Chapter 11
ELEVEN
SIN
Three days in a safe house turns into its own kind of world.
Time stops behaving like it does everywhere else.
Mornings are coffee, protein, and drills.
Afternoons are more drills, then quiet stretches where Rowan tries to act like she isn’t counting the minutes between updates from Cal.
Nights are the hardest. Not because the house is unsafe. Because she’s in it with me.
We crossed a line the first time we kissed. We crossed another the first night I didn’t leave her bed. I tell myself it was inevitable. Two people under pressure. Fear and adrenaline. Proximity. Heat. That’s what I tell myself because it’s cleaner than the truth.
The truth is I wanted her long before I touched her. Now I know exactly what she tastes like. I know the sound she makes when she forgets to be brave for a second. I know how she fits against me like she was built for my arms.
And I know I should want to run.
Instead, I’m sitting with her on the couch in the dim glow of a lamp, a quiet evening wrapped around us like a blanket.
The house smells like the simple dinner we ate an hour ago and the faint citrus of the cleaner I used on the counters afterward.
Outside, the trees stand black against a darkening sky.
Crickets sing. The world keeps moving even when we don’t.
Rowan is curled against my side, bare feet tucked under her, hair down tonight. Long brown waves spilling over her shoulder. She’s wearing one of my shirts again. It hangs off her like a claim I haven’t earned.
She’s reading a book, pretending she’s calm. Her mouth keeps twitching like a joke is brewing behind her lips.
I’m pretending I’m calm too. My hand rests on her thigh, casual. Protective. Possessive, if I’m honest.
Rowan glances up at me. “You’re brooding.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s still brooding.”
I almost smile. Almost. Then my phone rings. The sound snaps through the room like a warning shot. Rowan stiffens instantly, her body going alert even before her brain catches up. That’s the training. She learns fast. I check the screen.
Cal.
I answer on the first ring. “What’s up?”
Cal’s voice is clipped, urgent. “Sin. We’ve got movement. Real movement.”
My spine tightens. “Talk.”
“We traced the management profile on Rowan’s phone,” he says. “Not just where it came from. Who initiated the chain.”
Rowan’s eyes lock on my face. She can’t hear him, but she can read the shift in me like she’s been studying my tells.
Cal continues. “The profile was pushed through an internal system tied to her paper. It wasn’t random spyware. It was targeted. Someone with access to their network and credentials sent a link disguised as a security update. It got her to authorize the profile without realizing what it was.”
My jaw clenches. “You’re saying it came from inside her workplace.”
“Yes.” Cal pauses. “And we have the name.”
My pulse hits hard once. “Who?”
“It’s her editor in chief,” Cal says. “Her boss. Randy O’Connell.”
Rowan’s hand grips my forearm. “What?” she mouths silently, eyes wide.
I stand slowly, moving away from her so I can think. “You’re sure.”
“We didn’t stop at the phone,” Cal says. “We followed the money trail from the profile vendor. The billing account routes through a shell company, but we peeled it back. Payments are coming from a corporate security contractor tied to the company Rowan was investigating.”
My stomach goes cold. “They’re funding the attacks.”
“They’re funding the pressure,” Cal corrects.
“Here’s what we have so far. Rowan’s boss is being blackmailed.
Not a theory. We have recorded calls and a series of transfers.
They’re squeezing him through leverage. A past mistake, something that would end his career and possibly put him in prison.
The corporation promised to make it disappear if he stopped her story and got control of her materials. ”
I stare at the far wall, mind already assembling the pieces. “So he put her under surveillance.”
“Yes,” Cal says. “He used the phone to track her, see what she had, who she talked to, and when. And when that didn’t work fast enough, they escalated to intimidation. The vehicle hits. The attempted entry. All meant to scare her off and force her to hand over her files.”
Rowan stands now, close enough to touch, but she doesn’t. Her face is pale, her eyes huge and furious.
Cal’s tone stays firm. “Tell Rowan. But listen to me. You and Rowan stay put. Do not go hunting. We have a team moving to confirm his location and secure evidence. Law enforcement involvement will be controlled. We don’t want leaks.”
I nod, even though he can’t see it. “Copy.”
“And Sin,” Cal adds, voice harder. “This guy is desperate. Blackmail makes people unpredictable. If he realizes the net is closing, he might do something stupid.”
My gaze cuts to Rowan. “Understood.”
“We’ll keep you updated,” Cal says. “Stay dark.”
The line goes dead. I lower the phone slowly.
Rowan looks like she’s bracing for impact. “Sin,” she says, voice tight. “What is it?”
I exhale once, controlled, then meet her gaze. “Cal’s team traced the spyware on your phone.”
Rowan’s eyes flash. “Okay. And?”
“It was pushed through your paper’s internal system,” I say. “Not some random hacker.”
Her brows knit. “So it was…”
“It was someone with access,” I finish.
She steps closer, a thin line of anger forming between her brows. “Who?”
I hold her gaze because I’m not going to soften this for her. “Randy O’Connell.”
Rowan goes still, like her body doesn’t understand the words. Then she laughs once, sharp and disbelieving. “No.”
“Rowan.”
“No,” she repeats, louder. “That’s insane.
He’s… he’s the reason I got my first big byline.
He’s the reason I’m even on that investigative desk.
” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she hates that it does.
I see it. She swallows hard, forcing herself back into control.
“He’s always backed me,” she insists, eyes bright with anger and something that looks like grief. “He’s always told me to dig deeper.”
“He did,” I say. “Until this story.”
Rowan shakes her head. “He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t try to scare me.”
“He didn’t do it because he hates you,” I say quietly. “He did it because someone has him by the throat.”
Rowan’s breathing turns shallow. “What do you mean?”
I keep my voice steady. “He’s being blackmailed by the corporation you’re investigating. Cal has proof. Calls. Payments. A leverage file. They threatened to ruin him unless he stopped the story and got control of your work.”
Rowan’s lips part. She looks like she might be sick. “So he…” She swallows. “He watched me. He tracked me.”
“Yes.”
“And the car?” Her eyes snap to mine. “The car was him?”
“Not his hands,” I say. “But his decision. He helped them find you. Helped them time it. Cal believes they used a corporate security contractor to handle the intimidation.”
Rowan’s face changes. Shock burning down into rage. “And all this time,” she whispers, “I was worried about leaks in the police. About some random thug.”
I step closer. “The threat was in your office.”
Rowan squeezes her eyes shut for a second, then opens them. “I admired him.”
“I know.”
She looks up at me, and her voice goes small, almost raw. “How do you even recover from that?”
“You don’t recover,” I say. “You adapt. You protect yourself. You make sure he can’t do it again.”
Rowan’s jaw sets. “I want to go back. I want to confront him.”
I catch her wrist gently, grounding her without restraining. “No.”
Her eyes blaze. “Sin.”
“Cal said stay put,” I tell her. “They have a team moving. If you run back in hot, you give him warning and you put yourself in reach.”
Rowan’s chest rises and falls fast. She looks like she wants to fight me. Then she sees my face. I’m not fighting her to control her. I’m fighting her to keep her alive.
Her shoulders sag a fraction. “I hate this.”
“I know,” I say.
She pulls her wrist free slowly, not yanking, and paces two steps before stopping. Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “Blackmail,” she says, spitting the word like poison. “So the corporation is that scared.”
“They should be,” I say. “Your story is real. And it hurts them.”
Rowan turns back to me. “What happens now?”
“Cal’s team gathers evidence,” I say. “They secure your boss, secure the leverage file, and build a clean case. Then we decide what gets published and when.”
Rowan’s eyes sharpen. “We publish.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But we do it smart. Not emotional.”
She exhales hard, then nods once. “Fine. Smart.”
I pick up my phone again. “I need to call Nash. Update him. If this isn’t tied to our family case, it matters. It changes how we move.”
Rowan watches me, still pale, but steadier now. “Tell him to be careful.”
“I will.”
I step toward the kitchen for a bit of quiet and dial.
Nash answers immediately. “Sin.”
“We got confirmation on Rowan’s case,” I say. “It’s not random. It’s her workplace.”
Nash’s voice sharpens. “Inside job.”
“Yes. Editor in chief. He pushed spyware to her phone through internal systems. He’s being blackmailed by the corporation she’s investigating. Corporate security contractor handled intimidation.”
There’s a pause on the line, then Nash exhales. “That’s dirty.”
“Blackmail makes people stupid,” I say.
“It does. So, we’re moving on a lead tomorrow morning,” Nash tells me. “The Charleston box turned into a name. Not Dad yet, but someone tied to Shaw’s old network. A Laurel Pike. Some sheriff out west. We’re going early.”
My gut tightens. “Be careful.”
Nash gives a low grunt. “Always.”
“Don’t underestimate them,” I say. “If Shaw’s involved, this isn’t some sloppy op.”
“I know,” Nash says. “You holding up.”
I glance back into the living room. Rowan stands by the couch, arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing.
She looks furious and wounded at the same time.
Like betrayal has teeth. And she looks so damn brave it hurts.
“I’m good,” I tell Nash, because the alternative is admitting I’m not sure how to keep her safe from a man she trusted.
“I’ll keep you posted if anything changes. ”
“Copy,” Nash says. “And Sin.”
“What?”
“Stay on mission,” he says, and I can hear the meaning behind it.
Don’t fall.
Don’t get distracted.
Don’t let her become your weakness.
I swallow once. “Always.”
I end the call and stand there for a moment, phone still in my hand, staring at the quiet kitchen. The safe house hums softly around me. The night outside is calm, which feels like a lie. When I walk back into the living room, Rowan looks up. Her eyes are glossy, but her chin is lifted.
“Are we really staying put?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say.
She lets out a breath that shakes once, then steadies. “Okay.”
I step closer. “We’re going to get justice for this. But we’re not doing it by handing ourselves to him.”
Rowan nods, jaw tight. “I want to write it all. Every detail. I want to burn him down with ink.”
My mouth tightens. “You will. When it’s safe.”
She looks at me, and there’s a flash of something vulnerable. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not,” I say, firmly.
“I trusted him.”
“You trusted someone who built a career on appearing trustworthy,” I say. “That doesn’t make you stupid. It makes him dangerous.”
Rowan’s throat moves. “And now what?”
Now the hard part, I think. Now we wait, again, except this time the monster has a face she knows. I reach for her hand, slow, giving her the choice. She takes it, fingers gripping mine like she needs something solid. “We hold,” I say. “We let Cal close the trap. And we stay alive.”
Rowan nods once, eyes burning. “Okay.”
We stand there in the quiet, hands locked, both of us aware that everything just changed. The threat isn’t a shadow anymore. It’s someone she admired. And if he was willing to sell her out to save himself, then he’s going to be willing to do worse when he realizes he’s cornered.