Thebell above the front door jingles.Heavyboots sound on the floor followed by a loud, booming voice.
"TheFed'soutside!"Chaseyells from the front. "Andhe's got backup!TwoSUVsblocking the lot!"
Ipull back, framingMia'sface in my hands.Thequiet shatters.Thewar is back. "Areyou ready?"Iask.
Shesmooths her pink cardigan and picks up the file.Hereyes are steel. "Let'sgo balance the books."
Wewalk out to the front of the store together.Throughthe plate glass window,Ican see the flashing lights.TwoSUVs.Thefederal agent'ssmirk is a targetIintend to hit.IseeOldJackacross the street, sweeping the sidewalk in front of theTimberTrailTavern.Thepub owner pauses, leaning on his broom, watching.He'lltell everyone by noon.
TheTreasurerand his woman.Standingtheir ground.
Iopen the door.Themorning air is cold and biting.Istep out,Miaright beside me.Idon't count the agents or the guns.Theonly number that matters is us.
9
MIA
Windcuts through my coat like a dull knife, butIbarely feel it.Myblood runs hot, fueled by adrenaline and the terrifying realization of whatEliasjust did for me.
We’restanding on the sidewalk outsidePeakWildernessOutfitters.Morningsun glares off the snow-piled banks ofMainStreet, blindingly bright after the dim atmosphere of the back room where we spent the night committing high-level fraud.
Thefederal agent—BuzzCut, asI’vementally christened him—stands five feet away.Heflips through the stack of documentsEliashanded him.The"forensic audit."Theperfect lie.
"Thisis everything?"TheFederalAgentasks, his eyes narrowing as he looks from the papers to me.He’strying to find a crack.Atremor in my hand.Abead of sweat onElias’stemple.
Goodluck with that.Eliaslooks like he was carved out of the same granite as the mountains behind us.Hewears his cut, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying boredom.
"Everytransaction for the last eight months,"Eliassays.Hisvoice is a heavy growl that travels straight through the soles of my boots. "Reconciled.You’llfind the discrepancies in the logistics sub-ledger.Theymatch the externalIPsignaturesIflagged."
Istep forward.Ihave to play my part.I’mnot just the damsel he’s rescuing;I’mthe forensic accountant who supposedly fixed this mess.Ichannel my inner corporate shark—the woman who used to terrify junior auditors before my life fell apart.
"Theshell company mirroring the transactions is 'NorthStarLogistics',"Isay, my voice steady. "Theywere skimming off the top by inflating shipping weights.Theclub’s books balance now.Missingfunds are in an offshore account that doesn't belong to theBrokenHalos.Youhave the routing numbers right there on page forty-eight."
Thefederal agent stops flipping.Helooks at page forty-eight.Thenhe looks at me.
"Yourealize," he says, his tone oily, "that ifIfind out these documents have been doctored, you’re looking at federal conspiracy charges.Fiveyears, minimum."
"Andif you keep harassing a legitimate business owner and his independent auditor without cause,"Ishoot back, tilting my chin up, "my lawyer will be filing a harassment suit before you can finish your bad coffee.Thenumbers don't lie,Agent.Youwere looking for a mole.Wefound him.He’sdigital, and he’s stealing from us."
Us.
Thatword slips out beforeIcan check it.
Eliasdoesn't react visibly, but the air between us shifts.Tensionpulls tight.Asurge of possessive heat follows.
TheFedsnaps the folder shut.Heknows he’s beat for now.Thelack of a warrant stops him, especially with the "voluntary" surrender of these records.Hehas his scapegoat—the mysterious hacker—and clean books.
"Don'tleave town,Ms.Carlson," the federal agent warns, pointing a thick finger at me.
"Ilive here,"Eliasinterrupts.Hesteps closer, effectively blocking the agent's view of me with the sheer width of his shoulders. "Andshe’s with me.Soshe’s not going anywhere."
TheFedscoffs, climbing into his unmarkedSUVto peel away from the curb.
Asthe car disappears around the corner toward the highway, my knees turn to water.Isway, just an inch, butEliasis there.Hishand clamps onto my lower back, holding me upright with the stability of a steel beam.
"Breathe," he commands softly.
"Iam breathing,"Ilie. "I’malso hyperventilating internally.Youjust forged federal evidence,Elias.Youliterally rewrote history."
