Page 60 of Hunted Hearts
Her throat tightened, but before she could spiral into noisy tears, a shadow fell over her.
Theo.
She eyed him, her heart surging at how he looked in his dark jeans and button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. The lines of his face softened when his gaze found hers. He didn’t say anything, just extended his hand.
“Dance with me,” he murmured.
Juliette glanced down at Navy, who had started to drift off, her little fist tucked under her chin. Rhae gently took the baby back, whispering, “Go on. You don’t want to miss dancing with Theo ‘Moves’ Malone.”
Flashing a grin, Juliette placed her hand in Theo’s. The roughness of his palm grounded her as he led her toward the cleared space in the center of the room. The music shifted to another slow track, and Theo turned to face her, his hand settling lightly at her waist.
She expected him to move with a certain stiffness—he was a SEAL, after all—but instead, he guided her with surprising ease, his steps confident and smooth. The warmth of his body seeped into her, the faint scent of smoke from the fire and soap wrapped around her like a tether.
As they moved in surprising little twirls around the floor, her mind wandered to everything that had happened—the chaos, the danger, the fear that still hovered like a shadow beyond these walls. But here, in Theo’s arms, it ceased to frighten her.
Her gaze lifted to his, and for a long moment, the sounds of the party dimmed. He wasn’t anything like the man she thought he was when they first met. He wasn’t just a bodyguard, or a brooding SEAL or the stubborn force keeping her alive.
He waseverything.
Somewhere between the soft notes of the music and the feel of Theo’s hand at her back, she knew she was sinking deep into the chaos of the family she’d never known she needed.
There was no denying it anymore—Theo Malone was claiming more than just her trust.
Carson appeared behind Theo and tapped him on the shoulder. “I need you in the office. Something happened.” He flicked his stare to Juliette.
And her stomach bottomed out.
Chapter Twelve
Maps, case files and intel reports sprawled across the long walnut table and filled the wall monitors in organized chaos. The result of Theo’s morning of work.
He stood at one end of the table, palms braced on the wood, his gaze sweeping over the stacks of photos and highlighted contracts as his brothers filled the seats around him.
The air felt heavy, like the weight of what they were about to discuss had soaked into the very walls.
“Talk to me, Carson. What the hell is going on?”
“Henrik Dahl, Juliette’s manager, was attacked.”
His focus came down small and tight. Meeting his brother’s gaze, he said, “What happened?”
“He was attacked outside his apartment last night. Broken wrist, busted ribs and a concussion. He said someone came up behind him, shoved him into a van, beat the hell out of him, then dumped him five blocks away.”
Theo’s pulse ticked in his throat as he stood straighter, fists clenching. “No robbery, no demands…just a brutal warning. That’s all this was.” His jaw flexed. “They wanted him alive. They wanted him to talk—to Juliette.”
All of his brothers had seen Carson and Theo striding out of the party and quickly followed. Now Oaks leaned forward, brows drawn. “We need to speak to the manager.”
Theo was already grabbing his phone but stopped. “He’s probably in the hospital.”
Carson nodded.
“We need to pull the police report.”
Denver drew a laptop toward him. “On it now.”
Theo’s pulse thumped in his temples. Dammit, this was not how he wanted the night to end. The last thing he wanted was to break the news to Juliette that her manager who she adored was attacked. Because of her.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
