Page 84 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Two men—lethal, unrelenting, and so effortlessly masculine it should be illegal—standing before me like this, ready to protect, to train, and to challenge. Somehow, I am the lucky woman they’ve chosen to be theirs.

I swallow, gripping the edge of my seat.

“Ready?” Gabe’s voice is low and casual, but his eyes flick over me, reading every little reaction I can’t quite hide.

Hank smirks knowingly, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. “Let’s move before CJ catches us breaking protocol.” He pauses, tilting his head as his gaze sweeps over me, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Unless you need another minute to get yourself under control.”

“What?” I blink, heat creeping up my neck.

His grin widens. “That look in your eyes, luv. Like you’re two seconds away from locking the doors and making us late.”

Gabe exhales a sharp breath, his lips curving into something dangerously smug. “She does look hungry.”

My pulse spikes, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of looking away. Instead, I arch an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

“You two are imagining things.”

Hank chuckles, low and knowing. “Sure we are.” He jerks his head toward the door. “Come on, lucky girl. Let’s go before we lock these doors and do wicked things to you.”

Outside, a line of golf carts waits in the designated transit area, but my mind is stuck on something else—how in the hell did I get lucky enough to have them?

“Your chariot awaits,” Gabe says dramatically, gesturing to one of the carts.

“Golf carts?” I can’t help but laugh.

“The complex is massive,” Hank explains, tossing their bags in the back. “Walking everywhere would take forever.”

“Plus,” Gabe adds, sliding into the driver’s seat, “they’re fun.”

Chapter 25

We zip along widenedwalkways and across what must be an internal courtyard, passing other personnel in similar carts. It feels surreal, like being on an exclusive and very secretive college campus.

We arrive at a building marked “Physical Training” and step into what might be the most impressive gym I’ve ever seen.

The space is enormous—the size of a football field. A running track circles the perimeter, while the center houses various training stations: sparring mats, weight areas, what looks like an obstacle course, and—most impressive of all—a massive climbing wall that spans the entire far side of the room, at least a hundred feet high.

“Wow,” I breathe.

Gabe grins, clearly pleased by my reaction. “Not bad, right?”

“This is where you train every day?” I ask, taking it all in.

Hank nods. “Physical readiness is non-negotiable in our line of work.”

“Over here,” Gabe directs, leading me toward a seating area near one of the sparring sections. “You can set up while we check in.”

I set my laptop down and settle into the chair, angling myself fora good view of the training floor. The setup is perfect—table, space to work, even power outlets within reach, but the moment I flip open the screen, my stomach sinks.

Damn it.

I pat the side pocket of my bag, then the main compartment, fingers rifling through everything twice, three times.

No charger.

A sharp thread of frustration coils in my chest. I forgot to grab it after Gabe’slesson.

I check again, shoving aside notebooks, pens, and a granola bar I forgot I had. My pulse picks up, and an irrational sort of panic creeps in. My work, my focus—I need this.

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