Shadow Target (Shadow Point Security Romantic Suspense #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The hallway outside Rob Thorne’s study was too quiet.

Mack Callan stood with his back against the mahogany-paneled wall, phone in hand, eyes tracking the corridor’s sight lines. To anyone passing by, he looked like another security contractor checking messages. Unremarkable—exactly what he needed to be.

The earpiece tucked against his ear told a different story.

“—Montana routes are lucrative, but we need assurances.” Mateo Vega’s voice came through clear, courtesy of the FBI’s undercover agent wired for sound inside the study. “My organization has invested considerable resources in establishing distribution networks.”

“Your networks.” Rafael Guerrero’s tone carried an edge. “The Gulf operates independently. We’re proposing a partnership, not a merger.”

Mack’s jaw tightened. Two cartels were negotiating territory in Rob Thorne’s private study while two hundred guests sipped champagne twenty yards away. The old Marine had no idea his annual charity gala was providing cover for a drug trafficking summit.

“Gentlemen.” A third voice cut through the tension. “Security is airtight. We can speak freely.”

Mack’s blood went cold. Blake Bennett.

Mack’s hand moved instinctively toward the Sig Sauer concealed beneath his suit jacket before training reasserted itself.

He kept his breathing steady and his body still.

It had been two years and three months since he’d been forced out of his unit.

Since Blake had blamed him for a disaster of Blake’s own making.

And now his former spotter was in that room, not as a prisoner or informant, but as part of one of the cartels.

“Hawk.” The FBI handler’s voice crackled in his other ear. Claire Dawson was hidden in the house’s east wing. Mack had worked an op protecting Claire nearly a year ago when a serial killer had come after her. “Did you copy that? Blake Bennett, Thorne’s distribution manager, is inside.”

Mack subvocalized, barely moving his lips. “Copy.”

“Did you know he was involved?”

Of course not. Up until a few days ago, when Claire gave him a list of party guests, he hadn’t even realized Bennett was one of Thorne’s employees. “Negative.”

“All right, stay in position. Our UC is getting good intel. Do not engage.”

Mack’s fingers drummed once against his thigh—the only outward sign of the fury coiling in his chest. Blake hadn’t just fallen far—if he was working with one of the cartels under the guise of one of Thorne’s security folks, he’d crashed through the bottom and kept digging.

Through the ornate window at the corridor’s end, snow fell in thick curtains, already accumulating on the mansion’s grounds.

Montana in November. He’d been here just over a year, working for Shadow Point Security.

This job was an expansion of their usual missions, taking on FBI contract work due to Claire.

He’d never expected his past to catch up with him, especially not like this.

“The product moves through established channels,” Vega continued. “What we need from you is—”

Movement at the far end of the hallway yanked Mack’s attention from the audio feed.

A blonde in a burgundy dress, carrying a matching purse, opened doors one by one, leaned in, then moved to the next with an exasperated expression.

Another lost guest looking for the bathroom. Standard wandering civilian at a party this size.

Mack kept an eye on her. She definitely didn’t want to be near the negotiations going on inside that room. She moved to the next door, opened it, and peered in. She swore softly under her breath and moved on.

Getting closer.

Closer to the study door.

Mack pushed off the wall, starting toward her.

She shifted, and the breath stopped in Mack’s lungs. The floor fell out from beneath him. He froze, his mind going back…

Two years of silence, of distance, of trying to forget the woman who’d chosen her lying brother over him. She’d called off their wedding with tears streaming down her face and walked away.

Alyssa. Here at this party. Walking straight toward danger.

She reached for the study door handle.

“Wait—” Mack’s voice came out louder than he intended, but she didn’t hear him. The door was already opening.

In his earpiece, chaos erupted. Chair legs scraped. There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh!” Her voice carried down the hallway. “I’m so sorry, I was looking for the restroom.”

“Who are you?” Vega’s voice was cold and sharp as a blade. “Who let you back here?”

“Bennett, you said security was locked down,” Guerrero said angrily.

“I don’t know who she is—” Blake’s voice, and even through the audio feed, Mack could hear the panic barely controlled. Liar. He knew exactly who she was.

An enforcer’s voice came next, heavy and flat. “Boss, want me to grab her?”

“Si. Find out who sent her.”

Alyssa’s voice again as she began backing away. “Sorry, wrong door! I’ll just—”

She slammed the door, the echo slicing through the hallway. He saw her turn, walking fast.

He was already moving, crossing the carpet in long strides from his hiding place. Claire spoke in his comm. “What’s happening?”

Alyssa was hurrying down the hallway, face pale, eyes wide and locked over her shoulder on the study door behind her like she was trying to process what she'd just seen. She hadn't noticed him yet.

The door flew open. Mack yanked out his comm and shoved it in his pocket. The enforcer emerged. Six-two, two-twenty, neck tattoos creeping above his collar. Dead eyes that locked onto Alyssa’s retreating form. “Hey! Stop!”

Alyssa’s step quickened. Not running yet, but close.

The enforcer’s hand moved inside his jacket.

Fighting here would blow everything. Mack needed a different play.

There was no time for subtlety. He lunged forward and caught Alyssa around the waist, pulling her back against his chest. She gasped, her body going rigid. “What the—?”

He pitched his voice loud enough for the enforcer to hear, gentle enough that it might actually calm her. “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you.”

He felt the exact moment recognition hit—the way her breath caught, the way her body tensed even more.

The enforcer stopped three feet away, eyes narrowing. “Who the hell are you?”

“Her boyfriend.” Mack turned Alyssa to face him, needing to sell this, needing the enforcer to see a couple, not a threat. “She got turned around looking for the bathroom, didn’t you, babe?”

Her eyes met his, shocked and confused. Those green eyes he’d once known better than his own now stared at him like he was a ghost.

Or her worst nightmare.

Trust me, he tried to say with his gaze. Just this once, play along.

The enforcer still had his hand inside his jacket, his voice thick with his accent. “My boss wants to talk to her. You’d better come, too.”

Mack kept one arm around Alyssa’s waist, pulling her closer, and pressed his lips to her temple. The scent of her shampoo hit him like a physical blow—vanilla and something floral, exactly the same after two years. His chest tightened.

“You scared me, Lyss.” The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. “I thought I lost you in this crowd.”

He felt her tremble. Fear or shock or recognition, he couldn’t tell. Maybe all three.

He shifted his position slightly to put himself in front of Alyssa, his free hand loose at his side—ready to draw if this went sideways. “She didn’t see anything,” he said in a steady voice. “Right, babe?”

Alyssa stuttered. “Um…yeah.”

The enforcer narrowed his eyes at Mack, sizing him up. “She walked into a private meeting.”

“And walked right back out.” Mack kept his voice reasonable, but his body language said something else entirely. Try to take her and find out what happens.

“I’m just an artist hired to sketch portraits for the party,” she said. “You can ask Rob. I needed a break but got lost in this big place.”

“Simple mistake,” Mack said.

“Let them go,” a familiar voice said from down the hall.

Mack’s gaze snapped to the study doorway. Blake Bennett stood there, perfectly still, his expression controlled in a way that made Mack’s instincts scream danger.

Their eyes locked.

Two years. Two years since Blake’s lies had cost a Marine his life and nearly destroyed Mack’s career. Two years since Alyssa had chosen her brother’s version of events over the truth.

And now Blake was walking slowly toward him, working with cartels, and his sister had just stumbled into their illegal operation.

Alyssa tensed. “Bla—?”

“We’re on our way out,” Mack cut her off. “Just leaving before the storm gets worse.”

Blake blinked, nodded, seeming to understand the double meaning. If he didn’t call off the enforcer, things were definitely going to get worse.

“Boss said to bring her in for questioning—” the enforcer started.

“I said let them go.” Blake’s voice carried authority, the kind that didn’t invite argument. “She’s nobody. We have business to finish.”

His gaze stayed on Mack. This isn’t over.

Mack stared back. Bring it.

“But I…” Alyssa started again. She shut up when Mack squeezed her side.

Blake added, quieter but no less threatening, “Make sure your girlfriend doesn’t wander into private areas again. Could be dangerous. People value their privacy.”

The enforcer looked between them, then shrugged and headed back to the study. Blake lingered another moment, his eyes straying to Alyssa, and something flickered across his face. Regret? Concern?

He disappeared into the study, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Mack counted to five, making sure they were alone, then turned Alyssa toward the main party. His hand settled on her lower back, guiding her forward. “Walk. Now. Don’t look back.”

She started to pull away, to turn, her mouth opening—

“Not here, Lyss.” He kept moving, kept her moving. “Keep walking.”

She obeyed. Muscle memory, maybe. Or shock. Either way, she matched his pace as they entered the main ballroom.