It’s Saturday evening, just before six, and the restaurant is bustling with pre-party preparations. Alice Buchanan—who is a stone-cold bitch 99% of the time—stopped by about half an hour ago and gave the place a final once-over while Alexa stood next to her, nervously biting on her cuticles when she thought Mrs. Buchanan wasn’t looking.

Mrs. Buchanan was obviously reluctant to admit it, but she said she was impressed. Alexa instantly stood a little taller and gave me a relieved smile as I pointed out our security precautions. Some of the public anger toward her husband has subsided, but she understandably doesn’t want to take any chances with her only daughter. I do my best to put her mind at ease.

As the clock ticks closer to eight Alexa’s anxiety ramps up to eleven. She’s fiddling with centerpieces and going over serving plans with the wait staff for the hundredth time. They go along, even though I can tell it’s a struggle for some of them, sitting through so many run-throughs.

In the short time that I’ve known Alexa, I’ve gotten used to reading her cues, so I know she’s looking for an outlet to get rid of the nervous energy that she’s desperately trying—and failing—to hide.

There’s still a few minutes until the party officially starts, so I catch her near the kitchen in a rare moment of rest and pull her into a dark corner behind a cart stacked with serving trays.

She lets out a little squeak of surprise as I press her against the wall, but she realizes the situation pretty quickly and responds enthusiastically. I kiss her, and she grips my lapels as she presses her tongue against mine. It’s hot and heavy and we get carried away pretty quickly; Alexa’s hands find their way into my hair, and she gently tugs at the nape of my neck the way she knows I like. I kiss my way down to her collarbone, making sure I pay special attention to my favorite parts of her neck along the way.

“The party is going to be a success,” I tell her, sucking on her skin, pressing reassuring kisses all the places I can reach and still be decent. It’s difficult for me not to hike up her skirt and go exploring now that I know what’s waiting for me under her dress, but there’s plenty of time for indecency when I get her home tonight. “It’s going to be a success, and later…”

“Yeah,” she says breathily, pulling on my tie. “Tell me about later.”

“We’re gonna celebrate. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” I push my fingertips along the hem of her dress, paying close attention to the way her breathing stutters.

“Always make me feel good,” she replies, her head lolling back against the wall as I tug her earlobe between my teeth.

There’s a loud crash to our left, and Alexa hides her face in my neck, laughing because she thinks we’ve been caught.

No one’s around, so I whisper, “All clear.”

Alexa gives me another kiss, then wipes her lipstick off my lips with her thumb. “Where are you going to be tonight?”

“I’ll be around,” I reply. I’m planning on walking the perimeter, and spending a little time inside, too. My job isn’t just keeping the party safe from outside threats; I also need to make sure no one does something stupid, like spike the punch and then go for a joyride. “If you need me, call. Or shout,” I laugh. “Otherwise I’ll see you after.”

She reluctantly steps out of my embrace. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’ll make sure to make it a night worth looking forward to.” I give her a quick kiss, then head off to do one last check before the party starts.

The night passes by in a blur. I’ve forgotten what a pain in the ass teenagers can be. Doing my rounds was like an obstacle course in adolescent stupidity: feeling each other up in plain view, two kids not even trying to be coy about dumping a bottle of Jameson they stole from their parents’ liquor cabinet into the punch. And I found all that just when I came inside after checking on my guys outside. Who knows what I’ve missed.

The level of security Mrs. Buchanan requested is a little overboard in my opinion, but I take this party as seriously as I would any other job. For the first time in a long while—as long as I can remember—I enjoy this job for what it is, instead of looking to get myself involved in something more prestigious. I finally understand what Hunter’s been trying to drill into my thick skull for a while: every job is meaningful when it involves protecting someone’s life. Riley Buchanan’s birthday party is just as important as any other case I’ve ever worked on, and there isn’t any shame in that. The guys I’m working with feel the same way too, which makes it easy to be the team lead.

Everything here is going smoothly, and it feels good doing my part in making sure Hunter’s company runs smoothly while he’s off on his honeymoon.

Alexa is a force to be reckoned with when she’s in action. She makes sure the kids are behaving, and holds her own with the women in Alice Buchanan’s social circle. They’re all gathered in the private party room in back, drinking wine, oblivious to the fun their kids are having on the other side of the soundproof wall.

Mrs. Buchanan asked for updates through the night, and when I was in there last I heard one of her friends asking for Alexa’s number for help planning her 50^th birthday party. The kids seem to love her too, and she knows exactly what to have the DJ play.

Together, we manage to keep everything under control and running smoothly.

She’s so focused that she rarely has a second to spare, but I catch her eye a few times through the night, and she gives me smiles full of promises for later.

I can’t believe I spent so much time thinking I couldn’t have this. I didn’t think I could ever be happy like I am now.

What a waste of time the past year was.

The party rages on until well past midnight, when the kids slowly filter out into chauffeured cars without incident. Alice thanks me, lets me know she’s going to let Hunter know how seamlessly our team worked tonight. After a quick debriefing with my guys, they make a beeline for the leftover food at the buffet. A small cleaning crew comes to put the place back to rights like Alexa promised in the lease, and I stay behind to help her collect some of her own stuff that she used for the party.

“I think this went really well,” she says, pushing up onto her tiptoes to grab a string of lights off the DJ stand.

“It did,” I reply, grinning down at her as I reach over and get the lights for her. “You did amazing.”

She blushes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” She’s smiling, and so happy. Completely light. I love seeing her this way.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, leaning in closer. Only the cleaning crew is around, but I ask just to be sure. “I don’t want to be unprofessional in front of your employees, but I can’t wait much longer.”

“Hmmmm,” she hums with a playful grin, taking her time like she’s considering my question. She bites her lip—that’s gonna be the death of me—then tilts her chin and presses her lips against mine.

It’s soft and sweet, but she slides her hand up my chest, and mine gets caught in her hair, and things get a little too heated very quickly.

She breaks away, breathless. She smiles as I hand her the lights, then twirls them around her arm.

“Can you get the rest of these strings while I run some stuff out to my car?” she asks, pointing at the other strings of lights still hanging.

There’s only about 5 or 6. I can make quick work of it.

“Anything that gets us out of here and into bed quicker,” I tease, reaching for the ladder that’s leaning against the wall.

She waggles her eyebrows, then picks up a few bags and heads to the back.

I make quick work of the lights, and when I notice the time—it’s taken me 10 minutes—I’m surprised Alexa hasn’t come back in yet.

I head into the kitchen, thinking I’ll find her munching on the hors d’oeuvres she couldn’t keep her hands off of when the party was getting set up.

Nothing.

I catch a guy whose name is Stuart—I think. I’ve seen him around a few times tonight, but we’ve barely spoken. He’s scrubbing down these giant metal prep tables in the middle of the kitchen. “Hey, have you seen Alexa?”

“She went out that way,” he says, nodding toward the open door that leads out the back of the building, into the alley where Alexa parked her car.

I head out and see her hatch is wide open. I figure she’s in the front fiddling with something, and I make my way around the vehicle.

There, just beyond the hood and in the shadows, a man has his arms caged around her. She’s shrinking back against the wall, terrified.

I don’t even think, I just move.