Page 72 of Duty Compromised
Ben nodded slowly. “It’s not a bad idea. Small-town dynamics work in our favor. Plus, you’ve got family there. Extra eyes and ears.”
“And anyone coming after us would have to come through pretty limited access points,” I continued. “Two main roads in, maybe three if you count the old farm route. Easy to monitor. Easy to call backup if we need it.”
“Speaking of backup…” Ben’s expression turned pointed. “Ty, it might be time to call in the cavalry. The full Citadel team.”
I groaned internally. I knew he was right, but that meant calling Ethan Cross. My boss. Who’d specifically ordered me to take medical leave. Who’d made it crystal clear that I wasn’t cleared for active duty for another four weeks. Who was going to be absolutely furious that I’d gone operational without authorization.
“Ethan’s going to lose his shit,” I muttered.
“Better his shit than your life,” Donovan said bluntly. “You need resources, Ty. Secure communications, satellite surveillance, maybe another shooter or two. This is bigger than what the four of us can handle.”
Four of us. He’d included himself without hesitation. Despite everything he’d been dealing with since leaving the Army, despite the nightmares I knew he still had, my brother was ready to step up. Ben too, ready to do whatever was needed. That’s what family did—blood or otherwise.
“I know,” I admitted. “But before we call in the cavalry and definitely before I face Ethan’s wrath, I want to handle something first before we run out of time. The safe house situation—we can use it.”
Charlotte’s head snapped up. “Use it how?”
A plan had been forming since Ben had mentioned the explosives. Risky, but it might buy us the time we desperately needed.
“They rigged that safe house to kill us and make it look like an accident,” I said. “So let’s give them what they want. Let them think they succeeded.”
Understanding dawned in Donovan’s eyes. “You want to blow the safe house.”
“Make it look like we walked right into their trap,” I confirmed. “They’ll think we’re dead. It’ll buy us time while they’re congratulating themselves on a job well done. To get Charlotte somewhere safe, to finish the countermeasure, and to figure out who’s behind this.”
“It could work,” Ben said slowly. “But we’d have to do it fast. Those surveillance teams will report if too much time passes without you showing up.”
Charlotte’s hand found mine, squeezing tight. “You want to fake our deaths.”
“Just temporarily,” I assured her. “Long enough to get ahead of this thing instead of constantly reacting.”
The room fell silent as everyone processed the plan. It was dangerous. Complicated. Required precise timing and more than a little luck. But it was better than running blind while professional killers closed in.
“All right,” Donovan said finally. “Let’s give these bastards exactly what they want.”
Chapter 21
Charlotte
The headlights cut through the predawn darkness as Ty turned off the main road onto a narrow gravel drive. Trees pressed in on both sides, their branches creating a tunnel of shadows that made my chest tighten. The isolation should have felt like safety after everything that had happened, but instead, it made my skin crawl.
“Almost there,” Ty said, his voice low and controlled. The truck bounced over a pothole, and I gripped the door handle harder.
Through the windshield, I caught my first glimpse of the cabin. It sat alone in a small clearing, exactly as Ben and Donovan had described—a modest structure with dark windows and a side garage. No neighbors for miles. No witnesses if something went wrong.
Ty shifted the truck into park but didn’t turn off the engine yet. His hand found mine across the seat, fingers threading through mine with a gentle squeeze.
“Remember what we talked about,” he said. “The second we step out of this truck, we’re onstage. Someone’s listening to everything we say, watching everything we do. We don’t know about any danger. We don’t know about surveillance teams or explosives. We’re exhausted, relieved to finally be somewhere safe, and all you want to do is finish your work on the countermeasure.”
I nodded, trying to swallow past the knot in my throat. “Act natural. Act relieved. Act safe.”
“If you’re not sure what to say?—”
“Say nothing,” I finished. He’d already told me more than once. “Silence is better than giving us away.”
He brushed his thumb across my knuckles, and for a moment, I wanted to pull him close, to stay in this truck where it was just us, where I didn’t have to pretend. The memory of his hands on my skin, the way he’d moved inside me just hours ago, threatened to overwhelm the fear. I’d had no idea sex could be like that—so intense, so consuming. My previous attempts at physical intimacy had been clinical, experimental, treating arousal and orgasm like data points to analyze.
What happened between Ty and me had been something else entirely. There were no control groups, no reproducible results, no way to isolate variables. Just his hands teaching my body a language I didn’t know it could speak, responses I couldn’t predict or chart. The way he’d looked at me—like I was worth discovering, not solving. Like my awkwardness was endearing instead of embarrassing.
