shop. “Quiet, unobtrusive. Just an extra set of eyes while you’re playing bodyguard at dinner.”
“That would help. We’re meeting Marcus at Mastro’s.” The offer reminds me why I trust this man with my life.
“Fancy.” Storm grins, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wear your good suit, pretty boy.”
I shoot him a look. “Just keep an eye on the shop. Razor can back you up. I don’t want Ember or Ryn alone tonight.”
“Consider it done.” Storm claps me on the shoulder. “Watch yourself with Holbrook. Men like that don’t share their toys easily.”
“Aria isn’t a toy.”
“No.” Storm’s expression turns serious again. “But I doubt Daddy Warbucks sees it that way.”
The observation follows me to my truck, mixing uneasily with Forest’s warning and the specter of Damien Wolfe’s return.As I navigate toward The Little Matchstick Girl, I can’t shake the feeling that tonight’s dinner is about to become much more than just an awkward meeting with Aria’s father.
The shop comes into view, its warm glow a beacon against the darkening evening. Through the front window, Aria moves about, her graceful figure haloed by soft light. Something in my chest tightens at the sight—a feeling I’m still learning to name.
I park across the street, taking a moment to survey the area. Old habits. The commercial district is winding down for the evening, and most stores are closed or closing. A few pedestrians stroll the sidewalks, headed home or to dinner. Nothing out of place, nothing suspicious.
And yet…
My gaze catches on a sedan parked half a block down. Dark, nondescript. The kind designed to blend in. The driver’s silhouette sits motionless, face obscured by the gathering dusk.
It could be nothing. A rideshare driver waiting for a fare. Someone checking their phone before heading home.
