“We’re done here.” Cole started to pull Lydia toward the front.
She pulled back and stepped toward the empty seat beside Camila. “Just a warning, I’m not the best company right now. But I’d like to hang out and get to know you guys.”
That was a good sign. Any sign of life was promising. He knew she faced a tough road ahead, and there would be days when the grief overwhelmed her. But he liked seeing her among his friends. He loved it, actually. The interaction would soothe her and drive home the fact that she wasn’t alone. She also needed to establish trust with them since they were all headed into an operation together.
In one week, they would fly back to Europe and visit the clubs where she’d seen the most Easter eggs. With any luck, her new dancing skills would lure the hacker into the open. Then this would all be over.
The nine-hour flight from Dublin to Missouri passed quickly, thanks to the nonstop conversation. He had a lot of catching up to do with his friends.
Lydia listened to their stories without comment, her intelligent eyes taking everything in. She wasn’t standoffish. She was fighting an inner battle, drowning beneath the gravity of the past twenty-four hours.
He watched her closely and caressed her constantly. Every touch she returned in kind, affirming her strength. She wasn’t shutting down. She was fighting through this.
It was after dark when they arrived at the lakehouse. He didn’t recognize the black Rolls-Royce Wraith in the driveway, but he knew it belonged to Trace Savoy. The man had a passion for expensive luxury cars.
As he stepped out of the rented SUV and unloaded their bags, Lydia stopped him with a hand on his arm.
Footsteps moved around them as the others collected their things and headed toward the front door.
“It’s been eight years.” She searched his eyes.
Eight years since he’d seen Danni.
“I know.” He brushed a red lock of hair from her face.
“Aren’t you the least bit freaked out?”
“A year ago, I might’ve been apprehensive. But today? With you? Not at all. I’m not excited about introducing my friends to Trace. Too many strong personalities in one room is a recipe for trouble. But they’ll behave.”
She nodded and stepped into him, hugging his waist and resting her forehead on his chest. “Thank you for doing this.”
“I want this.” His blood heated. “Maybe not as badly as you do, but I want revenge for the same reasons. For everything you’ve lost and for the safety of our country.”
“Good.” She straightened and twined her fingers with his. “Let’s go teach me how to dance.”
When they entered the house, Trace met them at the door. Alone.
A glance over Trace’s shoulder revealed a vacant living room and kitchen. No Danni.
Goddammit. If she didn’t come—
“She wasn’t feeling well.” Trace read his thoughts and nodded at the hallway. “She’s taking a nap.”
Tension released from his shoulders as he took in Trace’s crisp black suit, six-foot-four frame, and brooding scowl. Always scowling. Predictably broody.
To those who didn’t know Trace, he exuded a severe, imposing, pretentious demeanor that reeked of money. His inheritance had made him obscenely wealthy, and he owned The Regal Arch Casino and Hotel, which had grown into a booming enterprise. But he hadn’t always been a cutthroat businessman.
He met Trace in the activity. They were operatives in the field together, inseparable for years while running dangerous missions. Spending time with someone like that, doing what they did, built a level of trust that couldn’t be imitated. They knew each other’s weaknesses, fears, dirty habits, every secret. They were brothers in arms. Best friends.
When Trace took a promotion to be his handler—essentially his boss—it had been a great fit. They already had a relationship built on trust. For the next few years, Trace guided him through every operation, and he trusted Trace not to get him killed.
Their work relationship ended when Trace’s parents died. He retired and donned a tailored suit. But they remained best friends.
Until Danni.
All those memories came rushing back as he met and held Trace’s stark blue gaze. He waited for the blistering resentment to surge with it. The betrayal. The toxic jealousy. But none of it inflamed. Because it no longer existed.
As he stood face-to-face with Danni’s husband, he only felt resolution, contentment, and gratitude.
“Thank you for coming.” He stepped forward.
There was no awkward shuffling of shaking hands or halfhearted side-hugs. They went straight in for the hard, constricting embrace of old friends, with arms wrapping around each other and fists pounding on backs.
Trace had maintained his lean muscle, evident in the flexing strength of his squeeze. Eight years hadn’t physically aged him. If anything, the years made him even more disgustingly handsome and distinguished.
When they separated, Cole turned to the quiet, stunning redhead at his side. “This is Lydia.”
Her eyes shone with alertness and curiosity as she shook Trace’s hand. “Don’t be alarmed, but I know everything about you.”
“Everything?” Trace arched a stern brow at Cole.
“All of it.” He nodded. “She knows our history, our careers, and every detail of our tangled relationship with Danni. Full disclosure.”
Trace looked back at Lydia, his expression softening with something akin to wonderment. “She’s the real deal then.”
“It doesn’t get more real than this.” Cole clasped her hand.
She didn’t smile, didn’t speak. But her fingers squeezed his, clenching and releasing in silent agreement.
He introduced Trace to the team. They knew everything there was to know about one another. They’d just never met in person.
“I’ll show you guys around.” Tate led the others toward the hallway.
Kate, Matias, and Camila had never been here. Everyone else was well acquainted with the property.
With nine bedrooms and ten bathrooms, it had been designed to serve as his safe house and accommodate large teams of operatives. Plenty of space for this group to spread out and make themselves at home.
“These walls hold a lot of memories.” Trace stared after the team, watching them disperse. “Not all of those memories are good.”
Eight years ago, he and Trace had brought Danni here and forced her into a decision. They’d shared her in this house. Fought over her. Cried over her. This was where she’d said goodbye to Trace after telling him she’d chosen Cole.
Cole could never live in this house. It wasn’t his home. It only served as a safe place to regroup and make plans. That was why he’d offered it to the Freedom Fighters. This property was as much theirs as it was his.
“Why am I here?” Trace clasped his hands behind his back and tipped his head down, his sharp eyes flicking between Cole and Lydia. “I want the whole story.”
“You’ll get it, but we should wait for Danni.”
“I’m here.” Her voice drifted from the hallway, followed by the light tread of her footsteps.
His hand went to Lydia’s thick red mane, stroking the silky length. He did it without thought, a subconscious gesture of possessiveness, as if he needed to prove that he wasn’t available. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, least of all, Danni.