Chapter Eight
Jack
The call came in clipped and urgent, the kind of tone I know too well. The senator’s head of security, voice low and grim, telling me there’s been another threat.
I knew the attack at the club wasn’t random, but hearing that there’s been another threat—specifically against Charlie this time, not just against the senator himself…
My jaw clenches so hard it aches.
Not random. Charlie wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was the target.
And she’s here. With me. Out in the open.
I look around the perimeter, scanning the tree line, every sense sharpened to a knife’s edge. Ten minutes I’ve been out here. Ten minutes checking fences, shadows, prints in the dirt. Everything looks clean. Quiet. Too fucking quiet.
Still, I don’t like it. Not one bit.
A one-man security detail for the senator’s daughter—yeah, it sounds reckless on paper. But I’m not just anyone. If they want to get to her, they’ll have to go through me. And I’ll put every last one of them in the ground before I let that happen.
She doesn’t know it, but I’d readily die for her.
And that’s the problem.
I rake a hand down my face, a humorless laugh grinding out of me. Christ, when did this happen? When did she stop being an assignment and become…everything?
She’s only been in my life for a couple of days. Barely a week, and that’s including the time I watched her before she left Washington DC. And yet I can’t picture walking away from her when this is all over.
She’s mine now. I’ve claimed her. Or maybe she’s claimed me. Charlotte Freeman has gotten under my skin in a way no one ever has.
The way she responds to my kisses…the way she looks at me and calls me Daddy like a good girl…everything she does leaves an imprint on me.
And last night…fuck. Last night broke me wide open. I tasted her innocence, claimed it, and there’s no going back.
I check my watch again. Ten minutes gone. Feels like an hour. I need to get back inside, need to see her.
My gut is screaming at me now, the instincts that never fail me tightening like a noose.
Move. Get her out. Don’t waste another second.
Because if I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that peace like this never lasts.
And the thought of losing her before I’ve even figured out what she means to me…that might just kill me before any bullet can.
The second I step back inside, the air shifts. The cabin feels too quiet. Too empty.
“Charlie?” My voice carries through the cabin. Nothing. Not the rustle of her moving around. Not her soft laugh. Nothing but silence pressing in like a weight.
My chest tightens. A feeling I haven’t let myself feel in years seizes me by the throat—panic.
“Fuck.”
I rip through the cabin, checking the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, but there’s no sight of her. She’s gone. Her shoes are missing from the door.
Forcing my breathing steady, I grab my phone and dial her number. One ring. Two. Voicemail. I call again. Still nothing.
“Goddamn it, Charlie!”
I shove the phone in my pocket and sprint outside, my boots pounding the dirt. The trees loom like sentinels, shadows too deep, too many places someone could hide.
“Charlie!” I roar, my voice echoing through the woods. “Charlotte!”
No answer.
The panic surges hotter, faster, clawing at me from the inside out. Then my eyes catch on something glinting faintly in the pine needles. I drop to one knee as I reach for the familiar object.
Her camera.
My stomach drops like a fucking stone.
I thumb my phone again, calling a number I swore I’d retired years ago. It rings once before a familiar gravelly voice picks up.
“Steele? Jesus Christ, thought you were done with this shit.”
“Not tonight. I need a trace.” My voice is steel, no room for hesitation. “Charlotte Freeman. Twenty, brunette, five-seven, last seen near mile marker forty-two, north woods. She’s gone.”
“Kid missing?”
“Not just a kid. My girl. And I don’t have time for questions, Mason.”
A pause, then a grunt. “Send me her cell number.”
I rattle it off. Seconds later, I hear Mason’s keys clattering through the line. “Got a ping. Half mile east of you. Through the woods, there’s a service road.”
“I’ll take it from here.”
“You want me to alert the local PD?”
“Do it. But I’m not waiting on them.” I hang up before he can argue.
I start to run. Every stride eats the ground beneath me, lungs burning, vision narrowed to a tunnel. The forest breaks into a dirt road just in time for me to see a black van with its rear doors open.
Charlie’s being dragged inside, kicking, thrashing, fighting like a goddamn hellcat.
For a split second, pride slices through the terror as I watch her.
That’s my girl. Never going down without a fight.
Then rage takes over. “Get your fucking hands off her!” I yell, already covering the distance between us.
The thug yanking her hair is familiar, the same son of a bitch from the club.
He looks up, eyes widening, and pushes Charlie to the ground right before I slam into him like a freight train.
We crash to the dirt, fists flying. He swings wild, but I’ve been fighting since before this kid knew how to shave.
My knuckles split his lip, my boot crushes his ribs, and I leave him gasping in the dirt.
Charlie’s crumpled by the roadside, breathing hard, dirt smudged across her face. But she doesn’t seem hurt. I made it in time.
The driver panics, slams the doors shut, and guns it down the road, leaving his buddy behind.
Fucking coward.
I don’t chase him. Instead, I crouch low, my hand gripping the thug’s jaw tight enough to make him choke. “Who sent you?”
He spits blood, glaring up at me with empty defiance.
I slam his head into the dirt, lean closer. That’s when I see it—ink peeking from under his collar. A jagged black serpent wrapped around a burning crown.
My blood goes cold. I know that mark. A splinter group that’s tangled with the senator before—contract runners, mercs with no loyalty but cash. Dangerous as hell, but never this bold.
I don’t have time to dig deeper. Charlie needs me.
The sounds of sirens fills the air, headlights bouncing off the trees.
I haul the bastard up by the collar and shove him toward the uniforms who are storming onto the scene. “Keep him breathing,” I bark. “Tattoo on his chest—serpent and crown. He’s not small-time. Get intel fast.”
“Yes, sir,” one officer mutters, hauling the guy back.
But I’m already moving.
The moment I reach Charlie, she throws herself into my arms. Trembling, but alive.
I crush her against my chest, my hand sliding into her hair, holding her like my life depends on it. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re safe.”
She sobs into my neck, and I lower my mouth to her temple in a slow and lingering kiss, wiping her tears away with my thumb.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice rough. “Nobody’s taking you from me. Not while I’m still breathing.”
Her wide brown eyes lift to mine, wet and shimmering. “Jack…I’m sorry—I’ll go with you. I won’t run anymore.”
“Shh.” I press a soft kiss to her mouth, tasting her tears.
She presses her body into mine, angling her head as if urging me to deepen the kiss.
I oblige, sliding my tongue into her eager mouth.
I kiss her slow but deep, reassuring her of my presence.
My passion. My love. Even though I don’t say the words. Can’t.
When I finally pull back, I cradle her face in my hands. “Let’s get you home, princess.”
And this time, I mean it.