Page 80 of Duty Devoted
I clicked the remote, headlights flashing their welcome. Almost there. Almost safe. Home to my secure building, doorman and cameras and?—
They materialized from between the cars like shadows given form.
Two men, moving fast, purposeful. One grabbed for my bag, yanking hard enough to spin me half around. The other reached for me, hands grasping, and?—
The scream tore from my throat before conscious thought engaged. Loud, primal, the kind of sound that comes from the place where civilized ends and survival begins.
“Help! Help me!”
I twisted, using the momentum from the bag-snatcher to break free from the second man’s grip. My keys fell, skittering across the concrete. The bag’s strap bit into my shoulder as I fought to keep it, some primitive part of my brain unwilling to let go despite the fact that there was nothing of much value in there.
Footsteps pounded across concrete—salvation in a security guard uniform. The two men looked at each other, some silent communication passing between them, and then they were gone. Melting back into the shadows between cars, leaving me spinning in the pulsing overhead lights.
“Ma’am? Dr. Valentino?” The security guard rounded the corner, hand on his radio, breathing hard. “Are you hurt? Did they?—”
His words faded to white noise. My legs gave out, dumping me onto the cold concrete. I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around my head, making myself as small as possible.
I was supposed to be safe here. This was Chicago, not Corazón. Parking garage, not jungle. Security cameras and guards and civilization.
But the terror was the same. The helplessness. The knowledge that violence could find you anywhere, that safety was just an illusion we told ourselves to get through the day.
“Dr. Valentino? Ma’am, I need you to talk to me. Are you injured?”
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move. Could only sit there on the oil-stained concrete, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
I was back to being terrified of everything.
Chapter 25
Logan
The Citadel Solutionsoffice elevator crawled upward like it was fighting gravity. I stabbed the button for our floor again. Worthless piece-of-shit technology. Everything in Denver moved too slow when you hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours.
My reflection in the polished steel doors looked like someone who’d crawled out of a cave. Three weeks of beard growth, hair that hadn’t seen scissors since before Ukraine, and eyes that screamed exhaustion. At least I’d grabbed a shower at the airport. Small victories.
The doors finally opened, and I stalked down the hallway, already ten minutes late. My go-bag thumped against my hip with each step, still packed with gear from Somalia. Just enough time to dump my shit at my apartment and haul ass here for this mandatory meeting Jace had texted me about.
Voices carried through the conference room door. Multiple voices. Not just the usual suspects.
I pushed through and froze.
Ethan sat at the head of the table. Not on a video screen from his ranch, but actually here, in the flesh. His eyes tracked over me, cataloging every detail of my disaster state. Great. Just fucking great.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” Ty leaned back in his chair, that shit-eating grin already in place. “And by cat, I mean whatever feral animal’s been using you as a chew toy.”
“Traffic. Sorry I’m late.” I dropped into an empty chair, ignoring how my ribs protested the movement. Three weeks of sleeping on rocks and dodging local militia had left their marks.
“From the airport?” Jace didn’t look up from his laptop. “Because your flight landed two hours and seventeen minutes ago.”
Of course he’d tracked it.
Movement to my left caught my attention. Ben Garrison sat quiet, as always, his Belgian Malinois, Jolly, lying at his feet. Thoughlyingwas generous since the dog’s tail never stopped moving and his mouth hung open in what looked like a perpetual grin.
The K-9 handler looked exactly the same as when I’d last seen him—maybe eighteen months ago? Calm, steady, the kind of guy who let his work speak for itself. The contrast between handler and dog couldn’t be more stark—Ben radiating zen while Jolly vibrated with barely contained energy.
“Ben.” I nodded. “Didn’t know you were back.”
“Got in last week.” His hand dropped to Jolly’s head, an absent gesture. “Long-term protection detail wrapped up.”
