“Push the big red button,” James said.
Kit raised his hand, then hesitated. “The one that says Do Not Push?”
James leaned over, his chest pressing against Kit’s shoulder blades. He lightly gripped the back of Kit’s hand. “I’m hilarious, aren’t I? I can push it if it makes you nervous.”
James couldn’t see it, but the eyeroll practically echoed around the van. Kit decisively jabbed the button, and the van’s interior lit up with a constellation of screens. Blue and white flickered, then settled into camera feeds.
The desk, built-in chair, and equipment took up the front half of the van, with bench seating in the back. That was useful when someone wanted to rest on long stakeouts. James contemplated blowing off some steam instead—but there was no time.
“Let me take the seat, babe,” James said, with a soft kiss in Kit’s hair.
Kit slid out of the way as James reluctantly let go. Settling onto the padded chair, James started confirming the feeds all connected to the correct cameras.
“Is Terry there yet?” Kit asked, eyes flitting from screen to screen. He always liked calling targets by their name. Like Melissa Vespers.
James tapped a few keys, his heart rate settling with each click. Excitement sharpened into watchfulness. The feeds came from security cameras all around and inside Cicada. James ran the past few hours of the front door feed through a rapid scanner—and got a hit from the facial recognition.
Zoom in. Play a few seconds for a better angle. Zoom in again.
“There,” James said, smug, and pulled out his phone to text Holden.
James:he’s in, with a five-minute head start
Holden sent back a ferris wheel emoji.
“What the fuck does that mean?” James demanded. “Fuck, I don’t understand slang anymore.”
Kit leaned over his shoulder. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just fucking with you.”
“Fuck.” James flipped off the blurry image of Holden crossing one of the more distant feeds. “I thought Darius was annoying.”
At least Holden appeared to be moving on schedule. Working with Holden was a risk. James still didn’t like the guy. But he understood Holden, which was more important. The aggravating piece of shit was clear about what he wanted.
And he was a quick learner, which made him perfect for the job in more than one way.
Kit twisted his sweatshirt off, revealing a loose black tank top.
“Is it too warm in here?” James asked.
Hair mussed, Kit peered at the screens again. “I’m good now.”
James leaned over, bumping his shoulder against Kit. “So I should turn the heat up and see if you take more clothes off.”
This time, he could see Kit’s eyeroll.
“Why aren’t you handling this yourself?” Kit asked. “You’re usually more hands-on.”
James stood for a better view of the top feeds. Less important angles, but it paid to be thorough. “Terry might recognize me, especially since he works for Nazario. I’m very famous around San Corvo. It’s even possible we’ve met in person.”
“Possible?”
James sighed. “Look, I try to acknowledge the help’s existence. But Nazario has so many assistants.” Eyes still on the monitors, James added, “Also, the club is too crowded for precise footage-tweaking. If anything goes wrong, I’ll have to wipe everything. That will look too fucking suspicious if I’m at Cicada.”
The CEO of San Corvo Security happened to be at a club when their system malfunctioned?
That kind of PR disaster would draw too many eyes.
Ideally it wouldn’t matter. If everything went according to plan, Holden would return Terry’s phone before he realized it had been stolen.
