Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ZARA
Our server at Icicle Brewing Company appeared again for the umpteenth time, a college-aged guy with outstanding service and a kind smile that probably earned him excellent tips. “How was everything?” He eyed our empty plates. “It looks like the shredded pork sandwiches did not disappoint.”
“Perfect,” Chloe said, pushing her plate toward him.
“Absolutely delicious,” I added.
He stacked our dishes, then grabbed them along with our now-empty glasses of lemonade. “Can I interest you in dessert? We’ve got a Limoncello Ricotta Cheesecake that’s basically heaven on a plate.”
I glanced at Chloe, who was already looking at me with that expression that said we would be fools to pass that up.
“Yes, please,” we said in perfect unison.
“One to share,” I added.
The server chuckled. “Coming right up.”
As he walked away, I turned to Chloe and narrowed my eyes. “Okay, serious question. Why do we always eat the same thing? Does that mean one of us can’t think for themselves?”
“That would be me—you have enough brain cells for both of us,” Chloe said with a laugh.
I pressed a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Wow. Here I thought you were going to say something beautiful, like we’re soul mates or some equally touching sentiment about our profound connection.”
“No, that connection belongs to Mr. Sam Monroe.”
“Hey!” I hissed and pushed her arm, glancing around nervously. “Keep it down. Everyone in this town knows him, remember?”
Chloe laughed, completely unbothered by my paranoia. “Relax. Nobody can hear us, and half these people are three beers deep. You could confess to robbing a bank and no one would notice.”
She was right—the ambient noise provided excellent cover since the place was absolutely packed. Every table was occupied and buzzing with lively energy—couples, families with boisterous kids, and groups of friends laughing over pints.
Why was I so nervous? Maybe it was because I knew I would see Sam again soon, and I didn’t know what to expect.
I glanced at my watch.
“How much time before your volunteer shift?” Chloe asked, reading my movement.
“Twenty-five minutes,” I said.
Chloe leaned closer. “I still don’t understand how you are going to access his computer while he’s there. Even if you get in, finding anything useful won’t be easy. The man has impeccable digital hygiene.”
That was an understatement.
Last night was like trying to break into a bank vault armed with nothing but two rocks and a rubber band.
I finally slipped past Sam’s initial defenses and into his network, but then found absolutely nothing when I got in.
Every pathway led to a dead end. Every connection terminated in digital fog.
No breadcrumbs, no traces, no accidental metadata left behind like a normal hacker would leave.
It was like walking through a house where someone had meticulously wiped down every surface, burned all the trash, and replaced the air itself.
“It’s mind-boggling, his level of genius,” Chloe added.
Another understatement.
I spent my days hunting digital ghosts—tracking malware through networks, exposing backdoors that shouldn’t exist, and building fortresses of code that could withstand armies of hackers.
It was elegant work, really. Clean. Logical.
Every threat had a signature, every attack had a pattern, and every system had rules that, once understood, revealed exactly how to protect it. Every system except Sam’s
The man was a freak of nature, and I would drain my entire bank account just to get inside his head and see how his mind ticked.
“I guarantee my mind is much more boggled than yours,” I said.
“One second I’m navigating through his system architecture, and the next second I’m staring at my blank screen like someone just pulled the rug out from under my feet, clutched me by my collar, and launched me face-first through a plate-glass window into a dumpster behind a seafood restaurant. ”
“That’s … oddly specific,” Chloe said.
“That’s how it felt,” I insisted. “Complete with the humiliation and the lingering smell of fish guts. I’ve never been booted from a system that fast or that thoroughly. It was beautiful in its efficiency.”
“Two words,” Chloe said with a grin. “Soul mate.”
“Stop it,” I replied. “Anyway—I broke through his encrypted fortress once—even if it was only for a few minutes. I’m sure I can do it again. I just need physical access to his system. Something I can work with that doesn’t trigger every alarm he’s installed.”
The server returned with our cheesecake, setting it between us with two forks. “Enjoy, ladies.”
“Thank you,” we said together.
Chloe dove fork-first into the cheesecake, strategically claiming the side drowning in limoncello glaze. “So, what’s the plan? Flutter your eyelashes in that elf getup until his brain short-circuits and he forgets to lock his computer?”
“That’s not—” I stopped mid-protest with my fork suspended in the air between the plate and my mouth. “Wait. Hold on. That might actually work.”
Chloe blinked. “I was joking.”
“I’m being serious.” I took a bite of cheesecake, the sharp lemon brightness cutting through the creamy ricotta.
“Not the eyelash-fluttering part—I’m talking about distraction.
Classic misdirection. If I can pull his attention away from his desk for even three minutes, I can slip in a backdoor protocol. ”
“Zara …”
“Rose,” I corrected.
“Rose,” she repeated. “The man doesn’t strike me as the type who wanders away from an unlocked computer. Especially not for random volunteers, no matter how fetchingly they wear their elf costumes.”
“Which is why I won’t be doing the distracting.” I set down my fork and leaned closer, the pieces clicking into place. “You will.”
Chloe’s fork clattered against the plate. “Excuse me?”
“Thorne said you would provide backup as needed,” I said.
“Well, I need you. Think about it. The guy’s basically a walking rescue complex.
You show up at the library with literally any problem—a question about local hiking trails, a request for book recommendations, a sudden fascination with Bavarian architecture—and I guarantee he’ll drop everything to assist. Some kind of situation that requires his immediate expertise away from his desk, and boom—I’ve got a clear shot at his computer. ”
“And if he doesn’t take the bait?” she asked.
“He will.” I took another bite of cheesecake, confidence building with each element of the plan. “I’ve watched him. Seduction would be wasted on him, but he never passes up a chance to help someone. It’s practically a compulsion or in his DNA.”
Chloe studied me with that problem-solving expression she wore when calculating risk-versus-reward ratios. “Are you sure about this?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. It’s the perfect plan.”
We polished off the last of the cheesecake, handled the bill, and stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. Chloe dropped back immediately, maintaining the careful distance we’d agreed upon, so we entered the library separately.
Two strangers just doing their own thing.
Nothing to see here.
I walked slowly, absorbing the postcard-perfect scenery, Bavarian storefronts with their hand-painted signs and flower boxes, and the snow-capped mountains rising in the distance, their massive presence making Leavenworth feel like a fairytale.
Beautiful. Charming. Utterly deceptive.
Because what I was about to do had nothing to do with make-believe and everything to do with cold, calculated risk.
I pulled open the library’s front door and stepped inside, immediately shrugging off my jacket and hanging it on the wooden coat rack.
Eleanor glanced up from the circulation desk, her eyes widening. “Rose! Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” I said, studying her reaction. “You look surprised to see me.”
She set down her stack of books. “Well, after yesterday’s cookie catastrophe, I half expected you to flee the state and never return.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“Clearly.” Eleanor’s smile was warm. “Either that or you have a masochistic streak I didn’t notice yesterday.”
“Maybe both,” I said with a grin. “Besides, Sam promised me something more challenging today. I couldn’t resist.”
“He’s been vibrating with nerdy enthusiasm all day.” She gestured toward his desk in the corner. “He’s waiting for you. And don’t forget we’re all going out for bratwurst sandwiches after we close up shop this evening.”
“Looking forward to it,” I lied. Well, not about the bratwurst.
I made my way through the library, past the community room where we’d held the Santa photos the night before.
Sam was at his desk, enveloped in his work, hammering away at his keyboard. He looked up as I approached, and his face broke into a genuine smile that gave me a little jolt.
“Rose. Right on time.” He gestured to the chair beside his desk. “Have a seat. I’ve got the perfect project for you today.”
I settled into the chair, hyperaware of how close I was to his computer, to his network, to everything I had to access.
Now, I just needed to make him disappear.
With Chloe’s help, of course.
“I’m intrigued,” I said. “What qualifies as perfect in the world of library projects?” I glanced at his coffee cup and smiled when I saw what was printed on the side.
Hold on, let’s overthink this.
“We’ve got a critical bug in our catalog system, and I thought I’d give you a crack at it since it seems to be your expertise.
I’m tied up with something else that is equally precarious,” Sam said, pulling up lines of code on his screen and gesturing to it.
“Books are randomly disappearing from search results. Not deleted—just invisible. The database shows they exist, but the query returns nothing.”
Why did he need me for this? The man was an expert at making things disappear right before my eyes.
“You have a blank look on your face,” Sam added.