His pupils dilate, but he keeps his reaction contained. “When?”
“Tonight. After the job.” The decision crystallizes as I speak it. “We can talk to her in the morning.”
Tension bleeds from Rowan’s frame.
“You should go prepare. I’ll reinstate the files.” He steps back, his fingers caressing my chin before they fall away. “Security meeting at four. Full crew briefing.”
I nod, touching the cheap nape guard at my throat, and Rowan tracks the movement, his breath catching before he drags his attention away.
“I’ll be in the security room if you need me before the meeting.” I turn toward the door that leads to the back of the Blue Note, his stare on my back as I walk away.
Behind me, ice clinks as Rowan downs his whiskey in a single swallow.
23
The security rotation creates a beautiful chaos of badges scanning, radio chatter bursting in controlled intervals, and doors clicking open then shut.
I count under my breath, tracking the pattern I studied for weeks. Three guards exit through the west door while two more enter from the east, creating a seven-second window.
Perfection.
“Six, five, four…” The numbers fall from my lips in a quiet rhythm while my fingers tap the case containing my tools.
Saint and Orien flank our unmarked van, wearing maintenance uniforms that match the company contracted for the building. Rowan stands behind me,his breath warm on my neck, his body a solid presence without crowding mine.
“Three, two, one… First wave clear.” I track the monitors through the van’s tinted window. The timing plays out as I predicted. “Ready for insertion.”
Rowan touches the comm in his ear. “Positions.”
The crew confirms in quick succession.
“My turn.” I grab my toolkit, slinging the strap over my shoulder. “You good with the route changes?”
Rowan pulls his black cap lower. “Second left corridor, north stairwell, server access through maintenance. Seven minutes, thirty seconds total. I have it memorized.”
Frigid winter air burns my lungs as I slip from the van. The metallic tang of fresh snow and vehicle exhaust mingles with adrenaline in the back of my throat. My boots crunch on the salted pavement, the rubber soles with their specialized treads chosen for this operation.
The service entrance looms ahead, a nondescript metal door with a keycard reader that flashes red in silent warning. Not for long. I time my approach to coincide with the next rotation of four night-shift guards arriving as the three from the day shift depart.
My heart beats a steady rhythm. This calm focusis what Rowan pays me for. What he trusts me to maintain, even after our fight, even after I walked out, even after I came back.
“East entrance, badge activity.” Rowan’s voice comes through my earpiece. “Thirty seconds.”
I tuck myself into the shadow of a massive HVAC unit, its vibration humming through my body. The electronic ping of badges scanning echoes across the loading area, followed by the heavier sound of the security door opening.
“Now.”
I slip from cover and fall in step behind a security guard whose attention remains fixed on his phone. My fingers extract the signal cloner from my pocket, activating it as I pass within range of his badge. The device vibrates once to confirm capture.
The keycard reader accepts the cloned signal, flashing green as the service door unlocks. No alarms. No hesitation. Just access, clean and simple.
Inside, fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows that dance across the institutional beige walls. The corridor stretches before me, cameras positioned at calculated intervals. I’ve memorized their blind spots, the time of rotations, and their feed delays.
Rowan enters behind me, his footsteps silent onthe linoleum floor. As we pull down our balaclavas from under our hats, we don’t speak. We don’t need to, our movements synchronize without words or signals.
First checkpoint. A narrow hall with dual security cameras and motion sensors. I count under my breath, timing the camera sweep. One, two, three, press. The maintenance keypad accepts the code I extracted from the building’s personnel files weeks ago, and the indicator light shifts from red to the amber of maintenance mode.
“Good job,” Rowan murmurs, his acknowledgment warming me more than it should.
