Guarding What’s Mine (Men of Maddox Security #3)

Chapter 25

Boone

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and I tense up the second I see Dean’s name flash across the screen. It’s late—later than when he usually calls—so right away my guard is up. Aubree’s in the bedroom folding laundry, humming a little tune I can’t quite place. I stand, running a hand over my hair, and swipe to answer.

“Dean,” I say, trying to keep my voice low and even, “what’s going on?”

A sigh crackles through the line before Dean speaks. “Finally got some updates. Got Bravo Team watching your girl’s stepfather, and so far…nothing. No suspicious meetings, no weird transactions, aside from the ones we already know about. All he does is go to the office, then come home to Aubree’s mom,” he states with a muttered curse. “It’s a damned waiting game. I hate waiting, you know that.”

I pace the living room, glancing every so often at the closed bedroom door to make sure Aubree isn’t listening. “Yeah, I know. But if there’s nothing, there’s nothing. At least it means he’s not making any new moves.”

Dean’s quiet for a beat. “Look, Boone, I also talked to her mom. I gave her a rundown—nothing too detailed, just enough so she knows Aubree’s safe. She was getting worried.”

I feel a knot loosen in my chest. Aubree’s been worried sick about her mother, but we didn’t want to reach out in case her stepfather was monitoring her calls. “She’s all right? The mom, I mean?”

“As far as I can tell, yes,” Dean replies. “She’s anxious, but that’s normal. She wants to see her daughter. I had to convince her that laying low is still the best option. Frankly, she’s got doubts about Charles, but nothing concrete. It’s a mess.”

I exhale slowly, raking a hand over my beard. “All right. Well, thanks for letting me know.” My eyes drift to the fireplace, the dying embers casting a faint glow across the cabin’s interior. “Any other news?”

Dean makes a low noise of frustration. “Not much else. The police have been slow to release info about the brick incident a while back, the one at the shop. Forensics is tied up. And—”

Suddenly, a shrill beep blasts through the phone, loud enough that I recoil, nearly dropping it. Dean hisses a curse on the other end. “Hold on, something’s coming through… Shit. That’s—” He breaks off, presumably reading something on his end. “Boone, an alarm just triggered at Slice Slice Baby. Looks like a forced entry. The system we installed is going off.”

My stomach twists. “Someone broke in just now?” At least we know the system is working, but that’s cold comfort if the place is getting trashed.

“Yeah,” Dean confirms. “I’m pulling up the feed from the local PD… They’re on their way. Gonna take them a few minutes to get there. I’ll get all the info I can—footage, time stamps, maybe a description if the asshole tripped a camera.”

“Understood,” I say through gritted teeth. “You let me know the second you figure out who it is. Or if there’s anything suspicious linking it to the threats.”

“You know I will,” Dean replies. “I hate sitting on my ass while this goes down. But that’s the update for now. Let me see what the cops turn up.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. My thoughts reel with images of Aubree’s beloved shop—how she’s poured her life into it, how she’s probably going to take this news like a gut punch. “All right,” I murmur, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “Keep me posted, Dean.”

He signs off with a clipped “Will do,” and the line goes silent.

For a moment, I just stand there, phone still pressed to my ear, staring blankly at the flickering shadows across the wall. My protective instincts surge, telling me to hop in the truck and tear down the highway back to Nashville, but that’s not possible. Not unless we want to risk leading whoever’s behind all this directly to Aubree. We’ve done too much to stay hidden.

I have to tell her. The thought sends a pang through my chest, because I know exactly how she’ll react—she loves that shop like a child. And right now, with her emotions already wound so tight, I’m not sure how she’ll handle another blow.

Forcing myself to take a calming breath, I slip my phone into my pocket and head for the bedroom door. I knock lightly, but there’s no answer. Cautiously, I push it open and peek inside.

Aubree’s perched on the edge of the bed, folding what looks like one of my T-shirts—it’s huge, practically swallowing her up. She glances up, a soft smile at first, then her brow furrows at my expression. “Boone?” she asks, worry creeping into her tone. “What’s wrong?”

I take a step inside, shutting the door behind me. My voice feels tight in my throat. “There’s, uh…some news,” I begin. “From Dean.”

She stands, the T-shirt sliding off her lap and onto the floor. “News? About Charles? My mom? Or…?”

I cross the room in two long strides. My hands find her shoulders, and I rub gently, trying to ease the tension that’s already knotting her muscles. “Not exactly. Dean says Bravo Team has your stepfather under surveillance, and so far, it’s quiet. He also spoke to your mom. She’s safe, and she knows you’re safe.”

Relief flickers in her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by caution. “You said not exactly. So there’s something else?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “An alarm was triggered at Slice Slice Baby. Looks like someone broke in tonight.”

Her face goes pale. “Broke in?” she repeats, voice trembling. “What— how—? Is there any—”

“Police are on the way,” I say quickly, sliding my arms around her waist. “Dean’s getting updates in real time. We don’t know yet if it’s just petty theft or something tied to the threats.”

Aubree’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her eyes glisten, and I see the tears welling up before she blinks them away. “Someone’s in my shop?” she manages, her voice breaking. “Breaking things, or stealing, or—?”

Unable to watch her anguish silently, I pull her closer, letting her bury her face against my chest. The moment she feels the contact, a sob escapes her. It’s a raw, heart-wrenching sound, and I feel my own chest tighten in response. I stroke her hair, murmuring reassuring words even though I can’t promise everything’s fine.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say softly, though the words feel inadequate. “Dean and the police will handle it. We’ll figure out what happened.”

She shudders, her fingers clutching at my shirt. “Why can’t this just stop?” she asks in a broken whisper. “What did I do to deserve this?”

I press a hand to the back of her head, smoothing the strands of hair. “You didn’t do anything. Someone else—whoever is behind all this—they’re the ones who’ll answer for it,” I promise. “We’ll see to that.”

For a long while, she just cries quietly, tears soaking through the fabric over my chest. Each muffled sob resonates in my gut. I hate seeing her like this—defeated, helpless. It ignites a blaze of anger deep inside me, fueling the determination to put an end to this madness once and for all.

Eventually, her tears subside, and I lead her over to the bed so we can sit. My arm stays wrapped around her shoulders, her cheek pressed to my collarbone. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, swiping at her wet cheeks. “I know you must think I’m weak, crying like this.”

“Never,” I reply, my voice firm. “You have every right to be upset. That shop is your life. It’s only natural you’d be torn up about someone violating it.”

She nods, letting out a shaky breath. “I just… I put everything into Slice Slice Baby. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine, you know? And now…”

Her voice trails off, and I know she’s imagining the worst—broken windows, trashed equipment, stolen cash, or even worse, malicious graffiti or some new threatening note. I grit my teeth at the thought of her walking in there someday to see the damage firsthand.

I brush a hand down her arm, trying to think of some reassurance that isn’t empty. “Dean will get the details,” I say finally. “We’ll know soon exactly what went down. And if it’s connected to these threats, that’s just another piece of evidence that’ll bring us closer to stopping whoever’s behind this.”

She lifts her head, meeting my gaze. Her eyes are red-rimmed, lashes wet. “And if it’s just some random burglar?”

“Then the cops will handle it,” I assure her. “Either way, you’re still here and still safe. That’s what matters most.”

She sniffles, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I just… I hate being so helpless. I want to go there. I want to see it for myself, I want to fix whatever’s broken.”

My heart clenches again at her desperation. “I know,” I murmur. “But going back now could expose you. We don’t want that. Let me… let Dean… let us take care of it.”

She closes her eyes and leans into me, arms looping around my waist. I hold her tightly, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my chest.

After a few minutes, I feel my phone buzz again. My body tenses, and Aubree notices. She pulls back, eyes anxious. “Is that Dean?”

“Probably,” I say, fishing it out of my pocket. Sure enough, Dean’s name lights up the screen. I glance at Aubree. “You want me to answer here, or…?”

She nods, straightening her posture. “I want to hear it.”

I hit the green button, putting the call on speaker. “Dean,” I greet, my voice tight. “You’ve got news?”

Dean’s voice crackles through. “Yeah, I do. Cops got there, found the front door busted in. Cash register was pried open. Not sure how much was in it, but they’re taking prints. Doesn’t look like there’s major vandalism, but who knows if anything else is missing. Could be a smash-and-grab.”

Aubree closes her eyes, relief and frustration mingling on her face. “So it might just be a burglary?” she asks, her voice shaking.

“Could be,” Dean replies. “But I won’t rule out it being connected to the threats until we see the footage. A security camera at the corner store across the street might’ve caught something. I’m on it.”

“Thanks, Dean,” I say. “Let us know if you find out anything else.”

“You got it,” he says, then pauses. “How’re you doing, Aubree?”

Aubree forces a small smile, though there’s no way Dean can see it. “I’m okay,” she whispers.

“She’s hanging in there,” I reply. “Anything else?”

“Just that we keep pressing on. Bravo Team has eyes on Charles, no new developments. If it’s random, we’ll know soon enough. If it’s not…” Dean huffs a breath. “We’ll handle it.”

“Roger that,” I say, acknowledging. “Take care, Dean.”

He disconnects, and the line goes silent again. I set my phone aside, turning my focus back to Aubree. She lets out a shaky breath, her hands knotting together in her lap. “So maybe it’s just a robbery,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. “People break in all the time looking for easy cash, right? Good thing I left the shop empty. Whoever tried to rob me tonight got nothing.”

“Yeah,” I answer softly. “Good girl.”

She nods, though she doesn’t look entirely convinced. Then her gaze flicks to me, eyes full of questions I don’t have the answers to. “And if it’s not just a robbery?”

I hesitate, hating that I can’t offer a firm reassurance. “Then we’ll deal with it,” I say. “We’ve come this far, right?”

She clenches her jaw, a spark of fierce determination flickering to life. “Right.”

I slide my arm around her again, pulling her close so she can rest her head against my shoulder. She takes a few slow breaths, the tension in her body gradually easing. In the quiet, I can’t help but reflect on how insane our situation is—hiding in a cabin, her life’s work being ransacked, the constant question mark hanging over her stepfather’s involvement.

But for now, I hold her, letting her tears dry on my shirt as the minutes tick by. We’re in limbo yet again, waiting for the next piece of information that might change everything. As I press a kiss to the top of her head, one thought resonates clearly: Whatever comes next, I’ll face it with her. Because I’m not about to let some lowlife—and whoever’s pulling the strings—rob Aubree of the life she’s built or the future she deserves.