James

“I know this isn’t easy, but telling me what really happened in New York is the only way to fix things.”

Fix things. See what I did there? Even as I say the words, I realize how ambiguous they sound. Yes, I’m here to keep her safe—it’s a soul-deep need, a part of the protector inside me. But the real reason, the one I’m struggling to admit, even to myself, is that I miss her. I want her back in my life. Not romantically, of course—I can’t give her that—but the way it used to be when we were friends. And the way I see it, if I play this right, I can do both. I can fix the mess I made of us while helping to keep her safe. It’s that simple. All I need to do is set clear boundaries from the start and be upfront about what we are to one another. That should resolve all this emotional angst neither of us deserves. 

Annelly wraps her arms protectively around herself, most likely trying to hide the tremble in her hands—but it’s too late. I already saw it. With her gaze cast downward, it’s impossible to read what’s going on behind those beautiful green eyes. So, I resort to playfully tapping her foot with mine, like I used to back when we spent our days together. Back when my job was to help Lucas protect his family, and she stayed with us at the house to help with the girls. 

She did everything she could to avoid me back then—not like she does now, but because she was shy. At least around me. She acted like she was scared to get too close, all innocent smiles and tentative glances—a refreshing change from the women who usually twist themselves into knots to get my attention. It’s hard to believe that was just this past summer. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Softening my tone, I urge her, “Talk to me, Annelly. I’m here to help.”

“What if what happened to me has nothing to do with your investigation?” she asks with an air of defiance, though the slight tremors coursing through her body tell the real story.

“If there’s no link, we’ll treat it as a separate matter. Either way, we want to help you.” She’s already shaking her head in protest, but I’m not a man who gives up easy—especially when it’s about something or someone I care about. “If it helps, we can keep things between us for now. But bringing Ben in would be better, since he can provide the resources we might need—including helping us handle your mom.”

At the mention of Ben dealing with her mother, I see a flicker of relief slip through her resistance. Still, she remains silent. 

Frustrated, I let out a breath. “Annelly, as your friend—” 

She cuts me off. “We’re not friends, remember? You made sure of that.” The bitterness in her voice takes me off guard. It’s so unlike her, and it stings. 

I clear my throat, my hand finding the back of my neck, rubbing at the tense muscles as the sharpness of her words cuts through my resolve like a blade. “I deserve that,” I admit, jaw clenching against the sharp edge of her words. I glance away just long enough to steel myself, then force my gaze back to hers.

“As someone who cares about you—and genuinely wants to help—it’s crucial you tell me everything you know. We have questions and need you to be completely honest with your answers. We need to know what you saw, what you went through, your gut feelings about each situation—every detail. We’re dealing with a lot of moving parts, and the people involved are dangerous. Because of that, let us be the judge of what’s important and what isn’t. Above all else, trust that we’ll keep you safe. Nothing you tell us will be used without your consent, and if sharing any information might put you in harm’s way, we won’t use it at all.”

“I’m telling you; I don’t know anything.” There’s a quiver of desperation behind her words, which means she knows something but is determined to make me believe otherwise. Whether it’s fear, shame, or pride that keeps her silent, she’s dead set on not opening up. And as much as I hate the thought of pushing her—possibly risking this fragile connection between us—she leaves me no choice. Her physical safety is paramount, taking precedence over the emotional wreckage that sits between us.

“I’m going to level with you. You know how I operate—raw, unfiltered honesty. I’ve always told you the truth, even when it hurt.” It’s a low blow, reminding her of the past, but my words have the desired effect. As her gorgeous eyes turn into watery pools, my chest tightens. Still, I force myself to press on. “I’m imploring you to tell me everything. The truth. Every sordid detail of it, because Annelly, these people are dangerous, and if they’re after you, they will not stop until they own you.” 

Harsh, I know. But she’s left me no choice. If it’s fear that’s making her hold back, then to save her, I have no qualms about using it against her. 

When she averts her gaze, I move with her, leaning in so she can’t avoid looking at me. Then I deliver the final blow. “They’re dangerous, Annelly. And I don’t mean the kind that you report to the police and expect a neat resolution. These people operate above the law, which makes them the worse of the worse as far as scum go.” I pause, letting that sink in. Gently, I take her hand, showing her I’m here for her, whether she likes it or not.

“Now, I can help you. Ben and the team can help you. But if you don’t talk to us, if you don’t step up to help us solve this, you could be endangering not just yourself but your mom, Emilia, the kids… along with me and everyone at Offset Tactical.”

Emotional blackmail? 

Really? 

That’s what we’re doing now? 

But as disgusted as I am with myself, I genuinely believe she’s left me no choice. But then she crumples in front of me, dissolving into a heap of tears and regret, and suddenly I’m not so sure I did the right thing.

“Oh god,” she mumbles, pulling away and burying her face in her hands. As her body jolts with racking sobs, my throat constricts and a deep ache settles somewhere deep inside my chest. 

She’s crying because of me—because of what I said. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself more. For handling her this way. For rubbing her face in whatever trouble she’s in and putting the fate of her loved ones on her shoulders. I’m manipulating her, coercing her into cooperating in a way I never thought I’d stoop to with her. And as much as I try to convince myself there was no other way, I know it’s bullshit. I could have been patient. I could have let her come around on her own, could have taken her somewhere safe until she realized she could trust me again. 

It’s what she deserves. 

But I’m a selfish bastard. Instead of patience, I hammered her for answers, playing on her fears so I could keep things on my timeline. Because this is who I am—the guy who controls every situation, never worrying about how it affects others as long as I’m comfortable and safe because my feelings are the only ones that matter. She deserves better than that. Annelly deserves someone good. Someone selfless. Someone who can weather the storm of their own emotions to put hers first. And that’s just not me.

“You need to talk to me, Annelly.” My voice is rough, weighed down by my guilt as I watch her fall apart. “Please. I want to help.”

Still hiding behind her hands, I breathe out a huge sigh of relief when she gives me a slight nod. It’s all the permission I need to pull out my phone and dial Ben, setting the phone on the couch between us. 

I hate seeing her so small. 

So broken.

Aware I’ve pushed her harder than I should have, I reach for her hands, gently prying them away from her face so I can see for myself that she’s okay and can handle what’s next. She’s still trembling, and her beautiful face is streaked with tears. It damn near shatters my composure. Every instinct screams at me to pull her into my arms. To hold her and reassure her that I’ve got her, but I can’t. I won’t. Because if I do, I’ll lose sight of the endgame—getting to the truth. To extricate the poison, I might need to put more pressure and I’m not sure I can do what needs to be done while also trying to comfort her.

“James, hang on,” Ben’s voice crackles over the speaker, the heartbreaking cries of his two-month-old daughter echoing in the background. “Sorry, had to hand Avery off to Jen. The damn doctor stuck her four times today. Four fucking needles, right into my 8-week-old baby girl’s legs. I almost lost it, man. Had tears in my eyes and everything. Took all I had not to lay the damn doctor out.” 

Beneath the gruffness is the unmistakable sound of a man completely in love with his baby daughter. It’s a pleasant reminder that not all parents are deadbeats like mine were.

“Rough day?” I ask, trying to inject a sliver of my usual nonchalance into the words. It falls flat, though. It’s been days since I’ve successfully channeled the easy-going guy I was before we introduced Zappala into Annelly’s life.

“The worst,” Ben grumbles, exhaustion lacing his voice. “Though by the sounds of it, not as rough as yours. What’s the update?” 

“I’m with Annelly. You’re on speaker. I’ve briefed her on the situation we’ve been monitoring since Monday, and she’s ready to answer some questions.” 

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s not ready—not even close. Her rigid posture and trembling hands tell me everything I need to know. I squeeze her hand gently, silently urging her to lean on me.

“Good to hear. Now, Annelly, we need to ask you a few questions. Specifically, about your time in New York…”

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