It’s fortunate Avery is already living with me. After our time in San Francisco, I’d have insisted on it anyway—a move that might have seemed unhinged under other circumstances. Though I suspect she has the measure of me by now.
We land in Dublin before dawn, surprisingly rested thanks to the comfort of the family jet—though not as rested as we might have been had we not spent half the night fucking like rabbits. No matter how many times I have her, it’ll never be enough. Avery Williams was made for me, of that, I’m certain.
There’s been no update on how things went last night at the Luxor Lounge, but no news is good news, so I presume our stalker is sitting tight in Wicklow.
Walsh stands sentry at my building’s entrance, flanked by Mason, Lynch, and Donovan—three of my most trusted operatives. Their formation is tight, expressions grim.
‘Do you have him?’
‘Negative,’ Walsh is ashen.
‘What the fuck?’ My anger reverberates through the air.
Avery tenses beside me; the contentment we found in the States and in each other evaporates in an instant. I smooth a hand over her waist. The last thing I want to do is startle her, even though I’m fucking livid with these imbeciles.
Truthfully, it’s me who is the fucking imbecile. Given the setup at the Luxor Lounge, and how ruthless and skilled my team are, I allowed myself to be distracted. I should have been focused on eliminating the threat personally. An amateur’s mistake.
Walsh swallows hard. ‘He took the bait. Left a black lily in the dressing room with a note: Plans change, but destiny doesn’t. But he vanished before we could contain him.’
‘How is that fucking possible?’ My voice could cut glass.
‘He deployed a sophisticated EMP device. Knocked out our electronics for exactly ninety seconds—just long enough to slip away. By the time the backup systems engaged, he was gone.’
‘Tell me we have something.’ I keep my voice steady despite the fury building in my chest. ‘An identity, at least.’
‘We’ve identified every person who entered the club last night. Cross-referenced with facial recognition and ID verification.’ Walsh hands me a tablet with detailed logs. ‘One anomaly. Finance Minister Matthew Donnelly checked in at 10:22 PM.’
‘And?’
‘Donnelly was giving a speech at Trinity College at the exact same time. We confirmed with multiple sources.’
I scan through the guest list protocols. Rian’s club requires retinal scans and government ID for membership. ‘How did he bypass security?’
‘That’s where it gets interesting.’ Walsh swipes to a security image. ‘He used a top-tier synthetic ID and a contact lens that mimicked Donnelly’s retinal pattern. The kind of technology only available to government agencies.’
‘Or someone with access to them,’ I mutter. ‘What about footage?’
‘That’s the other problem. The cameras weren’t just disabled—the data was corrupted with a military-grade algorithm. IT says it’s the same signature used by certain intelligence agencies to wipe sensitive information. Our techs are still trying to recover fragments.’
‘Connection to Donnelly?’
‘We’re digging. So far we know Donnelly oversees funding for several classified defence contracts. Including one with specialised tech development that our stalker seems to have access to.’
The bastard has resources that go well beyond what a typical stalker should have access to. And he knows exactly how to use them.
‘For fuck’s sake.’ My men form a circle around us, with Walsh at the front. His expression darkens. ‘And sir… your car.’
My shoulders tighten. ‘Which one?’ I have four. A military grade jeep, two black SUVs and an Aston Martin for fun.
‘The Aston Martin. It was keyed. Not randomly—with surgical precision. He carved a lily into the driver’s door, then disabled the alarm and the GPS tracker. Our guys only discovered it during the morning sweep.’
I feel Avery’s breath catch. My grip instinctively tightens around her waist.
‘Sir,’ Walsh says quietly. ‘There’s something else. He left this on your seat.’
Walsh hands me a manila folder marked CLASSIFIED in red. I only need to glimpse the first page to feel ice flood my veins. It’s a detailed report on the Mali operation.
‘What is it?’ Avery asks, reaching for the folder.
I close it before she can see. ‘Nothing.’ I snap, way harsher than I meant to. I’m on edge, and I don’t fucking like it. Not one bit.
‘Sorry.’ I press a kiss to her temple.
Walsh clears his throat. ‘There was a note attached.’ He hesitates, glancing at Avery, then passes it over to me.
Who is she truly safer with, Beckett?
Fuck. Somehow, this bastard has accessed information that should be impossible to obtain. He knows about Sarah. The hostages. Everything.
And he’s deranged enough to suggest he’s the better man.
‘Get Avery inside,’ I order, voice deadly calm despite my churning stomach. ‘Full lockdown protocol.’
‘Yes, sir.’
I’ve hunted men across continents, through war zones and urban jungles. This psychopath has managed to evade me for weeks, but his luck has run out. Back on my territory, with my full resources and my complete focus, I’ll find him—if it’s the last thing I do.
And when I do, I’ll make sure he never thinks about Avery again.
I spend the day in the conference room of my penthouse, methodically dissecting CCTV footage from the streets surrounding the Luxor. Walsh and Donovan stand at attention as we analyse every frame, every shadow, hunting for the Donnelly connection. It’s our only lead. Avery occupies herself moving her belongings from the guest room to mine—at my instruction. Giving her this task serves dual purposes: distraction from the situation and a clear statement that she’s no longer under my protection as my client. She’s under my protection as my entire world.
My phone vibrates against the mahogany table, interrupting the surveillance playback. The screen flashes with James’s name. Back from his honeymoon and straight to business—classic Beckett.
‘James.’
‘Little brother.’ His voice is relaxed, sun-soaked from weeks of cruising around the world with his new wife. ‘How are things?’
‘Busy.’
‘How did that stalker situation with Avery end up? I assume you took care of the bastard mad enough to gatecrash my wedding.’
I pause the footage, considering how much to share. James has been completely disconnected on his honeymoon—exactly as I instructed him to be.
‘I’m working on it.’ I lean back in my chair, eyes still fixed on the shadow figure on my screen. ‘He’s sophisticated. Used military-grade EMP to disable our systems.’
A beat of silence as the information registers. ‘Shit. That’s well beyond your standard obsessed fan. Have you any idea who this person is?’
‘No.’ It fucking pains me to say it. ‘This individual has access to technology and resources that suggest government connections or military background.’ And he has enough dirt on me to sully our entire family and everything we stand for.
‘And Avery? Are you still staying at her place with you as her shadow?’
Obviously James has no idea our arrangement has changed. Has no inclination that Avery is currently reorganising my closet to make room for her things. I’ve never even had a serious girlfriend since I left the military, let alone move one into my bedroom.
‘Security assessment determined her residence was too vulnerable. She’s staying here now.’
A loaded pause. ‘In your penthouse?’
‘My building has superior security protocols and controlled access points.’
‘Of course.’ His tone suggests he’s not convinced. ‘And how’s that working out? You’ve never been one for sharing your space.’
If only he knew Avery has been sharing my space for a long fucking time—even if it was mostly in my head. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Fine, huh?’ He scoffs. ‘I suppose sharing your apartment with an attractive glamour model isn’t the worst thing in the world.’
‘Avery isn’t a glamour model anymore.’
‘Since when? Is this because of the stalker?’
‘Since she asked me to call her agent yesterday and resign on her behalf.’ It was rather satisfying to be honest. Zack Kiel was not impressed at that turn of events, but when he realised who he was talking to, he wisely shut his mouth.
Silence for a long beat, then finally the penny drops. ‘Are you and she…?’
‘Yes.’ No point denying it. He’ll find out soon enough. His wife is Avery’s best friend.
‘Wow.’ He doesn’t even attempt to hide his shock. ‘Is it serious?’
‘Yes.’ I don’t have to explain. My brothers have come to expect my short responses.
‘Wow. Scarlett is going to be ecstatic with this development.’
‘Oh God, tell her not to order us all matching fucking pyjamas for Christmas Day.’
‘I’ll try, but I can’t promise.’ He pauses for a few seconds and I wait for him to process it all. ‘Need anything from the family? Resources, contacts?’
‘No.’ I want my family as far away from this as possible. Bad enough the stalker is already after one person I love.
James pauses. ‘Killian… be careful.’
The implication hangs in the air. Amongst all this newfound joy, there’s a lunatic out there who wants what’s mine, and would likely kill me to take her.
‘I will. I have to go.’
‘We’ll be double dating before the week is out, mark my words.’
I end the call, turning back to the screen. We can double date when I catch this psychotic bastard. Somewhere in these shadows is a man who thinks he deserves Avery. Who believes he’s entitled to her; believes he can take better care of her than I can.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
When I find him, I’ll make sure he understands exactly who she’s safest with.
