16. Lines of Defense #2
She trembles in my arms, little moans escaping her throat as the last waves of pleasure wash through her.
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Naomi lost in ecstasy, completely abandoned to sensation.
And somehow, I’ve got to find a way to extract myself from this goddess and go to work.
It’s always weird walking through the club during early morning hours.
The space that typically house bodies pressed together, filling every open space, is now empty.
Traces of last night’s revelry linger—the faint scent of spilled drinks, glitter catching the light like fallen stars, bass still seeming to pulse through the floorboards though the speakers fell silent hours ago.
I stand at the bar, coffee growing cold in my hands as Zeke paces the length of his office through the glass window above.
His agitation manifests in taut shoulders and clipped gestures as he talks to Seb and Eli.
Francesca’s recent aggressive moves have disrupted the delicate balance we’ve worked to establish in Columbus.
My fingers brush unconsciously over the nearly-healed knife wound on my arm. The traitor inside our organization who provided access to the men who attacked me remains unidentified, creating fractures of suspicion that threaten to shatter our carefully constructed alliance.
I can’t help but wonder if Francesca’s responsible for the recent attack on me. Did she manage to buy the loyalty of one of our men? If so, we’ll find out and they’ll pay dearly for the betrayal.
Draining the last of my coffee, I head upstairs to join the others. Each step sends a dull ache through muscles still stiff from my morning activities.
I’m not as young as I used to be, though I’d never admit that weakness aloud. My job requires strength, requires others to see me as undiminished. Especially now, with threats multiplying like shadows at dusk.
The office falls silent as I enter. Zeke’s calculating gaze meets mine, weighing options I can already guess.
Seb lounges against the desk with deceptive casualness, but tension radiates from his relaxed posture.
And then there’s Eli. My old friend’s expression carries the same gravity weighing on my own shoulders.
We’ve been in this game too long not to recognize when the stakes have risen beyond acceptable risk.
“Micah.” Zeke acknowledges my arrival with a nod. “We were just discussing Francesca’s latest moves.”
I claim one of the leather chairs, noting how the others unconsciously shift to accommodate my presence. Years of working together have created an instinctive choreography between us. “Tell me.”
“She’s been making rounds.” Seb’s casual tone belies the significance of his intelligence. “Meeting with the heads of every family in Columbus. Even those who’ve already pledged loyalty to us.”
“Testing for weak points.” I’ve seen this strategy before. “Looking for cracks she can exploit.”
Zeke’s jaw tightens. “That’s not all. Our sources say she’s been in contact with Nicolo.”
Fucking Nicolo Moretti. A man whose reach extends far beyond his territory, whose memory never fails, and whose grudges never fade. If Francesca has indeed allied with him, we could be looking at war.
“Confirmed?” I keep my voice steady despite the implications churning through my mind.
“Three separate sources.” Eli speaks for the first time, his deep voice resonating with certainty. “She flew to New York last week. Spent two days there.”
“Fuck.” Two days is more than enough time to negotiate terms, to lay groundwork for cooperation that could destroy everything we’ve built here.
Zeke resumes his pacing, each step measured and deliberate. “We need to know what she’s planning. What promises she’s made to Nicolo, what support she’s been offered in return.”
I see where this is heading even before he turns to face me. “You want me to infiltrate.”
It’s not a question. Of the four of us, I have the most experience with delicate intelligence gathering.
Years as a “fixer” have taught me how to move undetected, how to extract information from subtle clues.
More importantly, I have history with the Barone family—connections that might grant access where others would be denied.
“She’s hosting a gathering tonight, and of all of us, you have the strongest relationship.” Seb produces an elegant invitation from his jacket pocket. “Very exclusive. Very private. But our mutual friend in the security company she uses owed me a favor. He got me this.”
I take the heavy cardstock, studying the flowing script. An intimate dinner party at Francesca’s estate, ostensibly to celebrate her brother’s upcoming appeal hearing. The perfect cover for gathering her allies, for solidifying whatever arrangements she’s made with Nicolo.
“Getting in won’t be the problem. Getting out with useful intelligence…” I say, voicing the concern we’re all feeling, “that’s another matter.”
“You don’t have to do this.” Zeke’s words carry the weight of years of friendship, of trust earned through shared battles. “We can find another way.”
But we all know there isn’t time. Whatever Francesca has planned, it’s already in motion. The attack on me was likely just the opening move in a larger strategy. A way to get my attention. We need to know what we’re facing before her next strike lands.
“I’ll do it.” The decision feels heavy on my tongue, yet somehow inevitable. “But we need contingencies in place. If she’s working with Nicolo—”
“Already handled.” Eli’s confidence steadies me. “I’ll have a team on standby, ready to extract you if things go sideways.”
Seb adds his own reassurance. “And I’ll work my contacts, see what other intelligence we can gather. You won’t be going in completely blind.”
Zeke studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, accepting my commitment while shouldering the responsibility it entails. “We’ll need to get you a suit. And you’ll need a wire—something subtle enough to evade detection.”
The discussion turns technical as we hash out details. Entrance and exit strategies, communication protocols, extraction signals. Each element must be perfect. One mistake could prove fatal.
As the others focus on logistics, my thoughts drift to Naomi. She’s waiting at the cabin, safely hidden from the chaos about to erupt in Columbus. The urge to protect her has become so fundamental I sometimes forget it wasn’t always there. Now it colors every decision, adds weight to every risk.
At least she’s safe . The thought steadies me as we continue planning. Whatever happens at Francesca’s estate, whatever intelligence I uncover, Naomi remains beyond reach of our enemies. I’ve made sure of that.
The meeting stretches into afternoon, sun shifting across the office floor as we refine our strategy. When we finally disperse to our various assignments, Zeke holds me back with a gesture.
In the sudden silence, with security measures ensuring our privacy, Zeke asks the question I’ve been avoiding. “Are you sure about this? After the attack—”
“I’m sure.” The words are automatic, despite us both knowing the risks. “If she’s behind this, it means she chose me when I was attacked. Out of all of us, I have the longest history with her. This could be a ploy to turn me against you and join her. Make being on your team look too dangerous.”
He nods slowly, accepting my determination while wrestling with his own concerns. “Just be careful. We can’t afford to lose you.”
The sentiment, unusual from my typically stoic friend, catches me off guard. But before I can respond, he’s already turning away, retrieving a bottle of whiskey from the bar behind his desk. The conversation is over, though its implications linger.
I reach for my phone as I leave the club. Naomi answers on the first ring. Her warm voice eases some of the tension from my shoulders. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” I can hear her smile in her tone, imagine her curled up with one of the books I bought her. “Coming home soon?”
“That’s why I’m calling.” I keep my voice steady, giving nothing away. “I might be later than expected. Don’t worry if you don’t see me tonight.”
A pause, brief but heavy with unspoken questions. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” The lie tastes ashy but necessary. “Just some business that needs handling. Nothing to worry about.”
“Micah.” She trails off, and I can picture her biting her lower lip, a habit that surfaces when she’s concerned. “Be careful?”
“Always am.” This, at least, isn’t a lie. Caution has kept me alive through decades in this dangerous world.
Another pause, longer this time. “I miss you.”
The words hit me smack dab in the chest, intensifying my need to see her, to ensure she never faces the dangers about to unfold in Columbus. “Miss you too, lovely. Try not to worry.”
We disconnect, but her voice echoes in my mind as I head toward my next task—meeting with our security consultant to begin preparations for tonight’s infiltration. Each step carries me further from the cabin, from Naomi’s warmth and safety, toward whatever waits in Francesca’s carefully laid trap.
But it’s all necessary. To keep Naomi safe, to protect everything we’ve built, I have to know what Francesca’s planning. Have to identify the traitor who might have already compromised our organization. The risk to myself is irrelevant compared to the larger stakes.
Still, as I navigate Columbus’s busy streets, Naomi’s final words replay in an endless loop. I miss you .
I force my thoughts back to the mission ahead. Sentiment is a luxury I can’t afford right now.
Francesca Barone won’t hesitate to exploit any weakness she discovers.
And caring for Naomi definitely qualifies as a weakness.