“You’re going to…break into my system?” My voice rises, and I curse under my breath. “Dammit. Sorry. But when we upgraded our firewall last year, we hired the best.”
“I’m not going to ‘break in,” she says. “I’m going to ‘break out.’ Give me the specs of your firewall. Company, software version, all that jazz. And then let me work my magic for a few hours. Tomorrow, if you can install a tiny little program on one of your servers…we’ll have the back door we need. Trust me, Evianna. This is what I do.”
“Okay. You’ll have the information within the hour.”
25
Dax
An entire day scanning Kyle’s notebook pages has produced little in the way of leads, even with Wren translating the tech-speak. References to subroutines and shadow code are frequent, but we need Evianna to help put the pieces together.
It’s a nice evening, and so a little after seven, I walk the five blocks from Second Sight to Beacon Hill Technologies. The traffic rumbles to my left, the scent of exhaust wafting through the air, but underneath, there’s a sweetness I haven’t smelled in a year. Lilacs.
The memories threaten, but they’re muted. Faded now with time and the loss of my sight. One of the first years I lived in Boston, before I signed up for Special Forces training, I brought my mother to the arboretum at Harvard for their Lilac Festival. One of the last happy times I spent with her before I deployed and everything changed.
Her face is nothing but a blur now, though I can still sometimes hear her laugh. But the flowers…the flowers are gone. My eyes burn, and I stop at the curb, wondering what else I’ve lost.
All the memory tricks Ryker taught me in Hell…they only work for new memories. The sights and sounds of my youth, all those images I’d filed away, to be pulled out when I was low or in pain…soon, they’ll all be gone.
I’ll never see lilacs again. But…maybe I don’t have to. The light turns, and I sweep my cane in front of me as I double-time it to Evianna’s building. She can steady me. And maybe…if she agrees to a little detour before we go back to the hotel, I can find a way to tell her what she means to me.
Clive hails me when I’m about to open her building’s outer door. “Dax! Hold up.”
“Status report,” I say quietly when he’s at my side.
“All clear. I’ve been outside since 2:00 p.m. and haven’t seen anyone suspicious. Normal businessmen and women coming and going. A twenty-something bringing in a big sheet cake, pizza delivery. You want me to get the car?”
“Yes. I’ll wait for Evianna inside. I just texted her, so she should be down in five minutes. And, Clive?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“I want to take Evianna to the arboretum before we go back to the hotel. Do you have time to shadow us for an hour?”
“Yep. I’ll text Ronan to let him know.”
I clap him on the shoulder in thanks and head inside.
The elevator dings, and her heels click across the tile floor. Before she can ask, I hold out my arm, and when she melts against me, something in my world shifts in a way I can’t explain.
“I…missed you, darlin’,” I whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry…about this morning.”
“Just get me out of here, please.” Her voice isn’t steady, and I want nothing more than to lift her into my arms and carry her to the car. But I’d trip, drop her, and fall on my face, so I settle for pressing my lips to her neck.
“Did something happen?”
Straightening, I take her elbow so she can guide me to the car, but the elevator dings again, and a booming voice calls her name. “Evianna, wait.”
“My boss,” Evianna whispers as she straightens her shoulders and turns. “Noah, did you need something?”
“An introduction? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
His tone grates along my spine, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Entitled. Like he’s owed an explanation. Or first right of fucking refusal. The man’s cologne carries a too-sweet scent—one I think I’ve smelled before—and I have to force myself not to wrinkle my nose. “Dax Holloway,” I say, holding out my hand.
“Noah Goset.” His clammy fingers barely hold any strength, and I make sure to squeeze—hard—and his next words are slightly strained. “What do you do, Dax?”
“I run a think tank.” The lie flows easily, and I incline my head towards Evianna. “We’ll miss our reservation if we don’t head out. You’ll excuse us, Noah?”
“Don’t let me keep you. I’ll see you tomorrow, though—Dax?—was it? You’re coming to the party, aren’t you? For Alfie’s release?” I must look confused, because he clucks his tongue. “Don’t tell me Evianna hasn’t already invited you?”
