Chapter 9
MILLER
Iwatch the rhythmic rise and fall of Rya’s lush, beautiful body under the sheets for a long, possessive minute before I force myself out of bed. She’s completely wiped out, a soft smile playing on her swollen, kissable lips.
Images of the last few days in bed with my gorgeous goddess reply in my mind.
I lightly trace the curve of her hip as it’s silhouetted against the sunlight streaming through the window.
Rya’s soft, creamy skin against mine, her fingers curling into the back of my neck as she pulls me down on top of her, and God, the way her eyes close and mouth opens in ecstasy when she’s so nearly reached her peak…
I have to get myself under control. If I continue down this path, I’m going to have to rip the blankets off of Rya and sink into her sweet, wet heat until we both come undone.
Focus, asshole, I mutter to myself. I force myself out of bed and slip on my cargo pants before heading back to the main room. It takes some effort, but I’m able to snap back into tactical mode.
A few minutes later, the shower turns on. Of course, I’d love to join her. But I can’t. Her safety is more important than a quickie in the shower. Besides, we’ll have plenty of time for that back at my house, where the shower is bigger and able to accommodate all of my filthy desires.
While Rya is rinsing off, I sit at my computer to look at the file she cracked. My fingers fly over the keys, decoding the nested data strings she uncovered. The deeper I go, the more the blood in my veins turns to pure ice.
We knew these monsters were more than a normal crime syndicate. We even knew they had government ties. But what I’m looking at now sheds a whole new light on everything we’ve uncovered so far. The digital signatures match high-level, classified US government protocols. But they don’t stop there.
There are former CIA ties, but also international terrorist organizations, including some I’ve never heard of. Shit. The Shadow Syndicate is a global powerhouse we’re only now scratching the surface of.
I instantly patch into the encrypted Aegis frequency, my chest tightening. Easton answers on the first ring.
"Easton, Rya just cracked their crypto node," I bark without greeting. "The Syndicate isn’t just a government splinter cell. They have backdoors into everything. Everywhere. We’re talking about an international crime ring funded by multiple terrorist groups."
"Fucking hell," Easton mutters, his voice turning deadly serious.
"That aligns with what Kai and Atlas just pulled from the ground teams. We just flagged an encrypted communication jump.
Miller, they traced the data bounce back to your sector.
They know where Rya is. Prepare for an attack.
A strike team is already inbound to your coordinates. "
"Let them come," I growl, a feral snarl ripping from my throat as I kill the feed. "I’ll butcher every last one of them before they touch her."
Adrenaline surges through me like molten lava. I hit the manual overrides and the perimeter sensors. I’m a frantic blur of lethal muscle, securing my SIG Sauer and checking the camera monitors, my vision tunneling with the sole need to preserve my woman’s life.
"Miller? What's going on? What are those alarms?"
I turn to see Rya stepping out of the bathroom, her strawberry blonde hair damp and a towel wrapped tightly around her gorgeous, soft curves.
She looks small, confused, and beautiful.
But I can't stop. I'm moving heavy furniture against the secondary entry points, my mind racing through kill zones, forcing myself to maintain that distance even as every nerve in my body aches to close it.
"Miller, stop! Talk to me!" Rya runs up, her small hands grabbing my tensed forearm, trying to physically halt my movements. Because she’s a tiny mouse trying to stop a grizzly bear, her momentum completely fails, and she pulls herself smack into my chest, just like the night we first met.
The second her soft body impacts mine, the frantic, rabid roaring in my head instantly quietens.
I wrap my massive arms around her, burying my face in her damp hair, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
She is my anchor. My peace. This is what I’m fighting to protect at all costs.
Not just Rya, but our future. Our children.
Our life together, growing old on the porch alternating between enjoying the sunset and hacking the rich to give to the poor.
I can see all of it. Now I need to make it come true.
"Miller, please," she whispers against my chest, her voice trembling slightly. "You're ignoring me and brushing me off. I... Did I do something wrong? Did you… I don’t know, lose interest in me after everything we’ve done?”
The words tear through my gut, sharp as shrapnel.
I pull back, cradling her face in my rough hands, forcing her brown eyes to lock onto mine.
Lose interest? The very idea is laughable, a sick joke my mind plays while I’m trying to keep the world from ending for her.
I want to tell her the truth—that she is the only thing currently tethered to my sanity—but the mission’s demands are a cold, iron cage locking that confession away.
Every instinct in my DNA screams to drag her into the corner, to lock her in my arms and keep her there until the danger passes, to hoard her like the most precious commodity in this burning world.
But that possessiveness is a jagged edge, and I have to dull it.
If I give in to the desperate, primitive urge to just hold her, I’ll never let her go. And if I don’t let go, she dies.
I force my grip on her face to remain steady, masking the tremor of my own restraint.
I have to be the machine. I have to be the weapon.
"Look at me, Rya. Look at me, baby girl. I am completely and utterly in love with you. I’m consumed by thoughts of you; I’m a man possessed.
You are the most precious thing in my existence, do you hear me?
” Big brown eyes blink up at me, the tears slowly receding as she takes in my words.
“I’m so fucking sorry I made you doubt that for even a fraction of a second. "
I kiss her fiercely, pouring every ounce of my obsessive devotion into it, tasting her sweetness and trying to memorize it, all while my brain is coldly calculating exit vectors and threat assessments.
It’s a brutal duality. My heart is hers, completely and ruinously, but my hands have to stay lethal.
When I pull back, I keep my palms flat against her shoulders, using the physical distance to snap myself back into the mission.
"The file you found proved the Syndicate is more dangerous and resourceful than we could have ever imagined. They’ve tracked our location, Rya. They’re coming here. Right now."
The words land like ice, forcing me to shift gears. My jaw locks, my focus sharpening into that singular, tunnel-vision intensity that has kept me alive this long. I have to compartmentalize her safety, locking it away in a vault of tactical procedure so I don’t get us both killed.
She swallows hard, but instead of panicking, her jaw sets. She nods, her inner strength shining through those gorgeous eyes. "Then let's show them they picked the wrong tech-nerds to mess with."
I reach for my tactical vest, but Rya’s hands catch the fabric before I can snap it closed.
Her fingers are trembling, a stark contrast to the fierce determination in her eyes as she helps me adjust the straps across my shoulders.
I don't pull away. I take her hands, pressing them over the gear to steady her, needing that one last touch to anchor me before I step into the cold.
"Look at me, Rya," I say, keeping my voice low and steady to cut through the hum of impending adrenaline. I point to the main terminal. "You stay right there. The cabin’s perimeter is reinforced with triple-redundant encryption, and I’ve hardwired the blast shutters to drop the second the alarm trips. "
I guide her through the console, mapping out the kill zones and emergency protocols with precise, clinical detail.
It’s not just a briefing; it’s a blueprint for her survival.
With every switch I explain, I’m building a wall of steel around her, a physical manifestation of the obsession that's currently screaming to lock her away and never let her out of my sight.
"The moment I engage them, the house goes into total lockdown," I continue, tracing my thumb along the line of her jaw, memorizing the shape of her face.
"You aren't just sitting in there, baby.
You're the heart of this defense. You hold the controls, you keep the perimeter live, and you keep your head down. I need to know you’re untouchable inside, so I don't have to hesitate for even a heartbeat when I’m outside. "
She grips my vest, pulling me down for a kiss that tastes like desperation and defiance. "I'll be the iron gate, Miller," she promises. "You just make sure you come back and open it."
"Always," I vow, my voice low and possessive. For the first time, my focus fractures; my brain is calculating tactical vectors, but my heart is already fighting to get back to her.