“One of the biggest drug dealers in New York City has been seen visiting banks in this section of the city. We’ve tracked some of his money to secret accounts…”
“We have a gun runner making deposits to this very bank. His name is probably on that list.” The ATF officer craned his neck, trying to steal a peek at the paper.
“More likely the Sovereign Dawn,” someone else piped up about a white supremacy group that had been making the news lately.
His commanding officer Constantine, aka Con’s, grunt projected through Ash’s comms device. “It’s not Sovereign Dawn’s style. It’s Cipher’s MO. We’re analyzing the list now, Ash.”
He nodded to the bank manager that he got what he needed. The manager skirted the outer edge of the group to make his escape.
“Scan the crowd,” Con directed.
Ash lifted his head and turned, letting the cam sweep the room.
“It’s alphabet soup in there,” Con commented.
He made a noise of agreement. Everyone continued to chatter about which agency would take charge of the case. The DEA, convinced whoever blew the box was after drug money, and the SWAT team scrambling to secure the blast zone—all of it faded to background noise.
When Con’s voice filled his ear, Ash snapped to attention. “Sophie sees the name of a shell corporation tied to Cipher on that list.”
Ash looked at the group. “Sorry, boys. It’s ours.”
“Not so fast,” a woman’s voice projected from the back of the group.
Ash turned, completely aware that his camera picked up the woman bustling forward. Though the space was cramped with people, she managed to walk with confidence. Head high, shoulders back and breasts thrust forward. Her hips swayed slightly like she’d practiced for the runway.
As two people shifted to let her through, he got a better look. She was average height, but that was where the ordinary stopped. Her cardigan sweater and knee-length skirt should’ve read sensible.
On her, it was anything but. The fitted fabric turned modest into a danger zone. And the neat row of buttons down her sweater led his eye—and his thoughts—astray. He flexed his fingers reflexively, itching with the sudden, unwelcome urge to undo every last one.
His gaze traveled up to her face, and his gut tightened at the sight of dark-rimmed glasses meant to look serious but were the stuff of men’s fantasies.
Silence filled the vault and hummed in his comms too. The guys back in the war room watching the bodycam footage were in committed relationships with amazing women…but they’d have to be blind not to be seeing what Ash was seeing.
Then he noticed she wasn’t in a jacket bearing the letters of an agency.
She stepped up to him, thick hair stirring around her shoulders.
“And you are?” Ash asked her.
“I’m The Accountant.”
In his ear, he caught the voice of Elin, his team’s resident hacker. “Look at her hair. Did a breeze pick up in the room, Ash? It looks like her hair is moving.”
Another voice, Sophie’s this time. “Really bouncy. Like a shampoo commercial.”
Ash forced his attention to the woman. “Who do you work for?”
She tipped her head to meet his gaze, her eyes a vivid blue behind her glasses. Nobody’s eyes could be that blue. The lenses must be tinted.
“Do we need labels or answers here?” she asked breezily. “Should we build walls or bridges?”
He narrowed his eyes. “And what agency does that bridge lead to?”
“I’m interagency.”
Hell, those lips were adding an entirely different layer of distraction.
Con’s command made Ash stiffen. “Bring her to base.”
