Page 10 of Taking What's Mine

She purses her lips, and for a second, I see a flicker of guilt. Probably remembering how she climbed out that bathroom window. “Fine. We’ll do it together.”

I nod, relieved she’s not fighting me on that. “We should probably wait until we have a solid lead. We don’t want to show our faces if we can’t confirm he’s actually there. Let me put out a few more feelers. I’ve got some ex-contacts in Chicago from my days in the service. Maybe we can pinpoint Rolfe’s location more precisely.”

She grabs her coffee mug and takes a sip, considering. “Dean would help, too. But I guess we should only loop him in once we know there’s a real shot at catching Rolfe, right? I don’t want him pulling the plug before we can get close.”

My gut twists. “I hate going behind his back. But you’re right—it’s best to have concrete intel first. Then we can update him, show we have a solid plan.”

“Exactly.” She lets out a long breath, tapping her nails on the table. “I hate being stuck here, waiting. It’s not in my nature.”

“You’re not stuck,” I say, standing and collecting our plates. “We’re regrouping. It’s strategic.”

She watches as I move around the kitchen, depositing the dirty dishes in the sink. “You make it sound so heroic.”

I catch her eye, giving her a faint grin. “That’s my job.”

She rolls her eyes again, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips, too. “All right, Lincoln. So, what’s the plan for the rest of today?”

I rinse the plates, the water hissing over the last bits of egg. “We lay low, keep trying to confirm Rolfe’s whereabouts. Check to see if any new threats come in. If he contacts you again, we might glean something from the message.”

She sighs, looking around the cozy kitchen as if it’s a prison cell. “Fine. But the second we have a hint of where Rolfe is, we’re out of here.”

“Agreed.” I turn off the tap and wipe my hands on a dish towel.

When I glance back at her, she’s sipping her coffee, eyes steady on me. There’s a challenge in her gaze, but also something more—curiosity, maybe. Caution. It occurs to me we’ve never really spent much time alone together outside of the office. Sure, we’ve had the occasional run-in at team events, or passing conversations about files. But this? Living under the same roof, strategizing together? It’s all uncharted territory.

“Well,” she says softly, setting her mug down. “I guess we should get to work.”

I nod, crossing the small distance between us. “Yeah. Let’s see if we can figure out where Rolfe’s hiding.”

We stand there for a moment, neither of us moving, and the silence stretches. I feel an odd pull in my chest—like part of me wants to say something more personal, but the rest of me knows better. I’m here to protect her, not to blur lines or chase any lingering sparks.

Still, I can’t help thinking, as she turns and heads to the makeshift command center we’ve set up by the laptop, that we’re about to walk a fine line—together. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Isabel Maddox, it’s that she doesn’t back down easily. And neither do I.

One way or another, we’re going to find Morris Rolfe, and we’re going to shut down whoever’s threatening her. But in the meantime, we’ll have to figure out how to live—and work—side by side without igniting a whole different kind of fire.

Chapter 6

Isabel

Spending time with Lincoln in this safe house is both comforting and unnerving. Comforting because I know he’ll do everything in his power to keep me safe; unnerving because I can’t seem to banish the warm flutter in my stomach whenever he’s near. I catch myself sneaking glances at him when he’s not looking—watching the way his dark hair curls slightly at the edges, or how his broad shoulders fill out that worn black T-shirt. He’s so silent and steady, like a fortress, which only makes me want to find out what’s really beneath that tough exterior.

Right now, we’re both hunched over the small dining table, combing through the notes he’s gathered on Morris Rolfe. The morning sunlight filters in through the window, making the wood grain of the table gleam. I can’t help noticing how Lincoln’s hands flex when he’s reading, the way his fingers grip the papers like he’s ready to confront them if they dare contradict him. Everything about him radiates control—even hisvoice, deep and measured, has a deliberate softness that sends a prickle of heat down my spine.

I drag my gaze back to the laptop and exhale. “Nothing new from my contact in Chicago. But she did say she might have a lead in Saint Pierce—a tip that Rolfe was spotted there recently.”

Lincoln lifts his gaze from the notes. “Saint Pierce? Now I think he might really be the man after you,” he says quietly. His brown eyes meet mine, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe.

I snap myself out of it. “If he’s in Saint Pierce, we can get there pretty fast.” I lean forward, pressing the arrow key on my laptop. “She says there’s an adult club called Club Greed, some high-end club. Apparently Rolfe’s been seen coming and going.”

Lincoln’s expression darkens. “Club Greed?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Sounds classy. Doesn’t Dean run their security?”

“Yes, but I’ve never been there.” Despite myself, I grin. “I’ve heard rumors about it. It’s more of a private, members-only place—one that caters to clients who want to remain… anonymous.”

His jaw tightens. “We can’t just walk in there, guns blazing. We need a plan.”

I cross my arms over my chest, feeling a flicker of excitement. “Well, obviously. But we should go see if the rumors are true—if Rolfe is there, we might catch him in the act of doing whatever shady deal he’s got going on.”

Lincoln shifts in his seat, staring me down with that calm, controlled intensity I’m starting to recognize as his default. “We can scope it out. Undercover. But we do this carefully, Isabel.”

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