Chapter 14
Tyson
I woke to the soft sound of Lena's voice counting under her breath. "Four, five . . . six? Seriously?" She was propped on one elbow beside me, purple hair cascading over bare shoulders, studying her phone screen with the intensity she usually reserved for tattoo designs.
The morning light filtering through her curtains caught the small bruise I'd left on her neck—evidence of last night's desperate need to mark her as mine after we'd finally said the words.
"Six different panic buttons seems excessive," she said, but she was smiling, that soft morning smile that made my chest tight. "There's one for medical emergency, one for fire, one for break-in, one for—"
"General panic?" I suggested, pulling her back against me. The app had taken me three hours to customize last night while she slept, but some things were worth losing sleep over. "It's comprehensive."
"It's paranoid." She tilted her head back to look at me. "But sweet. In a very Tyson 'I must protect everything I care about' kind of way."
"Nothing's excessive when it comes to your safety." I pressed my lips to that spot below her ear that always made her shiver. "Especially now."
The weight of our confessions hung sweet between us. Three words that changed everything. Three words that painted a target on her back the size of Texas if Cruz ever figured out what she meant to me.
"Because you love me?" she teased, but her voice wobbled on the last word, like she still couldn't quite believe it.
"Because I love you," I confirmed, tightening my arms around her.
Her fingers traced the scars on my chest, a habit she'd developed that soothed us both. "Show me what else you've done to turn my apartment into Fort Knox."
Yesterday evening, while Lena had rested, I’d installed some extra security at her place. New locks, cameras, and fresh security protocols. I explained all of it. She followed along, asking smart questions, practicing the panic sequences without complaint.
"So if I hit this combination," she demonstrated on my phone, "it sends my location to you, Wiz, and Thor simultaneously?"
"And triggers the cameras to upload to cloud storage," I confirmed. "Evidence, in case . . ."
"In case Cruz's cartel buddies decide to make good on his threats." Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor in her hands. "You really think he'd—"
"I think he's desperate and connected to dangerous people." I cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek. "I think he's obsessed with you and control. That makes him unpredictable."
She leaned into my touch. "Lucky I have an overprotective boyfriend with a military background and a motorcycle club at his back."
"Lucky," I agreed, though luck had nothing to do with it. Strategy, preparation, and the willingness to do whatever it took to keep her safe—that's what would protect her.
"What's this?" She'd wandered to the door during my mental tactical assessment, finding the small velvet box I'd left by her keys.
My stomach dropped. I'd meant to give it to her differently, with more explanation. "Open it."
Inside was a delicate silver necklace, the pendant a tiny compass rose that looked decorative but housed state-of-the-art tracking technology. Her fingers stilled on the clasp.
"Tyson . . ."
"I know it's overboard," I said quickly, moving to her side. "But with the party coming up, and Cruz making threats about the wedding—"
"I'll wear it," she interrupted, surprising me.
"You will?"
She held up the necklace, studying how the light caught the silver. "If it helps you focus on having fun instead of spending the whole party watching for threats, then yes." She turned, lifting her hair. "Put it on me?"
My hands shook slightly as I fastened the clasp. The compass rose settled perfectly in the hollow of her throat, innocuous and pretty. Nobody would guess it could broadcast her location within three feet, that it had a panic button built into the back, that it was waterproof and shockproof.
"How does it look?" She turned to face me, fingers touching the pendant.
"Beautiful," I said, but I wasn't looking at the necklace. "How'd I get so lucky?"
"Well, first I insulted your organizational system, called you a control freak, refused to follow directions—"
I kissed her to stop the litany, pouring everything I felt into the contact. When we broke apart, she was breathless and smiling.
"I love you," she whispered against my lips. "Even if you are turning me into a walking security system."
My phone buzzed before I could respond. Duke's name on the screen made my blood run cold.
Dress shopping today. It’s going to be a whole thing. Mia insists you and your 'friend' meet us there.
The quotes around 'friend' hit like a punch to the gut. I read it twice, my mind racing through possibilities. Did he know? Was he testing me? Duke didn't do anything without purpose, and those quotation marks were deliberate as a knife between the ribs.
"What's wrong?" Lena read my expression with uncanny accuracy. "You just went from happy to DefCon 2."
I showed her the text. She studied it, biting her lip. "The quotes could mean anything. Maybe Mia told him we're friends and he's just being... Duke-ish?"
"Duke doesn't do casual punctuation," I said grimly. "Everything has meaning."
"So we play it cool." She handed my phone back, already strategizing. "I'm just your friend who you happen to have to stay with at the moment. We maintain appropriate distance, don't give anything away."
"Right." I pulled her against me, needing the contact before we had to pretend. "Appropriate distance. No problem."
She laughed, but it was strained. "We're so screwed."
Looking down at her—purple hair mussed from sleep, wearing my t-shirt, tracker necklace glinting at her throat—I had to agree. Keeping my hands off her in public would be like trying not to breathe. But Duke's text was a warning shot, intentional or not.
T he boutique was pure chaos—an explosion of tulle, satin, and feminine energy that made my teeth itch.
This was not my scene.
Mia commanded the center of the storm, directing her bridesmaids with the efficiency of a general, while Lena hung back near the dressing rooms, looking amused by the whole production.
Duke and I had positioned ourselves by the entrance like the world's most overqualified bouncers, trying to look like we belonged in this world of wedding prep.
"Didn't know personal security extended to dress shopping," Duke commented casually, eyes tracking the room with the same tactical assessment I was doing. Old habits—catalog exits, identify threats, maintain strategic positioning.
"Just being thorough," I replied, trying not to watch Lena disappear behind a curtain with an armload of purple fabric. "Mia requested extra coverage for all wedding events."
"Thorough," Duke repeated, the word heavy with implication. "That what we're calling it?"
Before I could respond, Lena emerged from the dressing room, and every thought in my head evaporated.
The dress was deep purple, hitting mid-thigh, with some kind of complicated strappy situation across the back that made my mouth go dry.
She did a little spin for Mia's approval, and I had to lock my knees to stay upright.
"That's the one!" one of the other bridesmaids squealed. "You look hot!"
Hot was an understatement. The purple made her skin glow, and the cut of the dress showed off legs that had been wrapped around me just hours ago. I forced myself to look away, catching Duke watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"Definitely a contender," Lena said, studying herself in the three-way mirror. That's when the suit approached. Had to be from a different wedding party.
He was everything I wasn't—clean-cut, probably worked in one of the downtown office buildings, shoes that cost more than most people's rent. The kind of guy who saw a beautiful woman and assumed his money gave him the right to her attention.
"Excuse me, but you're absolutely stunning." His opener was as unoriginal as his tan. "Could I buy you coffee? Maybe dinner?"
My hands clenched involuntarily. Every instinct screamed to step between them, to make it crystal clear she was taken, claimed, mine. Instead, I forced myself to stay still, watching Lena's reflection in the mirror.
She glanced my way, caught my tension, and smiled—that secret smile that made my chest tight. "That's kind, but I'm taken."
"Lucky guy," the suit said, though he didn't retreat immediately. "He must be something special to land someone like you."
"He is," Lena said simply, and even though she was looking at the suit, I felt her words hit me center mass. "Very special."
The suit finally got the message and wandered off, probably to bother some other bridesmaids. Duke made a low sound beside me.
"Very lucky," he murmured, voice pitched for my ears only. "Whoever he is."
I kept my expression neutral through sheer force of will. "Good for her. Nice to see the shop employees finding happiness."
Duke's snort said he wasn't buying it, but Mia called for the next dress before he could probe further. This time Lena emerged in something backless—completely, devastatingly backless—in a deeper purple that made her tattoos pop against her skin.
The reaction was immediate. Two guys who'd been shopping with their girlfriends suddenly needed to be in our corner of the store. One actually whistled, low and appreciative, and I took an involuntary step forward.
"Steady," Duke warned quietly, his hand landing on my shoulder. Not restraining, just reminding. "Can't punch civilians for appreciating art."
"Watch me," I growled, tracking the whistler as he circled for a better view.
"That would be bad for business," Duke continued conversationally. "Thor would be pissed if we got banned from the boutique before his wedding. Mia would be worse."