"Cookingthe books is completely outside my standard skillset," she admits. "Catchingthe criminals who falsify ledgers is my actual job."
"Firsttime for everything,"Imurmur, my gaze dropping straight to her swollen mouth.
Adeep flush stains her cheeks, yet she refuses to break eye contact.
"Okay," she agrees. "Iwill build the fake ledger, but getting the ghost server running requires direct access to theVault’shardline to bypass the wireless."
"Done."Standingup requires walking directly past her spot on the floor to reach the patch panel.Myboots hesitate on the concrete.
Watchingmy hesitation, she knows exactly what causes the delay.
Closingthe distance makes the air grow heavier with every single stride.Stoppingdirectly in front of her forces her to angle her chin up to meet my gaze.Reachingdown makes her flinch,a barely perceptible twitch of her shoulders.Grabbingthe thick black cable lying next to her knee drags my knuckles against her bare skin, shooting electric fire straight up my arm.
"Plugthe cord in,"Iorder, holding the metal connector out to her with a rough, gravelly tone.
Takingthe wire causes our fingers to brush.
"Elias?"
"What."
"Whenthis crisis is finally over," she says softly, "after we save the club."
"Yeah?"
"Donot make me wait too long for the rest."
Staringdown at her beautiful, ruined mouth makes a hollow ache echo through my chest. "Getto work,Mia."
Turningaround,Iwalk back to my desk to prevent myself from doing something completely reckless like falling in love with her.
Thatparticular equation is already solved.Thecount echoes loudly in my head.One, her brilliant mind sees the unseen.Two, her brave spine refuses to snap.Three, her body belongs entirely to me.
Sittingdown, my fingers hit the keyboard, the keys clacking like heavy gunfire cutting through the quiet room.Thewar requires absolute focus, and losing is no longer an option.
5
MIA
Theheavy black fountain penEliasgave me feels like a weapon in my hand.Thecold metal anchors my grip with absolute permanence.
Itscratches against the paper of the ledger, a rhythmic friction sounding too loud in the pressurized silence of theVault.Myspreadsheets on the screen blur into a neon headache.Ikeep writing.Stoppingmeans looking at him.
AndifIlook at him,I’mgoing to climb him like a tree.
Eliaspaces behind me.Turningaround isn't necessary to track his location.Thesheer mass of him sucks the oxygen out of the room with every heavy thud of his boots on the concrete floor.Astorm brews inside him, pressing hard against the glass.
"Stopcounting,"Idemand, my throat dry after two hours without water.
Theheavy boots halt. "I’mnot counting."
"Youare.Trackingmy breaths makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up."
"Thenbreathe slower,Mia.Twenty-two inhales a minute is inefficient."
Spinningmy chair around abruptly brings us face-to-face. "Inefficient?Wejust fed a ghost ledger to a sophisticatedAIthat’s been eating your club’s assets for eight months.Afast pulse is standard operating procedure."
Eliascrowds the wall of filing cabinets, arms banded over his massive chest.Theblack t-shirt strains against his biceps, the fabric threatening to snap with his next inhale.Grayeyes lock onto my face with unblinking focus.Awolf deciding which limb to tear off first stares back at me.
