Page 69 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
"Remember, you're just a curious journalist," Kade murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as his hand settles possessively on my lower back. "Let Frost take the lead on the photography angle."
I shift away from his touch, raising an eyebrow. "I've been doing this for years. You don't think I know how to act like a journalist?"
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Just follow my lead."
"Your lead?" I scoff quietly as we approach the museum entrance. "Last I checked, I'm the one with press credentials."
Kade's eyes darken. "Last I checked, I'm the one keeping you alive."
The grand museum building towers over us, my pulse quickening with both nervous anticipation andirritation. I shift my laptop bag deliberately into the space between us.
Asher glances between us, his expression impassive except for the slight amusement in his eyes. "If you two are done with whatever this is, we have a mission."
I take a deep breath, centering myself. "Got it. Curious but not pushy. Though some of us know how to ask questions without sounding like an interrogation."
Kade's jaw tightens. "Alina—"
"Showtime," I whisper, cutting him off as we step into the museum's bustling entryway.
The change from chilly outdoors to cozy interior hits immediately. I navigate through the crowd toward the welcome counter, deliberately moving a step ahead of Kade. His frustrated exhale behind me is oddly satisfying.
"Excuse me," I flash my most professional smile at the elderly volunteer. "I'm Alina Bennett fromThe Bay Herald. We're doing a piece on maritime preservation techniques. Is there any chance we could speak with someone from the conservation department?"
The woman's eyes light up. "Oh, how wonderful! Let me see if Dr. Larsson is available. He loves talking about his work."
As she picks up the phone, Kade leans close, his lips barely moving. "Good. Now try not to antagonize our contact the way you do me."
"I only antagonize people who deserve it," I whisper back, maintaining my pleasant expression.
Asher positions himself nearby, scanning the room with calculated precision while appearing to take a few photos. His movements appear casual, but I've learned enough to recognize his tactical awareness.
"Eastern corner," he murmurs, adjusting his camera lens. "Security camera blind spot if we need it."
Dr. Larsson, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and thick-rimmed glasses, approaches and greets us warmly. "Always happy to discuss our preservation efforts," he turns and leads us through a staff-only door. "What specifically interests you?"
I launch into our cover story, my professional demeanor taking over. Kade stays close, too close, his presence both reassuring and infuriating. Every time I step away, he finds a reason to close the distance.
"You're hovering," I whisper during a moment when Dr. Larsson turns to open another door.
"I'm protecting," Kade counters, his voice low and firm.
"I don't need—"
"Both of you, focus," Asher interrupts quietly, his expression unchanged as he snaps photos.
Dr. Larsson guides us deeper into the museum, past roped-off sections where the public never ventures. The stale air tickles my nose—a mix of old paper, preservation chemicals, and something earthier beneath it all. I keep my recorder running in my pocket while maintaining eye contact with our host, my journalist instincts cataloging every detail.
Glass cases line the narrow hallway, housing artifacts deemed too fragile or perhaps too controversial for public display. Kade's presence behind me feels like a human shield—solid, warm, and frustratingly protective. Each time I slow to examine something, his body adjusts, maintaining that careful distance that's close enough to grab me if needed.
"Our climate-controlled storage houses over fifteen thousand artifacts not currently on display," Dr. Larsson explains, punching a code into a keypad. "Only senior staff have access to these areas."
The heavy door swings open with a soft hiss. My professional smile stays fixed, but my pulse quickens. We're getting closer to whatever Asher flagged in those shipping manifests.
"Fascinating," I murmur, stepping forward only to feel Kade's hand suddenly gripping my elbow, his slight nod directing my attention to a wooden box tucked away on a bottom shelf.
I shake off his hold but follow his gaze. "Dr. Larsson, what can you tell me about that compass?"
The curator follows my gaze, a smile spreading across his face. "Ah, that's a fascinating piece. Early 19th century, if I'm not mistaken. Would you like a closer look?"
