Chapter 4
DANIEL
The red light on the server tower thrums, a slow, dying rhythm.
My gaze shifts from the hardware directly to the woman.
Kaila sleeps in my chair, her head pillowed on her arms, face turned toward the wall of monitors. The blue glow of the screens paints her skin in ghostly hues, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and the rigid line of her jaw that holds fast even in sleep.
Her frame appears small against the oversized leather. Fragile doesn't apply to her, though. I've seen her dismantle a firewall with the exact violence Shane uses to break a jaw.
My hand flexes at my side. The urge to touch her sits heavy in my chest, a tightening completely separate from the shrapnel scar on my ribs, entirely focused on the hacker currently drooling on my mechanical keyboard.
Mine.
The claim echoes in my skull, bouncing around like a loose round in a metal drum.
Irrational and dangerous logic dictates I step back.
Logan would call her a liability. Looking at the curve of her neck, exposed by the messy bun tied up three hours ago, logic completely evaporates.
Keeping her breathing consumes me. She remains the only person on this godforsaken mountain who speaks my language.
My boots make no sound on the industrial carpet. A steady drone of cooling fans fills the loft. Downstairs, the clubhouse sits empty, the brothers crashed out or on patrol.
Reaching out, I hover my fingers over a stray lock of hair fallen across her cheek.
The monitors suddenly flash red.
A jarring, dissonant alarm blares through the ceiling speakers, accompanied by a blinding strobe.
Kaila jerks awake. She gasps, hands flying to the keyboard before her eyelids fully part, driven entirely by raw survivalist instinct.
"Status," I bark, stepping directly behind her chair.
"Inbound," she rasps. Her voice sounds thick with sleep, yet her fingers fly across the keys. "Packet flood. Massive. A damn battering ram, Daniel."
Planting a hand on the desk on either side of her, I cage her in. My chest presses flush against her back. Her pulse races against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped inside bone.
"Source?"
"Routed through three proxies," she mutters, tracking the scrolling lines of code. "Singapore, then... wait. This signature."
"Costas," I growl. The cartel's name coats my tongue like ash.
"They found the back door I patched," she says, her breathing going shallow. "They're trying to brute force the encryption keys. If they get in, they wipe the drives. We lose the location data for Kevin."
"Not on my watch."
Reaching over her shoulder, my arm brushes her ear. She leans heavily back into my solid weight.
"Shift the load to the secondary server," I order, my tone dropping to the low register that usually makes Prospects piss themselves. "I'll isolate the node."
"I can't access the secondary from here. The bridge is locked."
"Then unlock it."
"I need your clearance code."
"Type it."
Her fingers stall over the keys. "You're giving me full access?"
"Type the damn code, Kaila."
Her fingers hammer over the keys, the clattering plastic sounding faster than automatic fire.
The scrolling screen holds my gaze, while the heat of her body seeps directly into my torso. Stale coffee, metallic sweat, and sweet citrus and cool mint roll off her skin. A soft scent that completely clashes with this war zone.
"They're faster than me," she whispers. A bead of sweat tracks down her temple. "Daniel, they're cutting through the second firewall."
"Focus." Bringing my other hand up, I cover hers on the mouse. My calloused palm swallows her smaller one whole. Her skin feels cold against my burning heat. "We do it together. On my mark, execute the kill switch for the external port. I'll reroute the traffic to the honey pot."
"If we mistime it, we crash the whole system."
"Trust me."
Tilting her head back, her dark eyes meet mine. Her pupils swallow her irises. The cascading code and the Costa cartel completely vanish from my radar. The hard swallow bobbing her throat becomes the absolute center of the room.
"Okay," she breathes.
"Three," I count down. My lips brush the shell of her ear, catching the sharp hitch of her breath. Good.
"Two." Tightening my grip on her hand, I guide the cursor into position.
"One. Mark."
We move in absolute sync. She slams the enter key as I tear the virtual cable from the socket.
Blinding white flashes across the screens before snapping black.
Silence slams down.
The alarm abruptly cuts off, taking the red strobe with it, leaving only the steady drone of the standby lights.
"Did we..." She trails off, staring at the blinking cursor.
"We got them," I say, my voice gravelly. "Redirected to the sandbox. They're hacking an empty box right now."
Slumping back against my chest, she lets out a long, ragged exhale. "Jesus. That was close."
"Too close."
Stepping back would be the logical move. Checking the perimeter logs, calling Austin to update the physical security protocols, and verifying data integrity should be my priority.
Instead, I bury my face into the warm curve of her neck and inhale deeply.
She goes entirely rigid. "Daniel?"
"You did good," I murmur against her skin.
A fine tremor runs through her limbs. "I... I just did what I had to do."
"You protected my family." Pressing my mouth to the sensitive spot below her ear, I feel her pulse jump, erratic and fast against my lips. "You protected what's mine."
Spinning the chair, she turns to face me directly. We sit nose to nose, her knees knocking against my thighs. The residual adrenaline from the hack mutates, shifting into something heavier. The thick tension fills the small space like gun smoke.
"I'm not part of your family," she whispers. A blatant lie.
Gripping the armrests, I lean down until our mouths hover inches apart. "You’re in my house. You’re using my tech. You’re saving my ass."
"I'm saving my brother."
"And I'm saving you."
Her gaze drops to my mouth before snapping back up. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, a devastatingly unconscious habit.
"You're too close, Tracker."
"Not close enough."
Lowering my gaze, I stare at her chest. She wears that gray, oversized hoodie she’s had on since I hauled her out of the cabin. The stitched logo on the breast advertises a shell company the Costas use for a shipping front. Red-Line Logistics.
I despise the garment.
Seeing their brand against her collarbone makes my blood boil. The men who kidnapped her brother provided the very fabric wrapping her body.
"Take it off," I command.
Her lashes flutter. "What?"
"The hoodie. Take it off."
Her hands drop to the hem, clutching the thick material. "I'm only wearing a thin tank top underneath. The air conditioning is freezing."
"I'll keep you warm."
"Daniel, we just stopped a cyber attack. We shouldn't be—"
"I refuse to let their filth touch your skin." A low growl vibrates deep within my chest. "Looking at that logo makes me want to burn the entire state down. Take it off."
Her fingers remain locked on the hem.
The territorial beast inside me snaps its leash. Reaching to my belt, I draw my hunting knife. The obsidian black blade catches the dim light, razor sharp and completely lethal.
Kaila stares at the metal without a single scream or flinch. The woman possesses a spine forged from solid steel.
"Hold completely still," I instruct.
Stepping into her space, I push her knees apart with my thighs. The flat of the blade rests gently against the collar of the hoodie.
"Daniel?" she gasps.
"Trust me," I repeat.
Hooking the sharp tip under the fabric at her throat, I execute a swift, controlled downward jerk.
Heavy cotton parts cleanly. The harsh sound of tearing fabric echoes in the quiet room. The blade slides straight down the center, slicing right through the Costa logo, severing their brand in half.
Gripping the ruined garment, I rip it off her shoulders and toss it onto the floorboards.
Clad only in a thin white tank top, goosebumps erupt across her exposed arms. A fierce fire blazes in her dark pupils.
"You ruined my clothing," she notes, her vocal cords strained.
"I eliminated a problem."
Grabbing the thick collar, I haul my leather Cut over my head. The heavy vest bears the Broken Halos patch on the back and the Nomad rocker on the bottom. Well-worn leather, gun oil, damp earth, and dried blood cling to the material.
Settling the heavy leather over her bare shoulders, the vest immediately engulfs her small frame like a protective cloak.
"Better," I grunt.
Her fingers curl tightly into the lapels. "This is your club cut, Daniel. You can't just drape this over me."
"I can do whatever I want with what belongs to me."
Wrapping my large hands around her waist, my thumbs dig firmly into the soft flesh above her hips. Her body heat radiates through the sheer white cotton.
"I'm not a piece of property you can just tag," she counters, lifting her chin to expose her throat. The defiance in her posture makes my cock twitch.
"Agreed," I murmur. "Property never looks at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want to climb my torso and never let go."
A dark, heavy flush creeps up her neck. "I absolutely do not."
"Liar."
Dragging her forward, I slide her hips right to the edge of the seat cushion. My palms sweep up her sides, counting her ribs, halting directly below the heavy curve of her breasts. A sharp gasp tears from her lungs.
"Admit it," I rasp, leaning down to brush the tip of my nose against hers. "The electricity in the cabin. The raw heat when we cracked that code. This is real, Kaila."
Standing between her parted knees, I grind my hips forward a fraction of an inch, pressing the thick, aching ridge of my cock directly against her inner thigh.
Her head falls back against the headrest. "Daniel..."
"Say it out loud."
"I..." A hard swallow bobs her throat. "I feel it."
"Good."