Chapter 13 #2
Kiki wandered in behind him, her gaze sweeping the space. “It’s beautiful!” Her eyes lit up when she spotted the small door on the far wall. She walked over, turned the knob, and peeked inside. “Oh. My. God. I’m in heaven,” she whispered.
It was a full bathroom—white marble tiles, a glass-enclosed walk-in shower, and a deep soaking tub nestled under a slanted window that framed the lake like a painting.
She turned back, joy lighting her features. “This is amazing.”
Nikos crossed to her side. His heart gave a dull thump in his chest as her face tilted up to his, that same open wonder in her eyes that undid him every time.
Her hoodie slipped slightly, revealing her slender neck and a single curl caressed her jaw.
He lifted a hand to her cheek. She leaned in and rubbed her cheek against his palm.
A reverent warmth stirred in his chest. His touching her felt—right. It was a strange feeling. One that he had never consciously thought of before. Definitely something he had never felt before with another woman.
He cleared his throat. “I should check the rest of the house—see what kind of food Angel left and maybe whip up something for breakfast.”
She gave him a sideways smile. “You must be exhausted.”
He shook his head, reluctantly letting his hand fall away. “I don’t need much sleep. Markos and I will take turns keeping an eye out. Luckily, Angel’s security system is top-notch. Cameras, sensors, smart-locks—you name it. Plus, it’s unlikely that anyone will know we came here.”
Kiki’s brow furrowed. “I can help too.”
He studied her for a beat, then nodded slowly. “That’s something we definitely need to talk about.”
Her expression closed. She turned away, her arms folded around her waist.
“Hey,” he said softly, stepping forward.
He reached out again—this time letting his hand slide around the curve of her neck until his fingers rested against her nape. He tugged gently, pulling her back toward him.
And kissed her.
It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t demanding.
It was steady. Sure. A vow unspoken.
“All I care about is you,” he murmured against her lips. “I swear I’ll keep you safe—and your friend, when we find her.”
Kiki’s voice was barely a breath. “Who’s going to protect you?”
He didn’t answer with words.
He kissed her again—slower this time, softer. Then he stepped back.
“Take your shower,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I’ll be downstairs.”
He turned and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He paused in the hallway, one hand braced on the frame, and exhaled a long, unsteady breath. His body was taut with tension, every nerve keyed up and screaming for what he couldn’t have. Yet.
He snorted as he looked down. His body clearly disagreed with the decision to leave.
“Nice to know one part of me isn’t exhausted or worried about danger,” he muttered with a wry shake of his head.
The lower level of Angel’s cabin was just as beautifully crafted as the upstairs. A massive stone fireplace dominated the open-concept living room, its hearth stacked with seasoned logs. Woven rugs softened the hardwood floors, and leather couches invited visitors to collapse and forget the world.
To the left, a modern kitchen gleamed—stainless steel appliances, butcher block counters, and a walk-in pantry stocked with dry goods and whiskey bottles.
Nikos swept the rooms with the eyes of a soldier—checking window locks, scanning for motion sensors, double-checking the backup generator in the mudroom. Angel didn’t do anything halfway. The cabin was a survivalist’s paradise.
When the ground level was cleared, he headed to the basement door tucked behind the pantry shelves. The stairs creaked as he descended, cool air wrapping around him with a faint scent of wood and earth.
The basement was surprisingly expansive. Floor-to-ceiling racks lined two walls, each filled with meticulously labeled wine bottles—Angel’s personal cellar. A workbench stood in the corner, cluttered with tools, an old-fashioned vice, and a broken drone.
Nikos stepped toward the wine racks, remembering Angel’s cryptic comment: “Check out my wine collection in the basement.”
He frowned.
Angel was notorious for his cryptic messages.
He studied the racks. They were organized alphabetically—rows of Bordeaux, Cabernet, Malbec, Syrah… but one bottle sat out of place. It was a dusty bottle of Zinfandel tucked under the M’s.
Curious, Nikos pulled it out.
The label was normal, aged. But as he turned the bottle, he spotted a small round depression in the back of the bottle, precisely cut, along with a matching depression in the wood behind it.
A hidden trigger.
He slipped the bottle back in, pushed, and twisted.
Click.
The wine rack shifted.
Markos’s boots sounded on the stairs just as the shelf creaked open to reveal a thick metal door embedded in the stone wall.
Markos whistled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is next level even for Angel.”
Nikos stepped closer, inspecting the smooth black panel next to the door.
“Any idea how to open it?” Markos asked.
Nikos lifted his hand and pressed it against the panel.
A soft green light pulsed as the panel hummed.
SCAN COMPLETE. ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME NIKOS AETO.
With a soft hydraulic hiss, the door unlocked and slowly opened inward.
Both men stepped through.
Inside was a bunker-level secure room—walls lined with matte black gunmetal and soft white LEDs recessed into the ceiling. A bank of state-of-the-art monitors flickered to life across one side, displaying feeds from multiple security cameras around the property.
Opposite them, racks of tactical gear, encrypted comms, and weapons gleamed under the lights. High-powered rifles, handguns, stun batons, and surveillance drones were perfectly arranged, each with a biometric tag reader.
Tucked in the corner was an efficient kitchen. Through an open door, they could see shelves of freeze-dried meals and a water filtration system. There was another door on the other side of it.
“This isn’t a panic room,” Markos muttered. “This is a war room. I knew he’d been spending a lot of time up here the last few years, but damn!”
Nikos said nothing. He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the encrypted terminals, noting the labeled access ports and surveillance logs.
Angel had prepared for more than just intruders.
He’d prepared for a siege.