Dangerously Yours

Chapter Five

*Two Days Earlier*

The training facility at Nyx Operatives smelled like sweat, gun oil, and ambition. Veronica hit the punching bag one last time, hard enough to make the chain rattle, before stepping back, breathing controlled despite the hour she'd been at it.

"Show-off!" a voice called in a sing-like manner, from across the gym.

She grabbed her water bottle, turning to find Kyle Martinez leaning against the weight rack. Built like a tank and grinning like an i***t.

"Jealousy's ugly on you, Martinez."

"Not jealous. Concerned." He walked over, arms crossed. "You've been here since five. Again."

"So have you."

"Yeah, but I'm trying to make senior operative. You already are one." He nodded toward the bag. "What's got you wound up?"

Veronica didn't answer, just took another drink. The truth was she didn't know. Restlessness, maybe. The feeling that she was waiting for something without knowing what.

"Nova!" Another voice, this time female, sharp with humor. "Stop torturing the equipment and get over here!"

Veronica looked toward the locker room entrance. Sarah Kim stood there in tactical gear, dark hair pulled back, expression half-amused and half-exasperated. Behind her, Derek Williams leaned against the doorframe, tall and lean, with the kind of face that made people trust him. Useful in their line of work.

"We're grabbing breakfast," Sarah said. "Real food, not whatever protein sludge you've been living on."

"I'm fine—"

"That wasn't a question." Sarah was already walking toward her. "Come on. Derek's buying."

"Why am I buying?" Derek protested.

"Because you lost the bet last week."

"That shooting trial was rigged—"

"You missed center mass by three inches. Nova hit it blind."

Veronica smiled despite herself. This was the part of the job she'd miss if she ever left; the people who understood what it meant to live on the edge of someone else's life, always watching, always ready.

"Fine," she said. "But I need to shower first."

"We'll wait," Sarah said. "You've got ten minutes before we leave without you."

Veronica made it in eight.

Twenty minutes later they were crammed into a booth at Angelo's, the diner three blocks from headquarters that survived almost entirely on Nyx operatives and insomniacs. Coffee arrived before they'd even sat down; black for Veronica, too much cream for Sarah, straight espresso for Derek because he claimed regular coffee was for amateurs.

"So," Sarah said, stealing a fry from Derek's plate before he could stop her. "Heard Jenkins wants to see you."

Veronica paused, coffee halfway to her lips. "Where'd you hear that?"

"I have sources."

"You eavesdropped outside his office."

"Semantics." Sarah grinned. "What's it about?"

"No idea." Veronica set down her cup. "Probably another overseas assignment. Maybe Dubai again."

"God, I hope so," Derek said. "Bring me back something expensive."

"Bring yourself. Apply for international rotation."

"And leave you two unsupervised? This place would fall apart."

They fell into easy conversation; old missions, new recruits, who was sleeping with who in the tactical division. Normal. Comfortable. The kind of friendship that came from trusting someone with your life on a regular basis.

Veronica's phone buzzed.

*Jenkins needs you. Now.* The message was from admin. *Bring your go-bag.*

Sarah noticed her expression. "That's not a Dubai face."

"I have to go." Veronica dropped cash on the table, already standing. "Jenkins called."

"With the go-bag?" Derek frowned. "That's immediate deployment."

"Apparently."

"Be careful," Sarah said, and the humor had dropped from her voice. "Last three immediate deployments ended up on the news."

Veronica nodded, already heading for the door.

---

Jenkins's office was on the top floor, all windows and steel, designed to intimidate. It worked. The man himself sat behind a desk that probably cost more than her annual salary, silver hair perfectly styled, suit probably Italian.

He'd founded Nyx Operatives fifteen years ago. Built it from nothing into the most elite private security firm in the country. People said he had connections everywhere; government, military, private sector. People also said you didn't want to cross him.

Veronica had never had reason to try.

"Ashford." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."

She sat, back straight, hands folded. Professional.

"I'll get straight to it," Jenkins said. "High-profile client. Three assassination attempts in two months, escalating in severity. Today's attempt was in broad daylight, corporate office, fortified building. Shooter escaped."

"Client's identity?"

"Raymond Jules. Heir to Jules Enterprises."

Veronica kept her expression neutral. She knew the name, everyone did. Billionaire family, political connections, the kind of wealth that made laws feel optional.

"What's the threat assessment?" she asked.

"Sophisticated. Organized. Well-funded." Jenkins slid a folder across the desk. "Someone wants him dead, and they're not being subtle anymore. His parents are paying premium rates for premium protection. They asked for you specifically."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the best." Jenkins leaned back. "Zero failures. Spotless record. And you can handle difficult clients."

That last part sounded like a warning.

Veronica opened the folder. Photos of Raymond Jules stared back at her; charity galas, business meetings, nightclub candids that probably cost someone their job. Handsome in that wealthy, untouchable way. The kind of face that knew it could get away with anything.

She'd protected men like him before. They were always the worst clients, arrogant, reckless, convinced their money made them invincible.

"I'm not interested," she said, closing the folder.

Jenkins raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Billionaire playboy with a target on his back?" Veronica shook her head. "He'll fight me every step. Make my job impossible. I don't have the patience for that right now."

"You don't have a choice."

The words landed cold and final.

Veronica looked up sharply. "Sir—"

"His parents are paying triple your rate. Triple, Nova." Jenkins's expression didn't change. "That money funds this entire operation for the next quarter. Training. Equipment. Salaries. You want Martinez to make senior operative? This contract makes that possible."

"You're saying if I refuse—"

"I'm saying this isn't a request." Jenkins stood, moving to the window. "You're the only one qualified who's available. Sarah's in Prague. Derek's on medical leave after that clusterfuck in Boston. It's you or we lose the contract to a competitor."

Veronica felt the walls closing in. "How long?"

"Until the threat is neutralized. Could be weeks. Could be months." He turned back. "His parents want someone embedded. Full access. You'll live in his space, control his schedule, coordinate with local law enforcement. Complete immersion."

God. That was worse.

"When do I start?"

"Tonight. Eight p.m." Jenkins returned to his desk, picking up another folder, thicker than the previous file. "Background check. Financial records. Known associates. Everything you need to know about Raymond Jules."

Veronica took it, the weight of it heavy in her hands.

"One more thing," Jenkins said as she stood to leave. "The client's... resistant to protection. His words, not mine. Try not to kill him before someone else does."

Veronica gave out a groan, already picturing the stress that will come with the job.

She left the office with both folders tucked under her arm and a headache building behind her eyes. She needed coffee. She needed to pack. She needed...

"Well?" Derek appeared from around the corner, startling her. "How bad?"

"You were listening."

"Obviously." He fell into step beside her. "High-profile billionaire assignment. Could be worse."

"Could be better."

They walked in silence for a moment before Derek spoke again, voice quieter. "You want me to dig?"

Veronica glanced at him. Derek had a gift for finding information that didn't want to be found; connections, backgrounds, secrets buried under money and lawyers. It had saved their lives more than once.

"The client?" she asked.

"The family. Jules Enterprises has been around for forty years. That's a lot of history. A lot of enemies." He pulled out his phone, already typing. "Give me two hours. I'll have everything that's not in the official file."

"Derek—"

"I know. Plausible deniability. If Jenkins asks, you didn't request this." He grinned. "I'm just a concerned friend doing research in my spare time."

"You're on medical leave."

"Which means I have lots of spare time." He grinned, already walking backward toward the tech wing. "Check your secure email in two hours. And Nova?"

She stopped.

"Be careful with this one," Derek said, serious now. "Families like that..." he paused, as if weighing what he wants to say. "They don't get rich by being nice. There's always bodies somewhere."

He disappeared around the corner before she could respond.

Veronica stood there for a long moment, folders in hand, staring at nothing.

Then she headed home to pack her things.

---

Derek's email arrived ninety minutes later while she was loading her go-bag.

*Subject: Jules Family—The Interesting Parts*

*Nova,*

*Dug into the Jules family history. Most of it's standard billionaire bullshit; real estate, tech investments, political donations that buy influence. But I found something weird.*

*Thirty-seven years ago, Roberto Jules (Raymond's father) was investigated in connection with a missing woman. Helena Ashford. Case went cold fast, no evidence, no witnesses, conveniently misplaced files. Money makes things disappear, apparently.*

*Here's the thing: Helena Ashford was employed by the Jules family. Household staff. She vanished without a trace, no record of her after 1988.*

*Attaching what I could find. It's not much. But that last name...*

*You see it too, right?*

*Be safe.*

*—D*

Veronica's hands stopped moving.

Helena Ashford.

The name burned itself into her vision, impossible to unsee.

She opened the attachment with fingers that had gone numb.

A photograph loaded. Old, slightly faded—the kind scanned from physical records. It showed the Jules family at some event. Roberto and Amelia, younger, smiling. And in the background, almost out of frame...

A woman in a household uniform. Dark hair. Green eyes.

Veronica knew that face.

She'd seen it in exactly one photograph, kept in a box under her bed because she couldn't bear to look at it more often.

Her mother.

The room tilted.

Helena Ashford. Missing since 1988. Employed by the Jules family.

Her mother had worked for the people she was about to protect.

Her mother had disappeared while working for them.

Veronica sat down hard on her bed, staring at the photo until her eyes burned.

This wasn't coincidence.

This was a door opening to answers she'd been searching for her entire life.

She looked at the go-bag. At the folders Jenkins had given her. At the clock that said she had two hours before she had to be at Raymond Jules's building.

Then she picked up her phone and called Jenkins.

"I'll take the assignment," she said when he answered.

"You already accepted."

"I know. I just wanted you to know I'm all in." She kept her voice steady. Professional. "Whatever it takes. However long it takes."

Jenkins paused. "Good. Don't make me regret this, Ashford."

"I won't, Sir."

She hung up and stared at the photo of her mother one more time.

*I'm going to find out what happened to you,* she thought. *Even if I have to tear that family apart to do it.*

Then she finished packing and headed out to meet Raymond Jules.