Dane

He'd started feeling anxious the minute she went down those stairs. Anxious in a way he couldn't explain. Like something inside his skin was trying to get out and go to her. It wasn't just the fear of his father—though that simmering tension never truly left him. It was more the feeling of being off-balance. That something was wrong in the world. Something he couldn't fix. He'd tried to ignore it as he'd let Chris and Tank into the apartment.

​​

"Where's John?" he'd asked without greeting them.

"On his way," Chris said, already walking through to set up his laptop and tablet at the dining room. "Can you open the wall? We're going to need it."

Dane picked up the remote and punched in the code so the wall would peel back to reveal the database access and monitors. As always, a part of him felt equally smug and nervous to see the piece of art and the panels of the wall peel back to make room for display monitors and computer hubs.

Tank was the only one who hadn't seen them before, and he blinked, then smiled. "Nice, boss."

Dane went for the keyboard at the front and typed in Becky's name, pulling up all her files and security notes.

"Pretty soon we're going to need to find out what Lila's got so far—she's got to be at least halfway through. Did she work by date? If so, she's probably covered the most important stuff. We need to know if what she's found in case it's relevant."

Dane caught himself about to say she was finished already and swallowed the words. He had to take a breath, adrenalin pumping in his veins. Those were exactly the kinds of mistakes he couldn't afford. "Did you notify her?"

"Not yet," Chris muttered, plugging in his laptop. "I was going to brief you first, so you could choose how far to let her in—"

"She's got clearance," Dane said, tapping on the keyboard. He didn't turn. Didn't let Chris see his face. Was too afraid it would show…something.

"I know, but—"

"If we can't trust her with this, we can't trust her with anything, Chris. You told me she's the best. She doesn't get that far by telling people's secrets. And so far, she's kept ours. She's got clearance. I'll call her in. In fact, lets get her in now and you can brief us both at the same time."

That knot in his chest eased a hair just knowing he wasn't going to have to wait to see her. He just prayed he wasn't being led around by his dick where it would cost people's lives. Chris muttered something behind him, but he didn't listen. He finished pulling up all the records and displaying each category on a different screen so they could access them as a group. He entered the log of each name, every person who was present to see the records, then pulled out his phone. He had to pray Lila hadn't gotten caught up on her way back to the apartment. She had probably only just walked in the door.

He tapped her number on the phone and waited until she answered, breathless. He didn't let himself enjoy hearing her voice. "Get your ass over here. Now," he barked then, pretending she'd protested, "I don't care—the report will have to wait. We have an emergency. Becky Hanson committed suicide."

"I'll be there in five," she said, and he could hear the hint of a smile in her voice and he knew it was for him, not for Becky.

Ignoring the warming in his chest, he hung up the phone like he didn't care, praying she wouldn't take his rude tone personally. That she wouldn't think he'd gone cold. That she would know he just had to present his normal, rude self in front of the men.

When he turned, Tank was already seated, looking around the Penthouse, eyes wide. Dane glanced at Chris, but his brother was cursing at his laptop. Dane frowned. Tank wasn't the usual Lead for this kind of project. He prayed it wasn't a mistake. Tank was a good man, and trustworthy. But he was better suited to the operations that needed courage under fire—if a client was under threat, or had a stalker. Tank was fearless. These quiet operations that required a lot of forethought and side-stepping, strategy and careful deception… Dane prayed Tank would not get lost in it.

A few minutes later after the men all had their computers set up, Reception dinged his alarm. Dane got up from his chair and was halfway across the room, headed for the door before he realized it would have been a lot more normal for him to send Tank, or even Chris to get the door. But by that time he was committed. He couldn't hesitate or it would draw attention to what he was doing. With his back to the men he couldn't see their faces, wasn't able to measure if they'd noticed.

Thinking quickly he pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked, and started a text that he kept his eyes on as he answered the door distractedly, barely greeting her—not letting himself catch her eye because he know he'd show his hand if he did. So he pretended to be preoccupied by the phone and something on it. But he inhaled as she passed—she had had time to change and was wearing sweat pants and a soft sweatshirt. She smelled like vanilla and peaches... and something uniquely her. It made him want to tell the others to leave and just pin her to the wall. They'd been apart for maybe fifteen minutes. He had it bad.

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