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leg. He obeys immediately, and his ears prick tall as he goes into work mode. My heart pounds seeing his reaction, but I open the door and he stays next to me, literally touching my leg as I walk down the hall and peer around the corner. There’s a man in uniform waving like a lunatic, then putting a finger to his lips to indicate I shouldn’t talk. His eyes flit down to the dog and then they widen in fear.

Good boy, Chonk, I think.

The man is a SEAL. One I don’t recognize at all, but a comforting sight all the same. Not some murderous fiend. I give the command to signal no danger and open the door just a crack to greet the man.

“Don’t say a word. Come with me,” he whispers,

I open my mouth to dissent, obviously, but he puts his finger up to his lips again and pulls at the collar of his shirt in an animated gesture, then cups his ear to indicate someone is listening. We’re tapped somehow? I nod slowly, understanding. This could be a trick. It always seems to get me in some kind of trouble when I trust SEALs, but the man slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out a penny, heads side up. Lincoln. He sees my immediate reaction, and nods fervently, and hikes his thumb over his shoulder to his idling truck.

“Heading to grab brunch, Aspen. Chonk is going to stay here with you. Double-check on my patients today, okay? I’ll be right back.” I made it seem as normal as possible. Aspen calls back she understands, but still pops her head around the corner to see. “Go see Aspen,” I command Chonk. He leaves me hesitantly, but sits next to her. “Guard,” I say, aiming a finger at the dog and then my friend.

He goes into work mode again, and I can see the panic in Aspen’s gaze as she takes in the scenario in front of her. She knows the dog’s commands. Even the scary ones. She also knows the reason I got him in the first place. I raise both brows reassuringly and put my finger against my lips.

“Be right back,” I say, while also making the motion to lock the door.

I wait for her to nod agreement before I pick up my handbag on a table by the entrance and follow the gentleman outside to the parking lot. I exhale a noisy breath as soon as I hear the door click behind me. “Talk!”

He shakes his head and points to my purse. I hand it to him and watch his mouth agape as he takes my cell phone out, throws it to the ground, and stomps on it. He looks up and seems to be relieved to finally be able to speak. “I’m Tommy and pardon my French, ma’am but this is a right, true fucked-up situation. Lincoln is waiting for you. I’m just helping him out.”

“Isn’t he in Utah?”

“He was. Well, we all were and then well, I’m going to let him tell you everything.”

“Why? He broke up with me. Why would he care to tell me anything at all?”

He laughs. “Ma’am, just let me drive you. Your office and car are wired, your phones are tapped. Everything in your entire life is non-secure. On his end, too.” He opens the passenger side truck door. “My truck is safe, fear not.”

Could this be why he said the things he did last night? Someone else, someone bad, was listening? I dare not hope. At least, not yet.

I look at the swaggering rake of a man as he drives us down the highway and turns off on a gravel road—one I’ve never taken before and have no clue where it leads. “Funny, I don’t feel very safe being whisked away from my office by you.” And away from my dog.

He chuckles. “I don’t fuck with things that belong to Lincoln. Don’t worry.”

Furrowing my brow, I say, “Ew. That’s not what I meant. I hardly belong to anyone, either. Just so you know.”

“Apologies ma’am.”

“Stop calling me ma’am and give me something. First Lincoln refuses to answer my calls, breaks up with me, has a strange man pick me up, and vows you to silence? I think not. Spill it.”

He smiles nervously, checking his rearview and both side mirrors for the thousandth time during our short drive. “I’m sorry, I’d rather do what he’s told me to do and let him do all the talking.”

“That bad?” My voice creaks.

He pulls a face, like I’m crazy, and parks his truck into a parking spot in front of a shooting range. There’s nothing else out here. Literally. It’s deserted. “Well, yeah. It is the cartel.”

What. The. Fuck.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LINCOLN

I pace the lobby of the dark shooting range. A friend owns it and let me come in before they opened today. It was the only place I could think of that was out of the way and secure enough to know I wasn’t followed. The cement walls lack windows, so I have to stay put until Tommy gets here with Maeve. At least, I pray he turns up here with Maeve. At this point, I’m expecting the unexpected. I drove a rental car from the airport this morning, and decided to keep using it until we figure out how infiltrated our world has become. Somewhere along the line, longing was replaced by love. And that love? It blinded the ever-loving fuck out of me.

Even now, I’m disobeying orders given. If you don’t let her go, he’s going to kill them both. He’s in the woods by her house as we speak. Break up with Maeve for good or suffer the consequences. Do you want your son safe? Do you want Maeve Ahern unharmed? Break her heart. If you tell the police, they’ll be dead in seconds. The words from last night play in my head over and over. I left training early with Tommy and Isaac, citing there was

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