Chapter 11
Secure Location
Zach wasn’t taking her to the resort tower.
The path curved past the cluster of staff cottages—management perk—and continued toward the end, to her cottage, with its cheerful yellow door and the potted herbs on the windowsill.
Her stomach tightened. It had been her home for months now. When would she return?
“Give me five minutes,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I need to pack.”
Zach stopped, waiting while she fumbled with her keys. His presence at her back was solid, watchful. She wondered if he was cataloging threats even now—sight lines, entry points, vulnerabilities she couldn’t see.
Inside, Emma moved on autopilot. Bedroom first. She pulled her duffel from the closet and collected essentials: work outfits, jeans, shirts, running gear, and toiletries from the bathroom.
Her hands were steady. Good. She refused to let this situation steal her composure along with her sense of safety.
When she returned to the living room, Zach stood at the window, scouring the darkness beyond the glass.
“All set,” she said.
He turned, and his gaze swept over her bags with the same thorough assessment he’d given the perimeter. Without a word, he crossed the room and picked up her larger duffel, slinging it over his shoulder as though it weighed nothing.
“I can carry my own bags,” Emma protested from habit.
“I know.” His tone suggested he’d do it anyway.
She grabbed her laptop bag and purse, took one last look around the bungalow that had been her home for the past few weeks, and followed Zach into the night.
They walked in silence. Emma expected him to lead her toward the main resort building, where temporary accommodations were easily available. Instead, he took a path that climbed upward, away from the staff quarters.
The ocean murmured to their right, waves brushing the shore in rhythmic whispers. Above, stars pierced the blackness, brighter here than they’d ever been in Miami. Emma breathed in salt air and night-blooming jasmine, trying to ground herself.
The path curved again, and realization hit her.
“Zach.” She stopped walking. “Where are we going?”
“Secure location.”
Her feet started moving again. “But there’s nothing out here except—” The words died as the owners’ cottage came into view, perched on the cliff like a sentinel. Warm light glowed from the windows, spilling onto the wraparound porch.
Oh.
“You’re taking me to your house?”
“Safest place on the island.” Matter-of-fact. As if this were a tactical decision with no other implications whatsoever.
Emma’s pulse kicked up for reasons that had nothing to do with fear. “Zach, I can’t—there are other options. A room in the resort, or—”
“No.” He was still moving, covering the last stretch with long strides. “Security’s incomplete in the main building. Too many people have access. Here, I control every variable.”
Every variable. Including her, apparently.
She hurried to catch up, her mind spinning. Living with Zach. In his space. Yeah, nothing about that said simple.
The front door opened before they reached it.
Nick leaned against the doorframe, backlit by warm interior light, his expression hovering between amused and sympathetic. “Emma. Welcome to Villa Steele.”
“Nick.” Relief flooded through her. At least she wouldn’t be alone tonight with Zach’s intensity. “I’m sorry to intrude on your space like this.”
“Please,” Nick stepped aside, gesturing her in. “You’re doing us a favor. Zach’s been impossible since he saw that note. Now that you’re here, maybe he’ll stop pacing holes in the floor.”
“I don’t pace,” Zach said flatly, carrying her bag inside.
“You absolutely pace.” Nick caught Emma’s eye and winked. “Come in. Before Zach starts issuing house rules like we’re running a military compound, let me establish my one and only rule.”
Emma stepped inside, and warmth enveloped her—not just the temperature, but the atmosphere.
The space was larger than expected, open-concept, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dark ocean.
Comfortable leather furniture. A professional-grade kitchen that showed signs of use. Books on shelves. Maps on walls.
“What’s that?” she asked Nick.
“Inside this cottage, we’re not your bosses.” His tone was light but sincere. “You’re a guest here. More than that—you’re family now. Zach’s protocol or no.”
Zach made a sound that might have been disagreement. Or agreement. Who could tell?
Nick ignored him. “You’re allowed to tell him when he’s being impossible.”
Despite everything—the threat, the upheaval, the strangeness of standing in her boss’s home at night—a smile tugged at her mouth. “Noted.”
“Room’s this way,” Zach said, already moving down a hallway.
Emma followed, her laptop bag bumping against her hip. Photographs lined the walls: three boys at various ages, always together. Zach was easy to spot even as a teenager—taller than the others, serious even then.
A life she barely understood.
Zach pushed open a door at the end of the hall.
She stepped inside and froze.
This wasn’t a guest room.
The room was too personal for that. A king-sized bed dominated one wall, made with military precision—corners crisp, surface smooth. A dresser held a watch, a weapon she couldn’t identify, and a stack of books. The closet door stood ajar, revealing shirts hung in perfect order.
On the nightstand: a framed photo of a military unit, in full gear, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Grinning.
This was Zach’s room.
“Wait. This is your room.” Emma turned to face him. “Where’s the guest room?”
“There isn’t one.” He placed her duffel on the bed, his movements efficient. “You’ll take mine.”
“Absolutely not.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bedroom, Zach.”
“Non-negotiable.”
“Very negotiable. I’ll take the couch.”
His expression didn’t change. “No.”
“I’ve imposed enough without displacing you from your own bed.”
“Emma.” Her name in his growly voice did something to her nervous system. “You’re not sleeping on the couch. End of discussion.”
“Then neither are you.” She matched his tone, stubborn. “You’re enormous. You’ll wake up with your spine in knots.”
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or reluctant amusement. “I’m six-four and have slept in far worse places than a couch. It’s long enough. I’ll survive.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is—” Emma stopped, aware of how close they were standing, how his presence filled the room.
She could smell him: clean soap, coffee, something delicious she couldn’t name.
“The point is, you’re already doing enough.
Protecting me, uprooting your life, giving me a safe place to sleep. I don’t need to take your bed too.”
For a long moment, Zach simply looked at her. His eyes—that stormy gray blue—searched her face as if seeking to decode the mysteries of the universe.
“Relax. Unpack. There’s plenty of space in the dresser and the closet,” he said finally. “I need to check the perimeter.”
“Zach—”
But he was gone, moving down the hallway with his silent predator’s grace.
Emma blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was firm, comfortable. Through the window, the ocean stretched endlessly, moonlight painting silver paths across the water.
Her phone buzzed.
Lena
How are you holding up? Call me if you need to talk.
Emma smiled despite everything. Of course Lena was checking up on her. She hit dial.
Lena answered on the first ring. “Please tell me you’re somewhere safe.”
“Safe—yes.” Emma glanced around Zach’s bedroom—the precisely arranged books, the military discipline evident in every detail. “You’re going to laugh.”
“Oh god. What did Zach do?”
“He moved me into the owners’ cottage.”
A beat of silence. “You’re living with Zach Steele.”
“Temporarily, until they catch this guy.” Emma stood, restless, and moved to the window. “It’s not—we’re not—it’s just for security.”
“Mm-hmm.” Lena’s tone was rich with amusement.
“He said it’s the most secure location on the island.”
“I’m sure that’s the only reason.”
“Lena.”
“Emma.” Her best friend’s voice gentled. “How are you, really? Not the brave face you’re showing everyone else. How are you?”
Emma pressed her forehead against the cool glass. Outside, Zach’s silhouette paced along the cliff edge, scanning the darkness with relentless precision.
“Scared,” she admitted. “Angry. Grateful. Confused. All of it at once.”
“That’s allowed. Someone threatened you. You had to leave your space. Of course you’re feeling everything.”
“I just—” Emma struggled to find words. “I keep thinking about this guy. Is he watching me? For how long? What has he seen? What else does he know?”
“Hey,” Lena’s voice was firm now. “You’re safe. Zach won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know.” And she did. Whatever else Zach Steele was, he was definitely capable. “He’s wearing a path in the cliff right now, scanning for threats.”
“See? You’re in the most paranoid hands possible. That’s ideal.”
Emma laughed, the sound surprising her. “I think you mean vigilant.”
“Same thing, different PR.” A pause. “Are you going to be okay sleeping in his house?”
Was she?
Emma glanced around the room again, taking in more details. A compass on the dresser—not decorative, the real thing. Weapons hung neatly on silver-gray walls, more than she wanted to count. A dog-eared copy of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius lay on the nightstand.
Evidence of a disciplined life. A solitary life.
The rest of the cottage felt lived in—warm lighting, a well-used kitchen, family photos, comfortable furniture arranged for long conversations. Nick and David’s influence, most likely.
This room was different. Stripped down. Functional.
Zach’s space inside the brothers’ shared home.
And now she was sleeping in it. She took a breath… and inhaled Zach's woodsy scent which pervaded the room.
“Yeah, I think I will be,” Emma mumbled. “But it’s not only his house. It’s his bed. They don’t have a guest room.”
Silence greeted her.
“Alone, Lena! He’s sleeping on the sofa.”
“Well, that sucks. Maybe you should invest in some actual pajamas. Something lacy.”
“Lena!”
Her best friend’s laughter rang in her ear as she ended the call.
Emma sat back down on the bed, shaking her head. Lena’s teasing had done its job—the tight knot of anxiety in her chest loosened, just a little.
She pulled her duffel toward her and started unpacking. It felt presumptuous to put her things in Zach’s space. But he’d insisted, and she was too tired to argue with a man who treated stubbornness like an Olympic sport.
His bathroom was as spartan as his bedroom. Toothbrush, razor, soap.
When she emerged, she found Nick in the kitchen making tea.
“Chamomile?” he offered, holding up a mug. “Fair warning: Zach doesn’t keep much in the way of comfort items, but I had the kitchen stocked when I arrived. There’s a bit of everything.”
“Thank you.” Emma accepted the mug gratefully, wrapping her hands around its warmth. “This is all very surreal.”
“Welcome to life with Zach.” He leaned against the counter, his posture relaxed in a way Zach’s never was. “He means well. He’s just constitutionally incapable of expressing it.”
“I’ve noticed.” She sipped her tea. “Is he always like this?”
“Intense? Overprotective? Allergic to feelings?” Nick smirked. “Yeah. He’s also the most loyal person you’ll ever meet. When Zach commits to protecting someone, he doesn’t half-ass it.”
“I’m getting that impression.”
“And Emma—you may think I’m biased, but know this: no one can protect you better than Zach. No one. He’ll keep you safe.”
The front door opened, and Zach materialized from the darkness. His gaze went immediately to Emma, scanning her with that same thorough assessment before shifting back to Nick.
“Perimeter’s clear,” he said. “Motion sensors active. Cameras online.”
“See?” Nick grinned at Emma. “Paranoid.”
“Vigilant,” Emma corrected with a smile, echoing Lena’s joke.
Nick laughed and checked his watch. “Speaking of security, David is installing some new upgrade he dreamed up. I have to go supervise so he doesn’t electrocute himself.”
Emma followed him toward the front door. “Tell him I said good luck.”
“I’ll tell him you volunteered to help.”
“Nick!”
“Kidding.” He opened the door and paused, his expression softening. “You’ll be safe here. Remember what I said earlier—this cottage isn’t work. If Zach starts acting like your boss, feel free to remind him you're off duty.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
The cottage felt smaller now that it was her and Zach.
She thought about him giving up his bedroom without hesitation, pacing the perimeter, already planning who knows what for her. The absolute certainty in his voice when he said nothing would happen to her. Her mind bounced back to her new reality.
Emma had moved into Zach Steele’s bedroom.