I follow moments later, chasing my own release.
We collapse into each other, both of us sweaty, breathless, and spent.
I finally pull away. “I’ll get us some water. We can rest for a few minutes, then I’ll be ready again. If you’re going to make me wait this damned long between nights together, I’m just getting started, Jane.”
After very little sleep last night—thank you, Jane—I’m downing a second cup of coffee. I have a huge smile on my face as I say hellos and good mornings to my colleagues at FBI headquarters and make my way to my desk.
“That smile is very telling,” Stone says as he approaches my desk. Marcus Stone and I are both Assistant Directors. He leads the anti-trafficking unit. We often work together on cases and share resources and agents, given that anti-trafficking and organized crime often overlap. He’s a good guy—a little square, but easy to work with. A real Bureau guy through and through.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stone,” I respond with a smirk.
“Oh, to be single again, my friend,” he says wryly. “Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t need to be single, but to be kid-free? That smile on your face is a smile of a guy who wasn’t cock-blocked by his kids last night.”
We both chuckle.
“I will neither confirm nor deny.”
“That’s all the confirmation I need.” He laughs. “Listen, quick question: is Steele almost wrapped on your laundering case with the Donovan clan?”
Ten years have passed since Ciara Donovan chose Konstantin Volkov Junior over her fiancé, Enzo Luciano. That single decision ignited a war between the Russian, Irish, and Italian mobfamilies, leading to the deaths of the heads of each family—including Enzo and Eva’s parents, the only real parents I ever knew.
Micky Donovan is dead now. Ciara escaped back to Ireland. She never married that asshole, Junior, after all. But the Donovan and Volkov names still crawl under my skin, making my blood boil.
“Yup, the Donovan case goes to the prosecutor’s office tomorrow. I believe Steele is almost done. I was about to find her, actually, so I can confirm. You need our best hacker?”
“Yeah, something landed on my desk last night I want her eyes on.”
“No problem, man. I’ll send her your way.”
“Appreciate it. And when you’re ready to let a married father of three live vicariously through your exploits, you know where to find me.”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell, Stone.”
“I know you don’t and it drives mecrazy. A guy that looks like you…I can’t even imagine, man.”
I laugh and stand as he walks away. I need to speak to the woman in question. Luna Steele is indeed the FBI’s best hacker. We recruited her about nine years ago when she was only nineteen. I’ve been lucky enough to work with her the past five years. To describe her as a hacker isn’t even fair—she’s a literal magician.
When I approach her desk, she’s typing away, zoned in. I always get a kick out of seeing her work. She’s chaos in action. Her wild, curly hair is always pulled into a messy bun. She wears oversized, bright-pink glasses and is always sporting some sort of 90s pop-culture tee or neon top. Her personality can only be described as sunshine incarnate.
“Whatcha working on, kid?”
She startles and her eyes snap up to me. “Hey, Cross.Wrapping the last reports for the Donovan case while I run some backend queries on some outstanding dark-web cases we’ve been looking into.”
I lean a hip against the edge of her desk. “All in a day’s work for you. How ya been?”
“Good. Busy. Late night. You?”
“Same,” I answer, hiding a small smile thinking of my night with Jane. “It’s about time I get you and your team out for another night at the bowling alley. I need my damned dignity back.”
“That was all them, I’m as hopeless as you and Stone. I much prefer darts or pool.”
“Oh, trust me, I remember! I’ve yet to win a single game against you.”
We both laugh.
“Let me guess: You’re here because the mob stopped returning your calls?”
I snort. “Exactly. I figured I’d send our best after them instead. And spoiler alert, that’s you.”
