Page 125 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“But everything electronic seems to be on the fritzlately,” Malia finishes, frowning at the register as it suddenly reboots itself. “Great. There go all our open tabs.”

“I can re-enter them,” Jenna sighs, reaching for the paper backup she’s been keeping. “Good thing I started writing these down.”

“Smart,” I say, glancing at the security cameras in the corner of the ceiling—one has its red recording light blinking irregularly. “Is that normal?” I ask, nodding toward it.

Malia follows my gaze and frowns. “No. Security systems should be on a separate circuit.” She pulls out her phone to text someone, then frowns. “And my battery’s at 15% after charging it an hour ago.”

A customer approaches the counter, looking annoyed. “Your Wi-Fi just went down again,” he informs us. “Second time I’ve had to restart my VPN connection.”

“Sorry about that,” Sophia tells him smoothly. “Can I offer you a free pastry for the inconvenience?”

As Malia rings up the next order, I step a little closer, keeping my voice low. “You don’t think all this could be connected, do you?”

She doesn’t look at me, just keeps tapping on the register. “Connected to what?”

“My USB drive. The battery drains. The glitches…”

Malia pauses just long enough for the silence to tighten, then shrugs. “How would that work? Your drive’s never been anywhere near the equipment here.”

“But still?—”

“It started before you.” She glances at me, her voice dropping. “Before you ever came to The Guardian Grind.”

That stops me. “Before me?”

“Yeah. Right about when I came back on. After…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.

Kazakhstan.

A chill slides down my spine.

“It’s probably just wear and tear,” Malia adds quickly. “We push this gear hard. Most of it wasn’t designed for the level of businesswe get in this coffee shop.” But her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

And the register glitches again.

The door chimes. My back is to the entrance, so I don’t immediately turn.

“We’re closing in fifteen,” Jenna calls out automatically.

The responding silence feels charged, somehow—electric and heavy as the air before lightning strikes. I turn slowly, napkins clutched in white-knuckled fingers, and there they are—Hank and Gabe filling the doorway like storm fronts, their presence swallowing the light from the room.

Chapter 36

Hank and Gabeare dressed in civilian clothes—dark jeans stretched across powerful thighs and black T-shirts that cling to broad chests under weather-worn leather jackets—but there’s nothing civilian about the predatory intensity burning in their eyes or the rigid set of their shoulders.

Power radiates from them in visible waves, their bodies coiled with a controlled violence that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Hank’s jaw tightens as our gazes lock, a muscle ticking beneath stubbled skin, while Gabe’s mouth curves into something too sharp to be called a smile.

The space between us seems to compress, oxygen thinning as they step into the room with the grace of men accustomed to moving as one.

My heart stutters. Relief and something hungrier flood my system.

“Ally,” Hank says, my name a command on his lips.

“You’re back,” I manage, the napkins slipping from my suddenly nerveless fingers.

“We are,” Gabe confirms, his eyes never leaving mine as he stalks forward. “And we’re leaving. Now.”

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