“Agreed.” Sam nodded, staring hard at the photo on the monitor. He could make out Hannah’s form huddled against his back and shuddered at the memory of just how bitterly cold it had been and howlittleprotection she’d had against that cold.
“I’ve also been monitoring the online chatter surrounding the escape,” Ozzie added. “Seems the feds consider Miss Blue public enemy numero uno. They’ve just looped in local law enforcement and put out an APB.”
“It’s no wonder,” Hannah said from the bottom of the stairs. “Red Square is demanding half a billion dollars from Dominion or they’re threatening to shut down the pipeline. The FBI is convinced I can help them get to Red Square before that happens.”
Sam hadn’t realized the sweatshirt he’d taken from his closet was the one he’d gotten in 2014 when his favorite first basemen, Paul Konerko, had retired from baseball.
Or maybe hehadrealized it, subconsciously. Maybe somewhere in the far reaches of his mind he’dchosenhis most cherished hoodie for her because he felt like wrapping her in something thatmeantsomething to him.
Regardless, he’d never be able to wear the hoodie again without thinking of her and the way she looked right then with the sleeves pushed up her forearms and the hem hanging nearly to her knees.
Whatwasit about a woman wearing a man’s shirt that made that man’s inner caveman roar to life?
Was it just that it was a stark reminder that the fairer sex tended to be physically smaller? Was it somehow tied to growing up in a patriarchal society and therefore it made a man feel proprietary? Like,she’s wearing my shirt, and that’s a signal to all you bastards she’s mine.Or was it something as simple as knowing that something that had touched his skin was now touching hers?
Whatever the reason, he decided he’d never seen Hannah looking more beautiful.
“Hannah.” He was quick to escort her over to where Ozzie reigned supreme. “Let me introduce you to Ozzie. You two have a lot in common. He’s a white hat hacker too.”
Ozzie grimaced as he pushed up from his rolling chair to shake her hand. “I mean, I’m not sure my enemies would label me such. To them I’m definitely a threat actor.”
“And I’m Fisher, by the way,” Fisher called from his seat at the conference table. “We met unofficially earlier, but I reckon we can make it official now. Good to see ya with some color in your cheeks.” He stood and pulled out the chair next to him, indicating with a flourish that Hannah should sit there.
If it were possible to kill a man with a look, Sam would’ve put Fisher six feet under.
“Thanks for the ride earlier,” Hannah told Fisher as Sam steered her unerringly toward the chair next tohisspot at the conference table.
“Happy to oblige.” Fisher inclined his head toward Hannah. Then he shot Sam a knowing grin before adding, “If you’re ever up for another…ride, just say the word.”
Hannah blinked, startled by Fisher’s blatant flirting.
When Sam spoke, it was more of a snarl. “For fuck’s sake, Fish. I’m starting to wish that Colombian had had a better aim.”
“What Colombian?” Hannah glanced back and forth between them.
“The one who tried to shoot Fish’s dick off,” Sam clarified.
When her eyes automatically pinged down to Fisher’s fly, Sam instantly regretted his words.
But Fisher? The bastard’s grin only widened.
“Not sure how the man managed to miss such a large target,” Fisher drawled. “But I thank my lucky stars he did.”
“You’ll have to excuse Fisher,” Eliza said from her seat at the head of the table. “He’s great for reconnaissance. Which is why we keep him around. But his mental maturity was stunted. And now he’s basically a thirteen-year-old boy stuck in thirty-four-year-old’s body.”
“Got to take the good with the bad,” Fisher submitted, completely unphased by Eliza’s recrimination.
Sam pulled out Hannah’s chair and waited for her to sink into it before taking his own seat. When he shoved the mug of hot chocolate in front of her, he hoped to distract her from the flirty smile Fisher sent her way.
“Get a couple sips of that in you,” he instructed, “and then fill us in on what’s going on. Upstairs you said I only know half the story.”
She nodded before tipping the mug to her lips. Her tentative sip turned into a gulp.
“Holy shit,” she gasped. “That’s the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thank you.” Eliza beamed. “The trick is to use a mixture of cocoa powder and chocolate chips.”
“Mmm.” Hannah took another healthy slug and then grunted when Peanut jumped into her lap.
