33. High Wire
33
HIGH WIRE
Maya’s hands shook as she adjusted her scratchy polyester scrubs, already damp with sweat in the August heat. The badge hanging from her neck felt like a noose—“Angela Sanders, Lab Assistant”—complete with her photo altered just enough to match her current appearance.
“Run it one more time,” Jack said, studying the clinic’s layout on his tablet. “Everyone clear on why Maya’s going in?”
“Because I’m the least valuable in a tactical situation,” Maya said dryly.
“No.” Ronan’s voice was sharp. “Because we need our combat-trained operators positioned for rapid response if this goes sideways. You’ve got the investigative experience to know what we’re looking for, but Christian and Kenji need to be free to move if you need extraction.”
“And I’ve got their surveillance feeds on a continuous loop,” Ethan added from behind one of his multiple laptops. “No one’s going to see any faces we don’t want them to see.”
Christian nodded. “Maya finds what we need. We stay ready to get her out. Clean and simple.”
Simple. Right. Maya pushed her fake glasses higher, the unfamiliar weight strange on her nose. The thick headband pulled her hair back severely, making her face look smaller, more uncertain. Perfect for the role of nervous junior lab tech. Her heart hammered against her ribs—method acting at its finest.
“Run the entry sequence again,” Ronan said beside her, his voice low and steady. Even confined to the van, he radiated contained energy. Maya caught the slight wince as he shifted, though he tried to hide it.
“Enter through the staff entrance,” she recited, fingering the lanyard. “Badge in, check my phone like I’m confirming directions.”
“Good. Then?”
“Follow the route Star mapped out. Second floor, east wing. Records room.” Her voice caught. “Pretty different from serving warrants with LAPD.”
“That’s why you’ve got us.” Jack’s voice was reassuring. “You find the evidence, we handle the rest.”
“And that’s why I’m stuck in this stupid van,” Ronan muttered.
“Team Two in position,” Christian’s voice crackled through their earpieces. “Security’s light—one guard at reception, one patrolling. Kenji and I are ready at the north entrance to create a distraction, if needed.”
“Cameras looped,” Ethan confirmed. “You’re clear, Maya.”
“Remember,” Kenji added, “if anyone questions you, you’re covering Jessica’s shift. She’s out with food poisoning. All the details are in your phone if they ask.”
Maya nodded, throat tight. Ronan’s hand found hers, warm and callused. The simple touch steadied her more than she wanted to admit.
“Jack, we’re ready,” he said.
“Green light,” Jack’s voice came through. “Maya, you’re up.”
She reached for the door handle, but Ronan kept hold of her hand. “Hey.” His voice was soft, just for her. “I’ve got your back. We all do.”
“Thought you were staying in the van,” she managed a weak smile.
“Close enough to get to you if needed.”
“But not as close as he’d like to be.” From the back of the van, Izzy muttered to Axel, “They’re not fooling anyone.”
Maya felt heat creep into her cheeks, but Ronan just smiled—that rare, genuine smile that transformed his whole face. “Go show these Special Forces boys how LAPD gets it done.”
She stepped into the suffocating heat, letting her shoulders curl inward, making herself smaller. Less confident. Her sensible shoes scuffed against sunbaked concrete as she approached the staff entrance, while behind her, the weight of her team’s presence felt like armor.
Maya swiped her badge with deliberate hesitation, letting out a small breath when the light turned green. The blast of AC hit her as she entered, raising goosebumps on her sweaty skin. Inside, the clinic had that universal medical facility feel—linoleum floors, fluorescent lights, the sharp bite of disinfectant.
She fumbled with her phone, the way Star had coached her. New employees always checked directions, double-checked room numbers. She’d seen it countless times during investigations—the way uncertainty made people smaller, less noticeable.
“Guard at the desk is streaming the Dodgers game,” Christian murmured in her ear. “You’re clear.”
The elevator doors opened with a tired ding. Maya stepped inside, pressed two, and used the moment alone to steady her breathing. Not so different from undercover work with LAPD. Except for the team of Special Forces operators backing her up.
“Doing great,” Ronan’s voice was warm in her earpiece. “Maintenance cart heading this way—hold the elevator on two until it passes.”
She jabbed the ‘door closed’ button as the elevator settled. The squeak of wheels passed, then faded.
“Clear,” Austin confirmed. “Kenji, Christian—you’ve got eyes on both stairwells?”
“Locked down,” Christian replied. “We’ve got your exit routes covered, Maya.”
She stepped out, hearing the soft buzz of voices from the labs down the hall. Real techs, doing real work. Her pulse quickened.
“Left at the water fountain,” Kenji directed. “Records room is third door.”
She rounded the corner and nearly collided with a man in a lab coat. Her heart stopped.
“Oh! Sorry!” She fumbled her phone, letting it clatter to the floor. “I’m so sorry. I’m new, covering for Jessica, and I’m completely turned around ...”
The man barely glanced at her, stepping around with a distracted, “No problem.”
“Nice recovery,” Ronan said softly in her ear. “You’re doing fine.”
She retrieved her phone with shaking hands, the badge swinging against her chest. Twenty more feet to the records room. Nineteen. Eighteen ...
Maya swiped her badge at the records room door, her heart stuttering until the lock clicked open. She slipped inside, into cool darkness broken only by the glow of computer monitors.
“I’m in,” she whispered. “Now what?”
The room smelled of paper and electronics. Rows of filing cabinets stretched into shadows. A desk near the door offered a clear view of the entrance. Maya slid into the chair, trying not to think about whose workspace she was invading.
“Plug in the USB,” Ethan directed. “It’ll auto-launch and copy their database structure. Look for anything dated in the last three months.”
Maya’s fingers trembled as she inserted the drive. The screen flickered, lines of code scrolling past.
“Lab tech heading your way.” Christian warned in her ear.
“Hide the USB,” Ronan ordered. “Look busy.”
Maya minimized the window of the copying program and pulled up a random file just as footsteps approached. They continued on down the hallway. She let out a shaky breath.
“Transfer at twenty percent,” Ethan reported. “Keep an eye on that door.”
“Guys,” Austin cut in, “McClelland just pulled into the parking lot.”
Maya’s stomach dropped. In her ear, she heard Ronan curse softly.
“McClelland’s taking the east elevator,” Austin reported.
“Time for plan B.” Christian’s voice was steady. “Kenji?”
“On it. Maya, you’ll hear a code blue announcement. That’s your cue to get out.”
“Transfer at sixty percent,” Star said. “We need three more minutes.”
A minute later, the man himself strode into view, white coat billowing around his thighs as he strode down the hallway. Head down, he eyed the tablet in his hand, frowning.
Maya’s mouth went dry as she watched him approach. No reason he’d head into the room. She had to stay calm. She forced herself to breathe normally, to look busy but not suspicious. After all, she was supposed to be in the building—just another lab tech covering a shift. If he entered, she’d plead ignorance. Wasn’t this Jessica’s station?
He had no way of knowing what was on her screen, no reason to question her presence. Still, her pulse thundered in her ears as his footsteps drew closer. Suddenly, alarms blared. “Code Blue, Lab Three! Code Blue, Lab Three!”
McClelland’s head snapped up. He hesitated, then hurried onward, toward the labs on the far side of the floor. Maya watched him disappear around the corner.
“Transfer at eighty-five percent,” Ethan said.
Through her earpiece, Maya heard the controlled chaos Kenji and Christian were creating. Something about contaminated samples and exposure risks. They had the entire floor’s attention.
“Ninety-five percent. And transfer complete,” Ethan announced. “Get out. Now.”
Maya yanked the USB free and stood—then froze. Footsteps and voices were approaching from both directions—McClelland returning from the false alarm, and what sounded like security responding to his call about unauthorized access to the records system.
She was boxed in. The elevator would be watched, the stairs monitored. McClelland, or the security team that would follow, would be well within his rights to have the new temporary employee—who wasn’t even supposed to be in the computer area—searched.
Which left only one option.
“Window,” Ronan’s voice was tight. “The maintenance ledge.”
Her hands shook as she eased the window open. Four stories up, the late afternoon sun threw harsh shadows across the narrow, concrete ledge. It had looked manageable during planning. Now, with her sweaty hands and trembling legs, it looked impossible.
Maya hesitated.
“You’ve got this,” Ronan’s voice steadied her. “Just like we practiced.”
She swung one leg out, then the other, pressing her back against the rough brick. The polyester scrubs caught against the wall as she inched sideways.
She tried not to look down. She tried not to think about the wind that lifted her loose scrub top, or the way her sensible shoes offered zero grip on the ledge.
Three shuffling steps. Her thigh muscles burned. A bird swooped past, startling her, and her fingers scraped against the brick as she caught herself. Four more steps.
“Almost there,” Ronan murmured in her ear. The tension in his voice told her he was watching through the surveillance feed. “Fire escape is just past the drainpipe.”
The metal platform seemed miles away. Her glasses slipped down her nose, and she didn’t dare adjust them. Inside, she heard voices growing closer to the records room. Any second now, they’d discover the transfer.
Maya’s law enforcement training screamed at her with every unauthorized step. Breaking and entering. Corporate espionage. If she was caught, her career wouldn’t just be over—she’d be facing federal charges. Everything she’d worked for, destroyed in one afternoon.
But then she thought of Marcus and Tom. Of Kate and Mike, who’d barely escaped. Of all those veterans who hadn’t. Sometimes justice needed a push. Sometimes the system that was supposed to protect people became the very thing enabling their destruction.
Her foot slipped, heart lurching as pebbles skittered down the building’s face. The by-the-book FBI agent in her head was still listing federal statutes she was violating, but another voice was stronger now—the voice that had first drawn her to law enforcement. The one that said protecting people mattered more than protecting protocols.
“Maya.” Ronan’s voice again, somehow knowing she needed the anchor. “You’re doing great. Just keep moving.”
That voice. The one that had been systematically dismantling her careful professional boundaries since day one. The one that made her question everything she thought she knew about right and wrong, about duty and justice. About herself.
She reached the fire escape with trembling arms, metal ringing dully under her feet as she practically fell onto the platform. No time to recover. Voices erupted from the records room behind her as she flew down the stairs, each clang of her footsteps echoing off the building’s face. The last flight swayed under her descent.
Heart pounding, she flew down the stairs, jumped the last few feet to the pavement, and ran. She burst out of the alley into blazing sunlight. Ronan stood in the middle of the parking lot, tension radiating from every line of his body. Their eyes met.
Maya’s face split into a fierce grin as she jogged toward him, USB drive clutched tight in her hand. She’d done it.
“I told you to stay in the van,” she said as she reached him, breathless and triumphant.
His answering smile was equal parts relief and pride. “And I told you I had your back.”
For a split second, time stopped. The sun caught his features exactly right, softening the usual hard edges, and Maya felt that familiar flutter in her chest. He looked at her like she’d just conquered the world, not just stolen some files. Like she was someone worth breaking protocol for, worth leaving the safety of the van for. It was the kind of look that made her wonder what else he might break the rules for.
And how much she wanted to find out.
“If you two are done making eyes at each other,” Jack’s voice cut in, “let’s move. McClelland’s calling security.”
They ran for the van together, Maya’s victory thrumming through her veins. Behind them, alarms wailed.