Chapter 8 Brenna #2
“Multiple times. Goes both ways.” He tensed as I hit a particularly tight knot. “That’s the spot.”
I worked the tension out of his shoulders, trying to stay clinical about it. But every sound he made—every groan of relief—sent heat straight through me.
“You’re really good at this,” he said after a few minutes.
“You sound surprised.”
“Just impressed. Woman of many talents. Prosecutor, chef, masseuse. What else are you hiding?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I really would.” He turned his head to look at me with one eye. “I want to know everything about you, Brenna.”
The intensity in his voice made my hands still.
“Don’t stop,” he said. “Please.”
I resumed the massage, working my way down his spine. The lower I went, the more charged the air became between us.
“Brenna?”
“Hmm?”
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to forget every reason why we’re supposed to maintain boundaries.”
“Maybe that’s okay.”
“Is it?” He shifted beneath me. “Because last night, you were pretty clear about them.”
“Last night, I was scared.”
“And now?”
Instead of answering, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his shoulder blade. He went completely still.
“Brenna...”
I kissed my way across to his other shoulder, feeling him tense beneath me.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warned.
“Maybe I want to get burned.”
He moved so fast I barely had time to gasp. One moment, I was straddling his back, and the next, I was on mine, looking up at him, his hands braced on either side of my head.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” he said roughly.
“I’m not.”
“You’re killing me here.”
“Good.”
“Good?” He laughed, but it was strained. “You think it’s good that I’m about two seconds from kissing you senseless?”
“You’re taking too long.”
“God, Brenna—”
“One kiss,” I said. “We’ve done it before. Three times, in fact. Plus, we’re adults. We can handle it.”
“Three times? I count four.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my lips. “You sure about this?”
Instead of answering and calling him out over reminding me of my ill-fated attempt at seduction when I was nineteen, I lifted my head, closing the distance between us.
The moment our lips met, ten years of want exploded between us. His hand tangled in my hair while mine gripped his shoulders, and I forgot every reason this was a bad idea.
He kissed like he did everything else—with complete focus and devastating skill. When his tongue swept against mine, I made a sound I’d deny later.
My cell buzzed on the nightstand. Then a second time.
We broke apart, breathing hard.
“Someone really wants to talk to you,” he said.
I grabbed the phone, still trying to catch my breath. The messages were from Admiral, checking in about a briefing. I held it out for him to see. “I should respond…”
“Yeah, you should.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Probably for the best.”
“Why?”
“Because kissing wasn’t going to be enough.” He traced my jawline with his thumb. “Not with you.”
We stared at each other for a moment before reality reasserted itself. He climbed off the bed and grabbed his shirt while I tried to finger-comb my hair into submission.
“I look like I’ve been making out with someone,” I said, catching my reflection in the mirror.
“You have been.” He moved behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “And you look beautiful.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Finch.”
“Already got me a kiss. I’d say it’s working pretty well.”
We went downstairs, and I set the laptop on the counter where we’d eaten, then texted Admiral that we’d start in five minutes, if they were ready. He responded they would be.
I initiated the videoconference, and the screen filled with familiar faces.
“We have a situation,” I began. “As I’m sure Admiral passed on to you, my brother, Luke, is attending the AI Summit.”
“I couldn’t figure out how I missed his name previously when I reviewed the registration list,” said Alice.
“His business partner got them a last-minute invite,” Atticus said.
“Right. Found that a few minutes ago.”
“Which means we need to avoid all public summit events,” I said. “We can’t risk him seeing us together and blowing our cover. Thus, we’ll be unable to attend the party.”
“What about any private events?” Dragon asked.
“Those should be safe. However, we should do our best to gain access to guest lists just to be certain Luke and his partner aren’t on them.”
“About tonight, aren’t we missing a crucial opportunity for intel gathering?” Kodiak asked.
“You make a good point. We need someone else there.”
“I can attend,” Kodiak offered.
“You should have a date. Let’s bring Emma in for fieldwork. She’s already working the money trail remotely, but it would be beneficial for her to be here,” I suggested.
“Does she have undercover experience?” Dragon asked.
“Affirmative. She was with the FBI prior to moving over to Treasury—ran undercover ops targeting money laundering and corporate fraud. Same type of criminals we’re after now. We should dial her in and see if she’s available. If not, we’ll need a plan B.”
I sent her a quick message, telling her I was in the midst of a briefing with K19 and wanted her to join in if she could.
She answered right away that she was, and I sent her the conference link.
“Brenna,” she said when her face appeared on the screen. “Please tell me you need me to do something more exciting than reviewing wire transfer regulations.”
“I do.”
She grinned. “Great. And hello, everyone. So, what’s up?”
“How quickly can you get to California?” I asked.
“For?”
“We need to add another couple to go undercover for this summit. As it turns out, my brother and his business partner are attending.”
“Ouch. That would complicate things. It’s been a long time, but I’m in. I’ll need a few hours to hand off a project, but then I’m yours.”
“Can you tighten that timeline? I need you here for an event tonight.”
“Sure. Send me the cover details. I’ll make it work.”
After Emma disconnected, Alice leaned forward.
“I’ve already created cover identities for Kodiak and Emma.
They’ll be Jordan and Sarah Mitchell, venture capitalists from Boston with Mitchell Partners—a mid-sized firm focusing on biotech and defense applications.
Jordan specialized in security infrastructure before moving into venture capital, and Sarah came from investment banking.
They’ve been married for two years and met at a conference in Dubai three years ago. ”
“Good backstory,” Kodiak nodded. “Explains why we’d be interested in defense tech.”
“Exactly,” Alice confirmed. “Your covers will hold up to any scrutiny. I’ve already backstopped social media, professional histories, financial records, and marriage certificate.”
“I think that covers it for now,” I said, scanning the faces on screen. “Thank you all for adapting so quickly to this complication.”
After everyone signed off and the screen went dark, Atticus turned to me. “Should we alert Morrison about not being able to attend tonight?”
I thought it over, weighing our options. “Let’s wait and see if he even notices our absence, then come up with a cover story.”
“Like?”
“If he follows up, I’ll say I got food poisoning or something. Bad seafood from dinner last night. It’s believable and explains a sudden absence without raising suspicion.”
“Simple and effective,” he agreed. “Plus, it gives us an excuse to seem eager to make up for missing it.”
“Back still bothering you?” I asked when Atticus stood, stretched, and winced.
“I’ll live. Though that massage helped. The kiss was pretty therapeutic too.”
“Onetime thing,” I said, winking.
“So…” he said after a moment. “Are we going to spend the next few hours pretending we’re not thinking about what almost happened? Then tomorrow, we’ll pretend today didn’t happen? And next week, we’ll still be pretending.”
He was right. We were both experts at compartmentalizing, at pushing through, at ignoring inconvenient truths.
“So what do you suggest?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Maybe we just acknowledge it. Whatever this is between us, it’s there.”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Since we aren’t going to the party tonight, we’ve got some time to kill.”
“I need to brief Soledad, get caught up on emails, then prepare for Emma’s arrival.”
“In other words, you want space?”
“I want a lot of things,” I said, then stopped myself from elaborating when I knew I shouldn’t. As I headed for the door, he called after me.
“Brenna?”
I paused.
“We’re okay,” he said. “Whatever happens, we’ll be okay.”
As I made my way upstairs, not sure what I’d do when I got there, all I could think was maybe he’d be okay. But me? Requesting to work with Atticus on this investigation was probably the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Because when it ended, I’d be anything but okay.