CHAPTER 7
Cole
The smell of baked cheese and garlic has my mouth watering. For a brief second, I forget that half the people gathered here tonight can kill with their bare hands and the other half can dismantle a foreign intelligence network from a laptop.
Anna stands at the head of the long farmhouse table like a general of domestic warfare, sliding a heavy ceramic dish onto a trivet.
“Don’t even think about touching it yet,” she warns Reid without looking up.
Reid, already holding a fork, lifts his hands in surrender. “I was assessing structural integrity.”
“Of the lasagna?” Josie asks dryly from the island, where she’s leaning against the counter with a glass of red wine in one hand.
“Of my patience,” he shoots back.
There’s easy laughter, more jokes and ribbing, and I take it in for a moment before moving deeper into the room.
The long table seats ten, and it’s nearly full tonight—agents who live here, others who’ve drifted in because Anna made lasagna and no one in their right mind ignores that invitation.
A few guys perch at the island with plates already loaded from a second pan resting there, while two of the younger operatives have claimed spots on the sectional couch with their food balanced on their laps, arguing over whatever is on the muted television.
Malik stands nearby with a beer in hand, his expression clearly appreciative of the family scene spread out before him.
And then I see Tessa. She’s standing with Josie, animated and intent in the way she gets when she’s dissecting information.
Her hair falls loose over one shoulder, and she also holds a glass of wine.
There’s color in her cheeks I didn’t see yesterday.
There’s life in her expression that makes my chest ache with want.
We’ve been hanging out together most of the day, first taking her to meet with her editor and gathering everything she needed from her office to work remotely for a few days.
We went to her house after and pored over more of the information from the flash drive.
I try not to dwell on how good it felt to be back in her home—the home I lived in with her for over a year before we split apart.
It certainly dredged up feelings that I’d thought were long dead and buried, plus way too many reflections on some of the best moments in my life that were spent in that house.
“Cole,” Malik calls, lifting his bottle to get my attention, and busting me right out of the memories. “You’re just in time before Reid tries to stage a coup.”
“I’m starving,” Reid mutters.
“You’re always starving,” Anna counters, sliding a spatula through the lasagna with practiced ease. “That doesn’t entitle you to the first strike.”
I lift my chin to Malik but ignore the food for now, instead moving over to Tessa and Josie, who I assume are talking shop. Instead, I walk in on a conversation about cats, which is odd. Tessa’s definitely a dog person.
“I’m telling you,” Josie says, completely serious, “cats absolutely understand English. They just choose to ignore it.”
Tessa folds her arms. “No. Dogs understand English. Cats understand contempt.”
Josie gasps. “That’s slander.”
“I’m not slandering,” Tessa insists. “I’m observing. If I call a dog, it comes. If you call a cat, it evaluates whether you’re worth the effort.”
“That’s merely discernment,” Josie argues. “We call it emotional intelligence in humans.”
“It’s narcissism,” Tessa shoots back.
I stop beside them, blinking. “We’re in the middle of dismantling a corporate arson ring,” I say slowly. “And you’re debating feline psychology?”
Tessa glances up at me, completely unbothered. “It’s important to understand your enemy.”
Josie narrows her eyes. “You’re definitely a dog person.”
“Obviously,” Tessa says. “Unconditional loyalty, tail wags and zero attitude.”
“Zero boundaries,” Josie counters.
Deep inside, it warms me to see Tessa fitting in so well with my teammates. But that’s the type of woman she is. One of the reasons she’s so good at her job and getting people to talk is because she’s so genuine and down-to-earth, you just want to be around her.
A hand clamps onto my shoulder and I turn to see Malik. “Have you met Bebe yet?” Malik asks as he gestures toward the far end of the island.
My eyes follow.
Bebe Grimshaw, Jameson’s Chief Technology Officer, stands with one of the new agents, her small frame nearly swallowed by her oversized hoodie.
Dark bluish-black hair falls in a sleek curtain around her shoulders.
Her pale eyes are sharp and assessing despite the faint smile playing at her lips, and the ink that trails up her forearms disappears beneath the sleeves like secrets she doesn’t bother to hide.
She’s visiting from the Pittsburgh office to do some upgrades on our systems.
“Not yet,” I reply.
“Bebe,” Malik calls out, waving her over to make introductions. “This is Tessa. The journalist I mentioned.”
Bebe looks to Tessa and tilts her head slightly, studying her with an intensity that would make most people uncomfortable. Tessa, to her credit, doesn’t flinch. “You’re the one poking at RainVest,” Bebe says, voice soft but edged with steel.
“I’m trying my best,” she replies.
Malik smiles faintly. “Tessa, Bebe’s the architect behind BOB.”
Tessa’s eyes widen. “You built BOB?”
“Co-built,” Bebe corrects mildly. “Dozer and I don’t argue about credit anymore.”
Josie snorts. “That’s because you win.”
A flicker of amusement crosses Bebe’s face before she turns back to Tessa. “BOB’s predictive modeling is only as good as the data we feed him. If RainVest’s financials are dirty, he’ll see it before you do.”
Tessa leans forward like she’s been handed a rare artifact. “I would love to pick your brain about that.”
Bebe’s lips curve faintly. “Everyone says that.” She then turns her attention to me. “You must be Cole Mercer. We’ve heard good things about you in Pittsburgh.”
“All cold hard truths,” I quip as we shake hands.
Tessa steps slightly in between us. “About BOB… I was reading about predictive modeling and—”
Malik interrupts. “Eat first because that lasagna is at its best when the cheese is gooey. Save the cyber-interrogation for dessert.”
We all laugh and Bebe slides away with Josie, already discussing in low tones.
Tessa watches her go with open fascination. “She seems like a really interesting woman,” she murmurs as she props an arm on the kitchen island. “What’s her story?”
Although this is the first time meeting the infamous Bebe Grimshaw, she is not unknown to me.
She’s a legend within the company. “She’s freaky smart.
Went to MIT but dropped out sophomore year because she was a struggling single mom.
Unfortunately, she got pulled into something dark and dangerous she couldn’t get out of. ”
Tessa’s brows lift. “Like what?”
“Russian syndicate,” I continue, keeping my voice low. “They coerced her into high-level hacks. She left a trail so the government would catch her before nuclear launch codes could be sold. Served seven years in prison for it.”
“Holy shit,” Tessa whispers, head swiveling to locate Bebe, who’s now sitting at the table. She turns back to me. “Seven years in prison?”
“Mostly solitary,” I add. “Kynan pulled strings because she was so brilliant, he had to have her at Jameson. He’s got some major clout because he got Bebe a presidential pardon and her record expunged.”
Tessa’s expression shifts from intrigue to awe. “That’s… extraordinary. I’d love to talk to her about it.”
“I hear she’s a pretty open book,” I say, glancing at the enigmatic woman who later married an FBI agent. He had been undercover in a sting operation against one of the Russians she betrayed who wanted her dead. “But maybe don’t go digging unless she invites it.”
Tessa glances at me, reading between the lines. “You’re protective.”
“Of my team?” I shrug. “Yeah.”
Her face softens for half a second, then she nods. “I like that.” She glances around the room, taking in the laughter and chatter. “I like that you have this.”
I know what she means. This was the missing element I never really had in my former careers.
Dinner unfolds in waves of noise and warmth after that. Anna moves around the table refilling plates whether people want it or not. Malik recounts a training mishap that has half the table laughing and Reid claims the lasagna qualifies as a controlled substance.
For a few minutes, I let myself lean into it.
This.
The noise. The food. The sense that even though our jobs revolve around violence and deception, there’s a solid foundation underneath it all.
Family, if we’re allowed to use that word.
I catch Tessa watching the room the same way I am, like she’s cataloging it for a story she’ll never write. There’s wonder in her expression, as well as caution, and that tells me she feels it too.
My phone vibrates against my thigh and I glance down at the screen.
Brady.
The warmth in my chest cools instantly. “I’ve got to take this,” I murmur to Tessa, already pushing back from the table.
She nods, distracted by whatever Bebe just said, and I step away from the noise, moving toward the hallway that leads to the apartments where the sound dampens.
I answer on the second ring. “Yeah.”
Brady doesn’t waste time. “You’re not going to like what I found.”
I called Brady this morning and filled him in on what was going on with Tessa, Erik’s murder and RainVest. Given that he’s deep undercover inside of a corrupt ring of cops, I knew he’d have his finger on the pulse of anything dirty regarding this murder.
My jaw tightens. “Lay it on me.”
“A favor got called in,” he says. “High up.”
“How high?”
“High enough that the evidence custodian didn’t ask questions. They asked to see the video of the parking garage.”
I lean against the wall, lowering my voice further. “Requested to see or be wiped?”
“Both,” Brady replies flatly.
A slow burn starts in my gut.
“Someone paid a lot of money to get that footage out of evidence,” Brady continues in a low voice. “Before they did, they wanted to know if there were any identifiable witnesses.”
The burn sharpens. “And?”
There’s a beat of silence. “They saw her,” Brady says quietly. “Saw Erik hand Tessa something. Clear enough angle to confirm it wasn’t a random interaction.”
I close my eyes for a second, internally cursing the fates. “They’ll assume she’s a reporter.”
“For sure,” he confirms. “They’re already pulling strings to identify her. It’s only a matter of time before they do.”
I force my breathing to stay even. “And where’s the video now?”
“What video?” he replies, and now I have my answer.
“Do you know who made the request?” I ask.
“No. I’m slowly gaining trust, but I’m not quite there yet. I just overheard two of the higher-ups laughing about it and didn’t want to ask too many questions.”
“Understood.” I don’t blame him at all. He’s on a mission himself and we can’t risk blowing his cover.
My gaze shifts back toward the community area. Through the open doorway I can see Tessa at the far end of the island, leaning in toward Bebe, hands moving as she fires off what I’m sure are a dozen intrusive questions. Bebe’s laughing and it’s clear she doesn’t mind engaging with Tessa’s nosiness.
Tessa looks beautifully alive. Completely unaware.
And only safe because she’s sitting in that room right now.
“You need to assume she’s a target,” Brady warns.
The word settles heavy and undeniable. “Yeah… I know. I really appreciate it, brother.”
“Absolutely. If I hear anything more, I’ll let you know.”
“Stay safe,” I reply, and then he’s gone.
For a moment I stand there staring at nothing, the noise of the dinner sounding different now—almost fragile. I push off the wall and step back into the communal area. Tessa glances up as I reenter, her expression open, curious. She smiles at me—an easy smile that tells me she trusts this room.
I know she trusts me.
Whatever we are—or aren’t anymore—doesn’t matter right now. I may not have access to her heart, but I will not let anyone erase her.
Not from a video. Not from a story. Not from this world.
As she turns back to Bebe, already deep into another question, I make a decision that settles in my bones with a clarity I haven’t felt in years.
I’m committed to bringing RainVest down, removing all threats to Tessa’s safety.
And anyone who thinks they can touch her will taste my violence.