Gabe's hands were steady on the wheel as he flipped on the lights, his gorgeous profile sharp in the dash lights.
He glanced at her. "Whatever happens tonight, I've got your back."
The words should have been comforting. They weren't.
Because the man promising to protect her was the same man who'd arrest her if he knew the truth.
And she was falling for him anyway.
24
The fog rolledthick enough to drown in as Cara sat in the passenger seat of Tom's truck, watching mist swallow the warehouse district one building at a time. Eleven forty-five. The world had reduced to headlight beams cutting through gray nothing, shadows that might be buildings or imagination, and the steady drum of her pulse in her ears.
Gabe killed the engine two blocks from their target and parked behind a cluster of storage containers that loomed like metal ghosts in the darkness.
"Last chance to stay in the car." He checked his Glock.
"Not happening."
He looked at her then, really looked, like he was trying to read the truth underneath the baker's apron and forced smiles and six months of carefully constructed normalcy.
She met his gaze without flinching. Steady. Unblinking. Lying without saying a single word.
"Stay behind me," he said finally. "Follow my lead. If something goes wrong, you run. Don't look back. Don't try to help. Just run."
"Okay."
The lie tasted familiar on her tongue. If something went wrong, she'd do whatever was necessary to keep them both alive, even if it meant exposing skills she'd spent six months hiding behind flour dust and Sunday services.
They climbed out into air cold enough to steal breath. The scent hit her immediately: salt and diesel and the particular smell of industrial decay that clung to abandoned waterfront properties. The warehouse loomed ahead through the fog, its bulk darker than the surrounding darkness.
Cara's old instincts kicked in before she could stop them. Her eyes swept the perimeter, noting exit routes and cataloging blind spots. She moved through the shadows with muscle memory that had nothing to do with baking bread, her body remembering how to be invisible in dangerous places.
She caught herself after three steps and forced her movements to be less fluid, more hesitant. More like someone who'd never done surveillance work in her life.
But Gabe had already noticed. She felt his attention sharpen beside her, felt him filing away details she couldn't afford to give him.
His phone buzzed softly. He pulled it out. “Nakamura came through,” he said, turning the phone so she could see.
The text was incredibly detailed. Camera blind spots with exact timestamps. Security guard break schedule down to the minute. Weak point in the northeast section of fence. Which door had a broken lock that wouldn't trigger the alarm system.
The level of information went way beyond what someone could find in public records or casual observation. This was reconnaissance data compiled by someone who understood security systems intimately.
"He's very thorough," Cara said, keeping her voice neutral.
Gabe pocketed the phone without responding, but she saw the calculation in his eyes. Tom had just been added to a mental list of people whose backgrounds required deeper investigation.
They reached the side entrance exactly where Tom had indicated. The door sat in the deepest shadow, furthest from the working security lights, in a blind spot that shouldn't exist unless someone had planned it that way.
Cara pulled out her lockpick set before Gabe could offer to force the door. The worn leather case felt comfortable in her hands, familiar in a way that would definitely raise questions if he thought about it too hard.
"I've got this."
She crouched beside the lock and inserted the tension wrench, applying just enough pressure. The rake went in smoothly. She felt for the pins with practiced precision, muscle memory taking over despite her attempts to slow down. Pin one clicked. Pin two. Three. Four.
The lock opened in twenty-eight seconds.
She could have done it in fifteen, but that would have been too fast. Even twenty-eight seconds was probably suspicious for someone who claimed YouTube tutorials as their only teacher.
