Chapter Sixteen
Almost thirty minutes later, they were heading up the lift—no stops, no delays—toward a tailored suit, a different world, and a collision with his past he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
Pierce’s penthouse sat forty-six floors above the city, all glass and clean lines and wealth that didn’t need to announce itself.
The private lift opened into a foyer of white oak floors and soft, recessed lighting—empty, waiting—modern, quiet, and expensive in the way old money always was: understated, confident, untouchable.
Viper stepped out, boots silent on the polished planks.
Even after all these years, places like this scratched something beneath his ribs—memory layered over memory. Cocktail parties. Fundraisers. His mother’s voice drifting from a grand piano. His father discussing oil leases over whiskey old enough to have its own trust fund.
A life he’d taken a break from.
“Take a breath,” Pierce murmured, shrugging out of his coat. “You’ve been here a thousand times.”
Viper didn’t answer. His gaze had already tracked movement in the living room.
A woman stood in the living room—dark hair pinned in a sleek twist, emerald silk blouse, gold hoops catching the city lights. She turned as they approached, a slow smile breaking across her face.
“Reid!”
He knew that smile.
One of his best friends in the damn world. They talked every month or so, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her standing there.
“Lena.” His throat tightened. He’d missed the hell out of her.
Lena Beaumont crossed the space in three quick, unhesitating strides and wrapped her arms around him—tight, fierce, like someone reclaiming a missing piece.
He hugged her back, one hand braced between her shoulders, breathing her in. Clean perfume. Expensive. Familiar in a way that scraped old memories loose.
“Too damned long,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “It has.”
Pierce tossed his keys onto a marble tray. “Called her the second you rang. Figured you might want a friendly face.”
Viper huffed a breath that could’ve been a laugh. “Didn’t think I rated backup.”
“You don’t,” Pierce said, grinning. “She was already dressed.”
Lena swatted Pierce’s arm without looking at him. Her attention stayed fixed on Reid—eyes bright, taking him in head to toe with that fierce, assessing look she always gave him. The one that said he needed a damn keeper.
“You look tired,” she said softly.
Viper’s jaw flexed. “Long month.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
Pierce clapped his hands once. “All right. Enough sentiment. Reid needs a suit, a shave, and to stop looking like he crawled out of the desert.”
Lena smiled, heading toward the hallway. “Good thing you two are the same size. Come on, Kensington. Let’s fix you up.”
“Hey…” he said softly, and they both halted to face him. “Let’s call it a night.” He checked his watch. “By the time I get cleaned up and dressed, and get back there, it’ll be damned near three in the morning.”
“Oh, thank God,” Lena laughed.
Pierce dropped into the nearest leather chair, already toeing off his shoes. “Good call. You do look like hell, big bro.”
Viper exhaled, long and low. The burn of exhaustion crawled under his skin. “Yeah. I’m dead on my feet.”
“Too tired for a movie?” Lena asked gently.
He shook his head. “No. Actually… that sounds nice.”
She perked up instantly. “Perfect. I’ll get the popcorn.” She was already moving toward the kitchen. “And don’t you dare fall asleep on his couch, Kensington. I haven’t seen you in years—I’m milking this.”
Viper chuckled.
Pierce groaned. “I get movie rights.”
Viper shot him a mock scowl. “If you put on another damn sci-fi marathon—”
“Hey,” Pierce said, hand over his heart. “Intergalactic Warfare IV is a masterpiece.”
“Oh hell,” Viper grumbled.
“That’s debatable,” Lena called, laughing from the pantry.
“No, it’s garbage,” Viper said, smirking.
Pierce gasped like he’d been shot. “Blasphemy.”
Lena reappeared with a bowl of popcorn bigger than her head. “Anything without aliens or laser swords.”
“Thank you,” Viper said smugly.
A sharp knock hit the penthouse door.
Pierce frowned. “Expecting someone?”
Viper wasn’t—
Except he was.
He’d sent the damn address.
“Yeah,” Viper muttered, pushing to his feet.
Pierce followed close behind.
Viper opened the door.
Memphis stood there, grinning like he owned the place. Law hovered just behind him, steady as a wall. Rhett gave a small salute, travel duffel slung over one shoulder.
Viper gaped, he couldn’t help it.
“Hey, Viper,” Rhett drawled.
“Evening,” Memphis said with a smile at Pierce. “You got room on that couch?”
Pierce blinked. “Why are there three large armed men in my hallway?”
“Because Viper forgot how to use words,” Memphis answered, stepping past Viper like he didn’t need permission. “Nice place. Smells rich.”
Law nodded to Viper. “Didn’t want them running solo.”
Rhett plucked a piece of popcorn from Lena’s bowl as he passed. “And your brother’s doorman hates us.”
Lena’s face lit up. “Oh, I love them already.”
Pierce stared at the trio like they were exotic wildlife. “My night just got louder.”
Viper couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. His muscles eased—just a fraction. “Grab a seat,” he said, voice low. “Movie’s starting.”
Memphis flopped onto the rug. Law took the armchair like it was a tactical perch. Rhett stole half of Pierce’s blanket without apology.
Family—
the dangerous, mismatched, ridiculous kind—
settled in around him.
Viper sank onto the sofa, muscles unwinding for the first time in a week.
The city flashed against the glass, quiet for once.
Tomorrow, he’d find Titus.
Tonight… family was enough.
Viper woke to the low hum of the city and the faint clatter of someone in the kitchen.
Not “someone.”
Memphis.
He knew that heavy-footed shuffle anywhere.
Viper pushed upright on Pierce’s couch, scrubbing a hand over his face.
The apartment was dark except for the thin gray wash of dawn creeping across the glass.
His jacket lay draped over the armrest, boots kicked under the coffee table.
He hadn’t meant to pass out. Hadn’t meant for them all to stay.
And he damn sure hadn’t meant for backup to show up uninvited.
“Morning, sunshine,” Memphis called, voice low, edged in a grin Viper didn’t have to see to recognize.
Viper swung his legs to the floor. “Why the hell did you follow me?”
Memphis leaned against the marble island, cup of coffee in hand, wearing the same shirt he’d worn at the ranch—faded, wrinkled from the plane—clearly hadn’t used his brother’s shower.
“You gave me an address. And an access code. That’s basically an invitation.”
“I mean to New York.”
A second voice drifted from behind him. “Some invitation,” Rhett muttered, stepping into view. “Your brother’s doorman looked at us like we were stray dogs.”
Viper groaned.
Law followed, moving quieter than both of them, eyes already tracking exits, shadows, and the lay of the penthouse like he was cataloging a target. “You left without a word,” he said simply.
Viper frowned. “I didn’t think anyone needed to follow me.”
Memphis snorted. “Yeah, that’s adorable. You vanished, looking like you were about to murder someone with a dessert spoon? I’m not letting that go.”
Rhett dropped onto Pierce’s leather chair with a grunt. “Also, flights to New York were cheap.”
“Cheap, my ass,” Viper muttered, knowing how expensive they really were. These guys probably used their savings to come.
Law’s mouth twitched—just barely. “And Memphis snores. Couldn’t leave him unattended.”
“Assholes,” Memphis muttered, but he didn’t deny it.
Viper rubbed slow circles into his temple. “Does anyone know you three are here?”
“Define anyone,” Law drawled, walking over to pour a cup of coffee.
“Save me a cup,” Pierce said, entering the kitchen.
His brother appeared still half-asleep, hair mussed, wearing a T-shirt that probably cost more than Memphis’s boots. “Your friends eat like linebackers, by the way. They damn near cleared out the fridge in the middle of the night.”
Memphis grinned. “Thanks for the cereal.”
“That was imported from Switzerland,” Pierce deadpanned.
“Yeah,” Memphis said, shrugging, “tasted imported.”
Pierce blinked, defeated.
Viper sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”
Law crossed his arms. “You needed backup.”
Rhett added, “And someone has to keep Memphis from picking fights while you’re gone.”
“Hey—” Memphis started.
“He was trying to get into Aurelia last night,” Pierce offered, ignoring Viper’s glare.
“Club?” Rhett asked, popping two slices of bread into the toaster.
“High end,” Pierce gave Viper a smug smile.
“You’re not going into a club alone,” Memphis said.
Viper’s jaw flexed. “I didn’t ask for help.”
“You didn’t have to,” Memphis said quietly. “We’re here anyway.”
Silence settled—not heavy, just familiar.
Pierce folded his arms, eyeing the three operatives. “Am I… hosting a small army?”
“Looks like it,” Viper said, but beneath the reluctant tone was a smidgin of relief. He wouldn’t have to face Titus alone. Now he just needed to come up with a reason to hunt the guy down.
What the fuck? Since when did he need a reason? He didn’t. Period. He was finding Titus and asking him flat out if he wanted to give them a try.
“Okay,” Pierce said with a smile as if something unspoken had been finished. “I’ll make another pot of coffee.”
“Good man,” Rhett said. “But we have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“We don’t have the attire to get into a club.”
“You leave that to me,” Pierce said, eyeing them up and down.
Viper stood, fatigue sliding off his shoulders one inch at a time. “Looks like I’m outnumbered.”
“You are,” Rhett snickered and cracked his knuckles.
Law nodded once. Pierce whistled a happy tune, and Memphis grinned like trouble.
“God help me.” Viper smothered a half laugh half snort.
But for the first time since the desert, something inside Viper steadied.
Tonight, he’d find Titus.
This time, he wasn’t going alone.