Chapter 5
five
The last thing Elliot wanted to do after three hours of playing fiancé to Rue Bristow was interrupt his brother’s evening, but work came first.
Always.
Instead of going up to his apartment on the second floor of his family’s brownstone, he stopped and knocked on Davey’s door. He was greeted by a growled, “This better be fucking important, El!”
“How do you know it’s me?”
There was some shuffling, then the door opened. Davey stood there, shirtless and scowling like he wanted to throw something at Elliot’s head. “Because Dom doesn’t work after midnight.”
“Dom doesn’t work, period.”
Rowan sat on the leather couch, her dark hair mussed and cheeks flushed, a blanket wrapped around her obviously naked body.
“Hey, Ro. Sorry to interrupt,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” Davey muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”
Okay, if he were honest, it probably could’ve.
They weren’t leaving for Antarctica for a few more days, and it wasn’t like he or Davey could do anything about his growing suspicions tonight.
But Rue had been weirdly silent on the ride back to her hotel, which left him amped up and jittery like he’d downed one of her energy drinks. He needed to talk it out with someone.
And that someone was always his older brother.
Davey sighed and opened the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. “Seriously, El. I don’t say this often, but Dom’s right. You need a life beyond work.”
The same could’ve been said about Davey a few months ago, but Elliot didn’t point that out. Instead, he knelt to give Davey’s dog, Luka, some ear scratches.
“Oh, leave him alone, Davey. We were done anyway.” Rowan stood and scooped up her discarded clothes. “Is this about Rue?”
He nodded. “She was right to call me.”
Rowan swore softly. “Of course she’s gotten herself into trouble again. God, Dad’s going to flip. Okay,” she said on a heavy exhale. “Let me get dressed and we’ll talk.”
Davey’s hand lightly brushed her back as she passed, and his gaze softened in a way Elliot had never seen before Rowan came into his brother’s life.
It was the same adoring way, he realized, that their dad often looked at their mom.
Elliot looked away. Not because he was uncomfortable with the affection or casual intimacy, but because he didn’t like the sudden, sharp stab of jealousy.
Of his brothers, he’d been the only one who wanted to find what their parents had.
He’d always picture himself married by the time he was thirty, with a couple of kids and a dog—not Davey, who had been married to his SEAL team, or Dom, who loved the playboy lifestyle too much to settle down.
But here he was, days from his thirtieth birthday, with nothing but work and an empty apartment waiting for him when he got home.
Rowan disappeared into the second bathroom at the back of the apartment, and Davey grabbed his shirt from a chair, pulling it over his head. He headed toward the kitchen. “Drink?”
Elliot followed him. “Yeah, I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
Davey’s two-story apartment mirrored Elliot’s upstairs—same high ceilings, same exposed brick, same long windows looking out at the quiet Brooklyn street.
But where Elliot’s place had always been spare and orderly, Davey’s had been almost austere, a bare-bones crash pad that spoke more of discipline than comfort.
Now it felt lived in. A knit throw draped over the back of the couch, a stack of well-worn novels on the end table, a potted plant somehow thriving on the windowsill.
All Rowan’s touches, softening the hard edges Davey had never bothered to hide.
Upstairs, his own place still felt like a staging area, not a home.
Davey took a beer from the fridge, popped the top with an opener, and passed it over the island. Elliot took it gratefully. The cold bottle felt good against his palm, grounding him after the surreal experience of playing Rue’s devoted fiancé all evening.
“So what happened?” Davey asked, leaning against the counter.
Elliot took a long pull from the bottle before answering. “Frost’s party was crawling with Praetorian.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be without confirmation.”
Davey’s expression hardened. “So that bastard’s still playing both sides.”
“I don’t think he knows any other way.” Elliot ran a hand through his hair, still stiff with product from the party. “There’s a geologist who moves like he’s done multiple tours in special forces.”
“Name?”
“Dr. Noah Braddock.”
Davey nodded. “I’ll have Daphne run him through the system tomorrow.”
Rowan returned from the bathroom, now dressed in what appeared to be one of Davey’s t-shirts and a pair of leggings. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, all traces of their interrupted activities erased.
“What else?” she asked, perching on the arm of the couch.
“The investors were asking pointed questions about security protocols, communication capabilities, and the isolation of the expedition.” Elliot took another swig of his beer. “One of them, Camille Middleton, admitted to having a file on Rue. She wasn’t thrilled when she found out who I was.”
“She recognized the Wilde name?” Davey’s eyes narrowed.
“Immediately. And she didn’t like it.”
Rowan crossed her arms. “Of course she didn’t. You’re a complication they weren’t expecting.”
Elliot hesitated, then added quietly, “There’s something else. I can’t shake the feeling Rue isn’t telling me everything she knows about this expedition.”
Davey’s brows lifted. “You think she’s holding back intel?”
“Not intel, exactly. Just… something. She went silent on the ride back.”
Rowan hissed out a breath. “And for Rue, that’s never a good sign. I can try talking to her?—”
“No.” When both Davey and Rowan looked at him, he realized the protest had come out too forcefully. Elliot took a breath. “I’ll handle it. I’m going with her, and I’ll figure out what she’s hiding.”
Rowan studied him, her expression unreadable. “You’re sure? Because if my sister’s involved in something dangerous?—”
“She called me, Ro. She wants me there.”
“That doesn’t mean she’ll tell you everything,” Rowan pointed out. “Rue’s selective with her truth, especially when she thinks she’s protecting someone.”
Elliot couldn’t argue with that. Rue had always been good at telling just enough of the truth to sound honest while holding back the parts she didn’t want you to know. It was one of the things that made her both infuriating and impressive.
“I’ve got Griffin on standby in Chile,” he said, changing subjects. “If things go sideways, he’ll be ready to pull us out.”
“Good call,” Davey said, and Elliot felt a small surge of satisfaction at the approval.
He’d spent his whole life trying to impress his older brother—at first by tagging along on every childhood adventure, then by chasing his example into the military.
But Elliot quickly realized he wasn’t built for the SEALs, and spent his military career in Naval Intelligence, where he learned to see patterns others missed, before landing as a logistics coordinator in the family business.
Davey had always been larger-than-life, the kind of brother who dove headfirst into the fire while Elliot stayed back, making sure there was a way out.
Different approaches, same goal. But no matter how many missions Elliot planned to the last detail, no matter how many times he was proven right, a part of him still felt like the kid trailing in Davey’s shadow, waiting for a nod that he’d done well.
“What about Frost?” Davey asked, drawing his attention back to the conversation. “Was he there?”
Man, he must be tired. He was usually more focused than this. He took a long drink of his beer before answering. “Playing host. He’s definitely involved in whatever this is, but he’s keeping his distance. Making sure his hands stay clean.”
“Typical.” Rowan’s voice was tight with disgust. “And my sister is right in the middle of it.”
“She’s safe for now,” Elliot assured, though the words felt hollow even to him. “They need her to get them there.”
“And after that?” Rowan’s question hung in the air for several heavy seconds.
Elliot didn’t have an answer for her. Once they reached Antarctica, Rue’s usefulness would be limited to her ability to get them back out again. If Praetorian found what they were looking for, they wouldn’t want witnesses.
“It gets worse,” Elliot said after a moment. “One of the scientists on the team is Dr. Irina Volkova.“
Davey frowned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
Rowan went still. “Dad’s team took down a group of mercenaries run by a man named Evgeny Volkov... God, thirty-some years ago now. I was a baby at the time, but I’ve heard the stories. Do you think they’re related?”
“Volkov’s a common enough Russian name,” Elliot pointed out, but the uneasiness in his gut suggested otherwise. Coincidences weren’t something he believed in, not in their line of work.
“I’ll check with Dad,” Rowan said, already reaching for her phone. “He might remember more details.”
Davey moved to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders, rubbing gently. The casual touch spoke volumes about how far they’d come in their relationship. “It can wait until tomorrow, Hellcat. He’s probably in bed.”
Rowan scowled up at him, but then glanced at the large vintage clock hanging on the living room wall, loudly ticking away the seconds, and her scowl faded. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t want to wake him. Mom says he pushes too hard and pays for it after.”
Last summer, Gabe Bristow had finally had the leg amputated below the knee to deal with an old injury that had dogged him for decades.
He was up and moving on the prosthetic now, stubborn as ever, but even Elliot could tell recovery had been harder on him than he let on.
Rue had acted like it was all no big deal, teasing her dad about his “robot leg” and how he could now smuggle weapons in his artificial calf.
She even offered to get him one with flamethrowers built in.
But Elliot had seen the worry in her eyes when she thought no one was looking, the same worry now etched on Rowan’s face.
“What’s your read on Rue’s safety?” she asked. “I’m worried she’s not taking this seriously enough.”
“She’s not in immediate danger,” Elliot said, trying to keep his voice neutral despite the worry gnawing at him. “She’s taking it seriously, but you know how she is—always thinks she can handle anything thrown her way.”
“That’s Rue,” Rowan agreed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation in her voice. “Mom says she was climbing out of her crib before she could walk. Always looking for the next adventure.”
“This isn’t an adventure,” Elliot muttered. “It’s a Praetorian operation disguised as a scientific expedition.”
“Then you watch her,” Davey said in the authoritative tone he used when issuing orders. “Every minute. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“That was already the plan,” Elliot snapped before he caught himself.
A knowing look flashed in Davey’s eyes, and he wanted to squirm. His brother had always been too perceptive when it came to things Elliot would rather keep hidden.
“I’m sure it was,” Davey said dryly.
Elliot ignored him. “I’ll keep her safe, Ro. I promise.”
Rowan’s expression softened. “I know you will. But who’s going to keep you safe from her ?”
Now that was the prize-winning question, wasn’t it?
“I can handle her.” He finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the counter, already mentally cataloging what equipment he needed to prepare.
The standard WSW field kit wouldn’t be enough for Antarctica—he’d need specialized gear for the extreme cold, backup communications that wouldn’t be monitored by Praetorian, and weapons that wouldn’t be detected during the inevitable security screening.
“I should head up. I have a lot to do still.”
“El,” Davey called as he headed for the door. “Be careful out there. Not just with Praetorian.”
The warning was clear. Be careful with Rue. Don’t get too attached. Don’t let your feelings compromise the mission.
Too late for that, Elliot thought, but he just nodded. “Always am.”
As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, the weight of what lay ahead settled more firmly on his shoulders. Antarctica. Praetorian. Rue. Three variables that could each be deadly on their own. Combined, they were a powder keg waiting for a spark.
And he’d just volunteered to stand in the middle of it all with a match.