Opal turned to her, placing her hands on Ellory’s shoulders. She was an inch or two taller than Ellory, and the woman’s authority fed her a little strength. “Your job is to get in, access the computer and catalog anything financial. In and out. Fast.”
In and out. She nodded.
As soon as the van door closed, Ash was backing out. Gripping her bag, she blinked at the headlights panning across the front of the garage, then hitting the trees surrounding the property.
“How long will this take?” Somehow she kept her voice even.
“The office building is a thirty-two minutes’ drive unless traffic gets heavier. Once we’re in the building, my guess is fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes. She could do fifteen minutes.
Her breaths came faster, and she hugged her bag to her chest. What if something went wrong? She was just The Accountant.
“Ellory.”
She looked over to find Ash studying her, his dark eyes missing nothing.
Her chest felt too tight. Her palms were sweating. The rational part of her brain knew this was a low-risk op carefully planned by one of the best teams in the world.
That didn’t stop her mind from screaming demands that Ash turn the van around.
She had to deal with her anxiety.
Three things I can see.
One of the problems with being The Accountant was having so much dumped on her shoulders, whether she could carry it all or not. The grounding technique had gotten her through more than one panic attack.
She forced her eyes to focus.
One: the dashboard.Plain, unremarkable, standard van features.
Two: the side mirror.It reflected the road behind them, empty and quiet.
Three: Ash’s hands on the steering wheel.Large, capable hands with scarred knuckles and veins running up his forearms where his sleeves were pushed up, revealing golden skin and corded muscle.
She swallowed hard and looked away.
Three things I can touch.
Her fingers found the edge of the seat, and she gripped the smooth leather. The texture helped ground her in the present.
She whispered under her breath. “Seat. Seatbelt. Door handle.”
Except her brain wasn’t cooperating.
Instead of the door handle, she was imagining what it would feel like to touch Ash’s stubbled jaw. Would it be rough? Would he lean into her hand or pull away? And his arm—god, those arms—all ropes of sinew and prominent veins that probably felt like steel wrapped in warm skin.
“You good?”
His voice startled her out of the dangerous direction her thoughts had taken. She realized she’d been staring at his forearm.
“Fine.” She jerked her gaze to the windshield. “Totally fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m just…running through the plan in my head.” Not a total lie. She was definitely running throughsomethingin her head, even if it had nothing to do with the mission.
He glanced at her, and for just a second, his hard expression relented. “I’ve got you.”
