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I check the open door, then look at the tower. I don’t have long.
Moving fast, I unclip the barrette from my hair and roll the device between my fingers until the catch pops. The bottom third folds away, revealing a USB connector with a red light.
I crouch to plug the data crawler into the front port of the tower.
The script is already loaded, and the first window crawls for Vartanian surnames, then secondary connections for finance, corridor, and shell companies.
It pings through the main directory and the unallocated disk space, checking for remnants of the family’s stolen data. Then it sweeps for a half dozen unique serials connected to the breach from last month.
No hits. Nothing in the main directory or the encrypted partitions.
As the progress bar on the deep scan crawls, my pulse hammers in time with Reef’s returning footsteps. I abort the scan, yanking the crawler the second the light turns green.
I snap it closed and clip it back in my hair just as Reef enters, arms full of towels and cleaner.
“Kain’s gonna kill me,” he says as he mops the puddle off the desk and wipes down the keyboard tray. “I’m a disaster before noon.”
“It’s okay,” I say, closing the folder on the laptop so it appears as if I haven’t moved.
He blots the worst of the spill, then sets the keyboard upside down to dry. “It’ll work tomorrow. It always does.”
I gesture at the campaign mockups. “The concepts are strong,” I say, and I mean it.
“You’ve got a good sense of what the place is trying to be. If you embrace the tension, I think it’ll work.”
He beams at the compliment, almost bashful. “Nobody here gives a shit about any of this. Kain tries, but he works in codes, not graphics.”
He turns to me, and the directness of his stare is almost uncomfortable. “It’s nice to talk to someone who actually gets it.”
I feel the urge to turn away, but I don’t. “I’d be happy to take another look at the deck when you get further along.”
“Yeah? That’d be cool.” After wiping his hands on his jeans, he checks the time. “Kain’s probably finished by now. You want a drink? I can comp it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, slipping my laptop into my bag and slinging the strap over my shoulder. “I took up a seat for hours. I should buy at least one drink tonight.”
Reef walks me back through the staff-only hallway.
As we turn the corner at the end of the hallway, I almost collide with Orien. Orien’s hands come up to cup my elbows, and a frisson of heat shoots up my arms and down to my hips as my knees threaten to give.
I have never reacted to an Alpha this way. I have never reacted to anyone this way.
My lips part on a gasp, just as the sound of the band warming up drifts through the wall.
A loose, wandering guitar chord drifts, followed by a crisp snare hit and the throaty complaint of a saxophone being warmed up.
Reef’s whole body snaps toward it with the certainty of a compass needle finding north, and he bolts around me, sneakers squeaking once on the concrete as he rounds the corner as if neither of us exist.
Orien waits for him to go before his attention returns to me, and his hold on my arms flex. “Didn’t expect to see you back here.”
“Reef asked for my opinion on the new campaign,” I say, the words taking a fraction too long to form as my thoughts scatter at his touch.
His thumbs drag slow circles on my elbows. “And?”
“It’s solid.” The hallway narrows to only him. “The place has a clear brand.”
Orien’s nostrils flare, and he steps in until I have to tip my chin up to hold his gaze. I can feel the heat radiating off his chest and smell the dark, resinous pull of an Alpha who isn’t suppressing anything.
“You always give free advice?”
