The Intelligence Unit Series

Myles Bishop counted the measured thump of his footsteps so he wouldn't f*****g scream. He took pride in being meticulous, in doing painstaking research to be sure he'd be in the best position to get what he wanted. He'd considered dozens of women-Ruthie the veterinary technician, Olivia the paralegal, Liliana the fitness influencer-before choosing Chloe. Myles had been so careful, taking the time to patiently get to know her. It had been so exciting, a warm thrill buzzing beneath his skin as he'd learned who she was and what she liked. What made her smile. What she wanted. What she dreamed about. She'd been all too eager to show it to him.

It was amazing, really, how careless people were with their personal lives online. They spilled so many details on social media, he barely had to do any real digging anymore to find out where a person worked, who they'd dated, or what their patterns were. With every mention of a spin instructor at the local gym, every #girlsnightout hashtag, every post made with a location stamp attached, people were telling the world where they'd be and when-along with where they wouldn't. By the time Myles had actually met Chloe face to face, he'd already known enough about her to write a biography. It had let him lay the perfect groundwork for their relationship, making her think he was interested in the difference between shortbread and scones and that his family dog was a Jack Russell terrier, too. Truth be told, Myles loved the beginning of a new relationship best, when things were fresh and new, full of anticipation-God, just the thought of it made his heart race and his d**k rock-hard. It was like a fresh canvas waiting for paint, or a huge lawn full of freshly-fallen, unmarked snow.

Still, as tempting as it was to give in to the rush of emotions that came at the beginning, he always acted with care. That control had kept him safe after all this time, and he knew that it was necessary, despite how hard it was to hold back. The foundation was important. It opened the possibilities for all the rest. So, yes, Myles knew a lot about Chloe, right down to the grade she'd gotten on that big project of hers and the way she put extra ice in her aluminum water bottle, every time, to keep it nice and cold throughout the day.

What he hadn't anticipated, however, was that she'd go to the cops over one simple misunderstanding.

Anger slunk through his veins, hot and dark. How could she do that to him, especially after he'd over-tipped her for nearly a month, then brought her flowers a few nights ago? It was bad enough that she'd let that lying ex-boyfriend of hers walk her partway home last night. Myles had only been trying to protect her-at first, anyway. Eduardo might be pretending he'd moved on, but Myles knew the truth. He could tell by the way that Eduardo looked at Chloe that her ex still wanted her. The fact that she'd been naïve enough to trust him on a dark street just proved how much she needed someone like Myles to keep her safe. But not only had Chloe walked shoulder to shoulder with Eduardo, laughing and talking until they'd parted, practically flirting with him, but then she'd called the police on him?

Maybe it's a sign, whispered a little voice in the back of his head, and he considered the suggestion from his subconscious as he stepped into the corner market two blocks from his apartment. Occasionally-not often, but every once in a while-things didn't go according to plan. As much as it grated on him to admit it, there were things that no amount of preparation or studying could help him predict. The cops wouldn't find anything they could pursue; Myles had made sure of that. The law was another thing that, ironically, worked in his favor, requiring so much proof for action that he could do so much worse than follow Chloe and still nothing would stick. He'd grown so good at planting reasonable doubt that it was second nature now. Still. A misstep could be costly. Maybe he should forget Chloe. Move on to someone else, or even another city, just to be safe.

No. He'd chosen Chloe carefully, and he had to trust his instincts. He'd come too far to lose control. He didn't want to get caught, but Chloe belonged to him. She was his. He'd just have to play it safe for a while until he could make her understand.

His first order of business was to figure out how two sharp-eyed detectives had shown up on his doorstep rather than the run-of-the-mill patrol cops who were usually so overworked that they were easily dodged. Myles would need a plan to get around them, and that plan would involve pulling back. Patience. More studying.

Because he had chosen Chloe. And he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that she chose him, eventually, too.

***

Ryan sat suspendedeighty feet in the air in little more than his gear and a smile. But they'd been light on calls all day, and he'd been pretty desperate for something to keep his mind off of what had happened to Chloe last night. A fact that Hawk must have sensed, because he hadn't hesitated to not only call a rope rescue drill, but to put Ryan's a*s over the side of the ten-story burnout building, even though both Faurier and Gates grumbled that he always got to do the fun stuff. "You good, Daredevil?" Hawk called over the edge of the roof.

"Better than most," Ryan flipped back with his first genuine smile since last night. Between the drill-down focus needed to hang off the side of a building and the adrenaline of being far enough above the city to see for miles around, he was able to slide the tension out of his shoulders and the certainty back into his brain. This was his hot spot. Not necessarily dangling midair, although rope rescue was never not very f*****g cool. But anyplace Ryan could uncover a risky thrill, something to tackle that put a lot on the line? Yeah. He was always going to live right there. Out loud. Where shit mattered the most.

Hawk's laughter echoed down from above. "Let's see if we can make it interesting, then. You've got a trapped tender-age civilian on the fourth floor. Sixty seconds to make the rescue. And, oh, by the way, I started the clock five seconds ago."

Oh, game on. Ryan's heart went from zero to go-get-some at the same time he gave the lower command to Gates, who was on his belay. Gates, thank f**k, was quick to move, lowering Ryan swiftly until he was aligned with the outside of the window. Burnout buildings were bare-bones by nature-no electricity, no glass in the windows, shit for visibility, especially in the waning late-afternoon sunlight. He took one controlled heartbeat to peer inside the empty space of the window, catching nothing but shadow and soot and the overturned furniture they used to make search and rescue drills a righteous pain in the a*s. But then-wait. There. Hawk must really want him to work for this one, because the child-sized rescue dummy was tucked just out of reach.

Not that Ryan didn't make a Hail Mary grab for it, anyway, because hey, why the hell not? But he came up with nothing but air, and damn it, he was running out of time. At this angle, he couldn't maneuver his arm into the space to reach the dummy, and he damn sure didn't have the ability to get past the window frame with his rope gear on. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Faurier, the cocky bastard, who stood a few feet from the window with his arms crossed over his chest and a big fat gotcha grin on his face. "Tick tock," Faurier said, waggling his brows. "I'll see you at the bottom when you come up empty," he added before disappearing. But oh, no. Hell, no. Ryan might not be able to get the leverage he needed to gain those few precious extra inches of reach from where he was, but he could figure this out. It might take more balls than brains, but he had to think outside the box. Hell, he had to flip the box on its head. He had to...

Oh.

Oh.

The idea blooming in his mind was chock full of risk, Ryan knew, but f**k it. He couldn't get to the dummy from his current position, but if he changed his angle of entry, he'd be able to just reach it.

And in order to change his angle, he was going to have to turn this shit upside down. Literally.

With a quick shout, he gave Gates the command to raise him back up, halting the motion after only a few feet. Ryan vaguely registered Hawk's "what the hell are you up to?" floating down from above him, but he couldn't pay it any attention. Using his legs to push off from the side of the building, Ryan swung his body in a well-practiced move, flipping himself so he was head-down. It took him a blink to adjust-equilibrium was a bossy bitch-but then he saw his angle with perfect clarity.

He'd have to reach in from just the right spot to make this, and with how much time he didn't have left, he'd only have one shot.

He took it without thinking.

The changed angle of entry added just enough to his reach, and his gloved fingers made contact with the dummy. Grabbing hard, Ryan tugged it forward, guarding its head from the blunt edge of the windowsill as he pulled it free from the building to secure it against his body. He had no way of righting himself without inverting the dummy, but that was fine by him. He gave Gates the command to lower him, grinning at the receding sound of Hawk's laughter as he got to floor three, then two, then one. He passed the dummy off to Faurier, who shook his head and laughed, then flipped himself right-side-up. The redirect took his brain a couple of beats, which sounded oddly like applause.

Wait. It was applause.

"So, tell me," came a familiar, female voice from over his shoulder as the clapping faded away. "Were you born this impulsive, or did it happen over time?"

Ryan turned to look at Addison, his brain reminding the rest of him to not act like an eighth-grader at the sight of her standing there, all cute as hell in her red knit hat and quilted bomber jacket.

He shrugged, the residual adrenaline from the drill making him smile. "I'm adopted, remember? I'll never meet the people who know what I was like when I was born."

"Oh." Addison's light-green eyes went wide. "Crap. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Ryan knew it was rude to cut her off, but for this, it was important. "No worries. It's not a sore subject. Becoming part of my adoptive family is the best thing that's ever happened to me, so it's all good."

For a second, she looked genuinely confused, as if he'd been speaking a foreign language. But then she shook her head. "Anyway, that was pretty daring, up there."

"Daring is an occupational hazard in my line of work," Ryan said, going through the motions of removing his gear and stepping out of the harness that had him tethered to the anchor point on the roof. "One I'm sure you probably share a good portion of the time." "I have to take calculated risks from time to time, sure," Addison said. "But I guess I just don't tend to get that reckless."

For one hot second, Ryan was tempted to ask her if their night together was an exception to that little rule. But his pride didn't really want to know the answer, and it didn't matter anyway, so he just shrugged. "If you say so. Anyhow, something tells me this isn't a social visit, so..."

"Right." Addison nodded. "I'm sorry to bother you while you're on shift, but I wanted to

give you an update."

At this, she slid a glance in Faurier's direction. Ryan was ready to tell her she could say whatever she needed to in front of the guy-his squad-mates were just as much family as Chloe and Grace and the rest of the super-sized Dempsey brood. But Faurier shook his head.

"I'm going to go put this away before Hawk has a kitten." He held up the rescue dummy. "I'll let him know you need a minute."

"Thanks," Ryan said gratefully. After Faurier was out of earshot, he turned back toward Addison. "I'll be honest. I'm surprised you didn't just call me."

The corners of her mouth tilted in a wry smile that was far more attractive than Ryan had a right to notice. "And have to deal with you coming down to the precinct all broody and bossy tomorrow morning after your shift?"

Ryan laughed softly, because yeah, that was exactly what he'd planned to do. "Fair enough. You're pretty good at reading people, by the way."

"Part of the job," she said with a smile. But the expression only lasted for a beat before she grew serious. "So, I've already given Chloe an update, but Maxwell and I went out and talked to Bishop earlier today."

Ryan's heart went all mosh pit against his rib cage. "And? Did you arrest him?" The sooner this guy was behind bars, the sooner Chloe would be safe.

"I told you, it isn't that simple," Addison said. "He denies being anywhere near her last night, and he gave a plausible explanation for the night he showed up at her apartment building."

"Plausible?" Ryan said, the word battery acid in his mouth. "Please tell me you don't seriously believe whatever crap he told you."

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Ryan. Only what I can prove," Addison said with far more calm than he could handle right now.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he started to pace a tight loop on the asphalt in front of him. "So, Chloe's just supposed to wait until he does it again? Or is he going to have to hurt her for you to be able to actually do something?"

Before Ryan could anticipate that Addison would move, she'd slipped right into his dance space, her green eyes flashing up at him. "How about you cut the Neanderthal shit, Dempsey? You know me better than that. I didn't say I wasn't going to do anything. What I said was that Bishop's side of the story is reasonable in the eyes of the law."

Blinking, Ryan said, "Okay. What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, it could mean several things." Addison's calm returned, but she didn't move from her spot right in front of him. "Bishop claims he misread the situation and thought Chloe was interested romantically. He's wrong, clearly," she added before Ryan could jump in to say it, "but that doesn't mean he isn't just one jackass swimming in the great big ocean full of presumptuous male jackasses in this city."

"That's pretty cynical," Ryan said.

A single blond brow rose. "One word: Tinder."

Oh, fine. She had him, there. Still... "Bishop followed Chloe home last night. There's no 'misunderstanding' that."

"I agree," Addison said. "Except, he says he didn't. We're checking his alibi, which is that he was at home, working online. The unit is also going through video footage from street pods and security cams to see if we can place him on the route Chloe took home last night. But until we get proof that he's lying, there's nothing we can do but sit tight." Frustration sparked, low and hot in Ryan's veins. "This is my sister, Hale. She's f*****g terrified of this guy, and you want her to sit tight?"

"I want her to be vigilant," Addison corrected. "I've already talked to her about not going anywhere alone, and what she should do if she sees Bishop again. I believe her, Ryan, and my gut tells me Bishop is shifty, at best. But my gut isn't going to get Chloe a protective order, and it sure as hell isn't going to get us enough to bring charges against him that will stick. If I want to keep her safe in the long run-and I do-I have to do this by the book." God damn it, that made sense. "So, you got a bad feeling off Bishop?"

She paused. "Like I said, he might just be a d**k."

"But?"

Her hands went up in non-verbal deference. "Between us? His responses felt just a little too perfect to me. Almost as if he'd crafted them specifically to create enough doubt for us to back off." "You think he's lying about all of it?" Ryan asked.

"I think Chloe's safety is worth me digging as hard as I can to find out."

Finally, they were getting somewhere. "I want to dig, too. Help find out whatever we can to prove Bishop harassed her."

"Absolutely not," Addison said, her hair brushing the shoulders of her jacket with the force of her head shake.

"Come on. You just said you think Bishop isn't on the up and up," Ryan argued. "The more people you have looking for proof of that, the faster Chloe gets that protective order."

"Or-and go with me here, for a second-the judge tosses the request because the RPD let the alleged victim's hot-headed brother chuck procedure out the window."

Ryan clenched his jaw so he wouldn't let his frustration become a scream. "I can't just sit here and do nothing, okay? My family is everything to me, and Chloe..." He broke off, not wanting to air out his sister's personal business. "She had it rough before she came to live with us. Something like this could really mess her up if it escalates."

Addison took a step back on the pavement, examining him carefully through the waning daylight. "Look, this isn't exactly procedure, but as long as Sinclair is okay with it, I can meet with you on a regular basis to keep you updated on what we find. But you cannot go with me to do any digging, Dempsey. I mean it. You can't f**k around with an active investigation."

Ryan wanted to argue. Hell, he wanted to spend every waking moment following Myles Bishop from fifty feet away until he uncovered something, anything, that would put the guy solidly behind bars.

But as much as he hated it, he knew Addison was right. "Fine. Every morning, seven o'clock at the Fork in the Road diner."

"Awesome," she said, her smile turning bright. "You're buying. And for the record? I can eat a lot of pancakes."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him to wonder what the hell he'd just agreed to.