Chapter 11
ELEVEN
BANKS
The first thing I notice when I wake up is her.
Anniston’s curled tight against my chest, one smooth leg thrown over mine, her blonde hair spilling across the pillow like warm sunlight.
Her breathing is slow and even, her body soft and completely naked under the sheet.
My arm is wrapped around her waist like I claimed her in my sleep.
Maybe I did. Her skin is warm against mine, and every time she shifts even a little I feel it everywhere.
I don’t do this. I’ve never fucking done this.
One-night stands? Sure. Quick, clean releases with women who know the rules and don’t expect more. But waking up tangled with someone, feeling this heavy pull in my chest like I want to keep her here forever? Never. Not once. Until Anniston.
Last night keeps replaying in my head on a loop, every detail sharp and vivid.
The way she moaned my name when I was buried deep inside her.
The way she came apart on my tongue and then again around my cock, clenching so tight I almost lost it right then.
The soft, satisfied sigh she made when I pulled her against me afterward and held her until we both drifted off.
I should regret crossing that line. I should be pissed at myself for letting things go that far.
Instead all I feel is a possessive satisfaction that scares the hell out of me.
I want to keep her.
The thought hits me hard and I tense, jaw clenching.
I can’t afford feelings right now. The people hunting Anniston are dangerous and connected to something much bigger than either of us.
Getting attached is how people get killed.
I need to stay sharp today. Focused. I’m not some lovesick idiot who can’t keep his hands off the woman he’s supposed to guard.
Anniston stirs against me, nuzzling closer. Her lips brush my collarbone and my body reacts instantly, cock hardening against her thigh. She makes a sleepy little sound that goes straight to my groin and makes me grit my teeth.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky and sweet.
"Morning." I keep my tone even, but my hand slides down her bare back of its own accord, cupping the curve of her ass before I can stop myself. "We should get up. Long day ahead."
She tilts her head back and smiles at me, those green eyes bright and a little shy in the morning light filtering through the window. "Or we could stay here a few more minutes. You feel really good in the morning, Banks."
Fuck. That smile is dangerous. It does things to me I have no business feeling. I kiss her anyway, slow and deep, savoring the way she melts against me like she belongs there. For one selfish moment I let myself pretend this is normal. That she’s mine and the world outside this cabin doesn’t exist.
Then reality crashes back in, cold and heavy. I pull away and sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “We’re heading into Halo City today. Wyatt Rivers. I need my head on straight."
Anniston sits up behind me, the sheet pooling around her waist. Her breasts are right there, perfect and still faintly marked from my mouth last night. I force my eyes to the floor and stand up, pulling on my jeans fast.
"I know," she says softly. "But last night was incredible. You don't regret it, do you?"
I turn and look at her fully. She’s watching me with those wide green eyes, vulnerable in a way that tugs at something deep in my chest. "No," I say honestly, voice rough. "I don't regret it. But it can't happen again."
She nods like she knows exactly how badly I still want her. "Fair enough. I’m sorry."
Now I feel bad. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” I want to tell her I wish things were different. That we weren’t in a life and death situation. That maybe if things were over we could start something real. But how can I? I need to find my father.
Instead, I shake my head and head down the hallway to make coffee, needing distance before I climb back into that bed and forget every rule I have.
She joins me a few minutes later wearing one of my black t-shirts that hits her mid-thigh.
The sight of her in my clothes does something primal to me.
I want to bend her over the kitchen table and remind her exactly who made her come three times last night.
Instead I hand her a mug of coffee and focus on the plan.
"We leave in thirty," I tell her, voice gruff. "You stay in the truck when we get there. I approach the apartment alone first. If it feels off, we leave immediately. No arguments."
"Yes, sir," she says with a mock salute, but her eyes are serious. "I trust you."
Those three words hit harder than they should. I turn away before she can see how much they affect me.
We eat a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast at the small table.
Anniston keeps stealing glances at me over her mug, her foot brushing mine under the table like she can’t help touching me.
I don’t stop her. The drive down the mountain is quiet at first, but every so often she reaches over and squeezes my thigh.
Her touch is light and warm and it takes everything in me not to pull the truck over and drag her into my lap.
Halo City looks the same as always when we hit the outskirts.
Glass towers gleaming under the bright morning sun, traffic humming along the streets, people moving like nothing dark is happening beneath the surface.
I take back roads and side streets, avoiding main arteries, eyes constantly scanning the mirrors for tails.
Anniston is quiet beside me, but I can feel her watching me.
"You okay?" she asks after a while.
"Fine," I mutter. "Just focused."
She smiles softly. "You get all broody when you're thinking about the mission. It's kind of hot."
I grip the wheel tighter. "Not helping, Anniston."
She laughs lightly but drops it. “ Sorry.”
I give her a soft smile. My head needs to be clear when we reach Wyatt Rivers' building.
He lives in a mid-rise apartment complex on the east side of the financial district. Not luxury, but decent enough for a guy who just got a fat payout. I park two blocks away in a shadowed spot with good sight lines to the entrance and multiple exit routes.
"Stay here," I tell Anniston, handing her a spare burner phone. "Lock the doors. If anything looks wrong, drive straight back to the cabin and call Mack. Don’t wait for me."
She grabs my hand before I can get out, her fingers warm and steady. "Be careful. Please."
I nod once and head toward the building, keeping my stride casual but alert.
The lobby is quiet, just a bored security guard scrolling on his phone.
I bypass the elevator and take the stairs to the fourth floor.
Apartment 412. I listen at the door for thirty seconds. No movement inside. I knock firmly.
No answer.
I knock again, louder. "Wyatt Rivers? Need to talk to you about Meridian Financial."
Still nothing. I test the knob. Locked. A quick glance up and down the hall shows no cameras. I pull out my lock kit and have the door open in under twenty seconds.
The apartment is small and messy. Takeout containers litter the coffee table. A laptop sits closed on the couch. A half-packed duffel bag rests by the door like he was thinking about running. I move through the space quickly and quietly, checking every room. Empty.
In the kitchen drawer I find a stack of papers.
Bank statements. The large deposit is right there, dated two days after his termination.
Notes scribbled in the margins reference the D.C.
consultancy. Names I recognize from Anniston's files.
This guy knows something. I take photos with my phone and slip the most important pages into my jacket.
Then I spot another name scrawled on a piece of paper: Billy Hawthorne.
My father.
I grab the paper and slip it into my jacket.
As I head back toward the front door, I hear footsteps in the hall. Heavy. Two sets. I press myself against the wall beside the door and wait.
The knob turns. Someone’s coming in.
I wait until the first man steps inside, then I move. My forearm locks around his throat, yanking him back hard. He makes a choked sound. His partner spins, reaching for a weapon. I kick the door shut and drive my knee into the first guy's ribs, dropping him to the floor.
The second man pulls a knife. Amateur move. I disarm him in two swift motions, slamming him face-first into the wall. "Who sent you?" I growl.
Neither answers. I zip-tie their wrists tight and pat them down. Burner phones. No IDs. Classic hired muscle.
I call Mack while I secure them better. "Got company at Rivers' place. Two guys. They knew I was coming. Rivers’s gone. Place looks like he left in a hurry."
"Shit," Mack says. "Get out of there. Vance is pulling more on Rivers now. He might be on the run too. Local PD is headed there now."
I hang up and head back to the truck at a fast walk, scanning every shadow. Anniston is sitting exactly where I left her, eyes wide with relief when she sees me.
"You're okay," she breathes as I slide into the driver's seat.
"Yeah. But Rivers is gone. Someone beat us here." I start the engine and pull out, eyes on the mirrors the whole time. "We’re not staying in the city. Too hot."
She reaches over and squeezes my thigh again. "What now?"
I cover her hand with mine for a second, letting myself feel the warmth of her skin. "Now we go back to the cabin. Regroup. Figure out our next move."