Lifeline

“We can have the meeting after you’ve had some sleep and something to eat,” I murmur softly, my feelings clear as daylight in my voice. Realizing my mistake, I clear my throat and pull back. “I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

O’Brien’s eyes are still locked on me. Always searching.

Hoping to God he didn’t pick up on the emotion in my voice, I walk to the tiny kitchen and start to make turkey sandwiches.

“Thanks, JJ,” he finally says.

“Of course.” I let out a chuckle. “Part of the job is making sure you stay healthy.”

I plate the sandwiches and carry them back to the living room. When I hand O’Brien his food, the corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s not part of your job to make sure I eat.”

I take a seat across from him. “As your partner it is. I’ll finish unpacking while you get some sleep.”

I keep sneaking glances at him while we eat, then my eyes lock on his bicep, the sleeve of his shirt wrapped tightly around his arm.

I’ve thought it a million times before, but damn, there isn’t an inch of this man that doesn’t fill me with desire and love. The way his jaw moves while he chews… sigh.

“Are you going to be okay sitting here every day?” O’Brien asks after swallowing his last bite.

“Yes, I’m going to study languages so I can give you a run for your money,” I playfully inform him. Getting up, I take his plate, then give him a pointed look. “Sleep.”

A slow grin tugs at his mouth as he stretches out on the couch. “Yes, ma’am.”

Dear. God.

O’Brien

It takes three weeks of driving Joseph Dobroshi around like a glorified fucking chauffer before I’m allowed in on some action.

It’s just not the action I was expecting. I should’ve, though. It was no secret the Bregu syndicate deals in sex slavery… but this?

As I follow Joseph through a hallway at one of the massage parlors, the air is filled with grunts and disorientated groans. A man comes out of a room as we pass by, and when I glance inside, it’s to see a young girl cuffed to a single bed. The sheets are filthy as fuck, and she’s clearly drugged out of her mind, her hair a disheveled mess, bruises coating her clammy skin.

Every muscle in my body tightens at the horrible sight. My instinct is to rush in and save her, but unable to blow my cover, I swallow hard on the knee-jerk reaction. Immediately guilt rears up in me, demanding I help her. I fist my hands at my sides while my heart squeezes painfully for her.

Her glassy eyes lock with mine, and it makes the foundation my career’s build on shake.

I’m sorry. You’re not the only one. I have to keep cover, so I can save all of you. Not just one.

The door shuts, severing my connection with the girl. My attention swings back to the man, watching as he zips up his fly before making his way toward the front of the establishment. He looks like an ordinary businessman, nothing about him standing out. Fucking rapist. If there weren’t so much hanging in the balance, I’d arrest him right now and make sure he shared a cell with a big fucker who’d use him as his bitch.

“Remember, you don’t say anything. I’m vouching for you, which means if you fuck up, I’m dead,” Joseph reminds me, drawing my attention back to the real reason I’m here. I’m about to get my introduction into the syndicate. We stop in front of a closed door, and he places his hand on my shoulder, locking eyes with me. “Make me proud.”

For the past three weeks, I’ve been working my ass off to win Joseph’s trust. I spent almost every night driving him from one club to the next. Two days ago, he drank too much, and I got his drunk ass back to my apartment. That’s when I learned Joseph’s married. His wife called, and I set her mind at ease, reassuring her I’d get him home as soon as he woke. Joseph seems to love his wife a lot, and because of what I did, it solidified things between us as friends. At least as much as an agent can be friends with a criminal on my part.

I nod, forcing the corner of my mouth up into a grin. “I won’t let you down.”

Joseph opens the door, and I follow him into a room. There’s a round table, and I quickly assess the men. Berisha, Sadiki, Sava, and Idrizi. Joseph gestures for me to take a seat next to him, all eyes settling on me. I feel like a bug beneath a microscope, but I square my shoulders and stare right back.

“This him?” Berisha asks, tipping his chin in my direction. “Your dog.”