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“I can’t say, too many people around. I’ll be in Geneva tomorrow morning. I’ll text you tonight and we’ll arrange a spot to meet.”

“Sven,” she snapped. She’d kill him for withholding shit from her. “You have to tell me something.” Seconds ticked by. She pulled the phone away from her ear—still connected. She opened her mouth to speak, but his mumble stopped her.

“Bioterrorism.”

Cells smashed together behind her eyes and her knees buckled. She dropped into the settee at the foot of the bed and curled her hand around the smooth milky-colored upholstery. “What are you talking about?” Her lungs constricted, cutting off the flow of blood to her brain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

The line went dead.

Chapter

Three

Brock’s mouth watered as a server slid a burger and fries under his nose. He mumbled a thank-you and dug in. He’d caught a flight at six that morning and had gotten only four hours of sleep after getting home from Tasha’s bar. He’d managed to sneak in a little sleep on the plane from Newark to Lisbon, Portugal, between nightmares of Dani falling out her window. He’d called Leland after Dani had hung up the previous night, and his cousin had eagerly offered his villa in Cologny for Dani and him to use.

Little did Dani know he was on his way there. He’d leave Lisbon in an hour after his short layover and land in Geneva just after 2:00 a.m. He hadn’t figured out how he’d explain his presence, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, stay in California when this shit was going down.

He hated that he couldn’t stay away from her when she was in trouble, especially knowing he wouldn’t be welcomed. The memory of her cold, terrified body slamming against his chest when he’d released her from the kidnappers flashed through his mind. She put on a tough front. Always had. Keeping people at arm’s length was her specialty and he was no exception. At least now.

Back in the day, she’d loved him as much as he’d loved her. She’d been more carefree, fun, happy . . . then he’d cut her out of a deal. He forced a bite down his throat and chased it with water. He hadn’t intended to ruin things between them, and never in a million years had he thought she’d be that pissed with him for doing a job without her. Yeah, he’d made more money. But he’d also offered her a chunk to appease her. He’d been wrong to do it. They’d always been a team, but cockiness—and a desire to protect her—had gotten to him.

Maybe that’s why he’d jumped into action this time. Guilt. And because, despite her resistance to asking for help and showing vulnerability, she’d called him. She hadn’t asked for help, but she needed him. History proved that her moments of distress showed her deepest emotions.

Ring, ring, ring

His phone lit up next to his glass of water, and he reluctantly lowered the thick, juicy piece of meat sandwiched between the softest, cheesiest bun he’d ever tasted to look at the number.

Milo. More guilt. Dani had specifically told him not to say anything to Serena, and he’d never go against her wishes, but he couldn’t keep this from Milo. What Milo did with the information was up to him.

“Thanks for calling,” he said, as he shoved a fry into his mouth. After over sixteen hours of traveling, his body didn’t know if it was digesting breakfast or dinner, but he didn’t care.

“What’s going on? Your text said it was urgent.”

“You’re not going to like this, and it’s going to upset Serena, so you might want to make sure she’s not within earshot.”

“She’s outside doing yoga.” Trepidation built in his friend’s voice. “Tell me.” It wasn’t a request but an order. Anything that might hurt Serena put Milo in a bad way.

“It’s Dani. She called me from Geneva. Someone’s after her.”

“What are you talking about? She’s there on vacation.”

Brock snorted. “Do you know her at all, dude?”

“Ah, fuck. I swear to god I don’t know how she’s lived this long.”

Brock didn’t bother agreeing. He knew more about Dani’s reckless job choices than anyone. Now that Milo and Serena were on the straight and narrow, they had less tolerance for Dani’s lifestyle. And his. Truth be told, he was getting sick of it, too. He no longer treaded on the dangerous side of the tracks but stuck to a steady income to which he had few ties.

“I’m not letting Serena go there ten weeks pregnant. The stress of the situations Dani gets into is something I don’t want her or my unborn child anywhere near. And you can tell Dani I said that.” The bite to his voice chomped into Brock’s last, exhausted nerve.

“Dani gave me specific instructions not to tell Serena, so why don’t you hold your temper?”

Milo hissed out a long, low breath. “Sorry, man. I just know Serena would be on the next plane if she knew.”

“Well, you can tell her I’m on it for her.”

“You’re on your way to Geneva?” Milo’s voice fell with disbelief.