Gideon shrugs. “Night shift still has guards, and we don’t want them to know what we’re after. Someone in uniform could walk in, flash a fake requisition, and walk out with the files in less than five minutes.”
My fingers drift to the eyepatch, tracing the edge as my unease coils tighter. “I’m not exactly forgettable.”
He glances at the patch, then dips his head in reluctant agreement. “Take it or leave it, but that’s the price for what I know.”
Once again, I consider finding a way to separate them so I can steal what I need from his egotistical little brain. My gaze drifts to the top of his head, then over to Leif as I imagine the fallout.
This is a stalemate.
I’m out of moves without sacrificing my queen, and Gideon’s slow smirk says he knows I’m cornered.
“Can I have some time to think it over?” I ask after a heated pause.
He nods and reaches for the doorknob. “Don’t take too long. Clock’s ticking.”
Xeni
“Clock’sticking,yeah,”Imutter under my breath as I weave through the streets, head dipped so my hair shadows the eyepatch. “Stupid fucking saying. Of course it’s ticking. What else is a clock supposed to do? Damn redheaded idiot.”
A woman beside me huffs, and when I glance over, her eyes are narrowed on me.
“Not you,” I grunt as I gesture around us. “Not evenhim, really. I’m the idiot here.”
She only looks more alarmed.
I groan and pick up my pace, putting much needed space between us. The streets are packed, which is exactly why I timed this escapade for the lunch rush. Workers are more interested in their break plans than in whoever walks through the door. It’ll be easier to slip in, slip out, and be forgotten.
These side streets aren’t as crowded, and there are even fewer pedestrians when the office comes into view at the end of the block. It’s an unremarkable two-story brick building, just like Gideon described. A six-foot metal fence rings the perimeter, but it’s more decoration than defense.
No razor wire or humming current.
Nothing that would give this place away as being anything special, but I don’t drop my guard.
I draw one last steadying breath, then let the mask settle. My shoulders loosen, my expression turns unbothered, and a hint of a flirtatious grin tugs at my mouth. The weight of the old disguise presses against my chest, sharp for a moment, but I’ve been wearing it for so long it’s familiar.
The guard at the gate looks up as I approach. She returns my smile with one that’s professional and brief, then barely glances at my ID before waving me through.
Inside, the lobby is concrete floors and a stretch of redwood counters manned by bored employees, and a few heads lift as I step closer. A Ramves male at the far end tilts his head curiously, but the Aidresh right in front of me gestures me over with a practiced, weary smile.
“How can I help you?” she asks, the politeness thin.
I force the flirty off my face and keep the charm dialed low. She’s not in the mood for games, and neither am I, really.
“Afternoon,” I say, sliding the forged requisition across the counter. “I need to pick up schedules for next week’s incoming shipments.”
One of her brows lifts by just a fraction, but I chuckle and shake my head like we’re sharing some grand joke.
“Annoying, right?” I ask. “Someone thought dumping a pile of fresh recruits at the main gate during rush was a good idea. It’s a total mess up there. I figured grabbing these might score a few points with the brass.”
Her mouth softens into faint amusement as she takes the paper, and my pulse kicks up the moment it leaves my fingers. Gideon swore his stolen letterheads and signatures would pass, down to the right names and authorization codes, but I haven’t had time to double-check. I’m betting everything on a man who can barely stand the sight of me, and can only hope his need to finish the job outweighs his very real desire to toss me to the wolves.
As she scans the page, I let my gaze drift so I’m not hovering, and it lands on the Ramves male again. He’s still watching me, head tilted like he’s trying to place something. Familiarity prickles at the back of my neck, but I can’t pin it down.
Paranoia, probably.
I flash him a quick, casual smile to test the waters.
He dips his chin in acknowledgment, then turns back to his screen. Nothing more.
