Page 1 of Code Name: Grit

PROLOGUE

GRIT

The panic room was eight by ten feet of reinforced steel and concrete, but with Chiara Bianchi pressed against me in the darkness, the reinforced walls seemed to close in with each breath. The backup generator had kicked in when the assholes outside the room cut the power, casting everything in a dim red glow that made her olive skin look luminous.

“How long until the team realizes we’re trapped in here?” Her voice was soft, controlled despite the fear—or something else entirely—that had her pulse racing. Her breath was warm on my neck, making it impossible to ignore how close we were.

“They’re tracking us and them, so I don’t think it will be too long. Depends on their twenty.”

When she shifted, the curve of her hip brushed against me, sending electricity through my veins. I could step away, but nowhere in this room would be far enough. The small space in one of K19 Sentinel Cyber’s safe houses was designed for security, not to live in. It did have a few creature comforts in the way of furniture—two chairs, a table, and most dangerous of all, a bed.

“Anything?” she asked when I pulled out my cell to check for a signal.

“SOS only, which is all we need.”

“What do we do now, Grit?” My code name on her lips sent heat racing through me. I’d been fighting this attraction, telling myself she was too young, too innocent, and should be off-limits as Dante Castellano’s sister. If my new partner had the ability to read minds and discovered the depth of my desire for her, I had no doubt he’d abandon his vow to be on the side of the good guys, so to speak, and kill me with his bare hands.

“We wait.” And pray I could maintain my resolve not to lay a hand on the woman who seemed to do everything in her power to break my will. I couldn’t stifle my groan at feeling her hardened nipples through her svelte black catsuit against my chest.

When a bead of sweat ran down her neck, disappearing under her neckline, my hand twitched at my side, wanting to follow its path. She noticed—of course. Chiara never missed anything, especially not when it came to the way my body betrayed me around her.

“I see how you watch me during training,” she whispered, and something primal stirred deep in my chest. “When you think no one’s looking. When you’re teaching me how to fight, how to move.” Her body was flush with mine. “How to survive.”

She wasn’t wrong. Each time she’d pinned me on the mats, lingering a second too long or the way she’d catch my eye across the command center, that ghost of a smile playing at her lips all spelled torture. Days of it, watching her transform from someone I thought I could resist into a woman I couldn’t stop wanting.

The boundary I’d set for myself was fading with each measured breath between us.

“Chiara—” Her name on my lips sounded like a warning, but it was more of a prayer, yet she didn’t relent. Instead, she leaned in close enough for me to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, matching my own.

“I’ve never been as innocent as you think, Grit.” Her breath had gone from warm to scorchingly hot, and, God, how I wanted to take what she was offering. But I couldn’t. I somehow had to figure out how the hell to keep myself from crossing a line I couldn’t step back from.

And based on the way Chiara was looking at me, that line was about to disappear completely.

1

GRIT

TWO WEEKS PRIOR

The air changed the moment she walked into K19 Sentinel Cyber’s command center. Patton Abrams, code name Tank, was briefing the team on the Belcastro crime family, but his words faded to background noise when the scent of jasmine caught my attention.

Chiara Bianchi stood in the doorway. She was Alessandro “Dante” Castellano’s half sister, though you’d never guess the connection with their disparate appearances. The freckles scattered across her nose added an air of innocence that belied the analytical mind that had helped her evade capture for twenty-six years.

While still pregnant with Chiara, her mother, Amelia Castellano and with Summer Gregory had “joined forces” after discovering they were both in danger from different mob families. The three had lived in hiding for almost three decades, and if we didn’t do our job right, they’d be forced underground for the rest of their lives.

“Agent Harrison, I’m sure Admiral mentioned I’d be assisting with the Belcastro investigation,” she said, approaching when Tank paused the briefing.

Pershing “Admiral” Kane and his wife, Alice, were the founding partners of the security firm Dante and I had helped create.

“Grit,” I corrected. “Though I thought you were starting next week.”

She raised a brow. “The Belcastros aren’t waiting, so neither am I.”

Tank cleared his throat, and I caught the look of respect he gave her. We both remembered finding her at the Great Sacandaga Lake compound during the Castellano op and had witnessed her composure under fire.

But this was different. The Belcastros remained unaware of her existence, making her presence here both invaluable and dangerous. Her biggest threat was if Cassio, the family’s don, discovered she was the daughter he never knew he had.

“We’ve set up your workspace,” said Tank, gesturing toward a secure area separate from the tech hub. “The files you requested are ready.”

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