Chapter 14
Brie
Warmth surrounded me, a heavy, protective cocoon that kept the rest of the world at bay. Something solid cradled my back, and for a blissful moment, I let myself sink into the comfort.
The air smelled so wonderful—the warm, spicy scent reminding me of going to the movies, of walking by the lake near our office, of collaborating at the whiteboards. A million laughs, a million smiles.
The scent reminded me of home.
As the fog of sleep slowly pulled back, I grew suddenly aware of where I was.
The scent was Will’s cologne.
And it was Will’s body heat surrounding me. Will’s arm across my waist. His chest rising and falling against my spine. His body curved against mine in perfect alignment, and the unmistakable hardness of his erection pressed against my ass.
Oh god. Not good.
My eyes snapped open, heart racing, heat flushing between my thighs. We were spooning, and my body was responding in ways it wasn’t supposed to. My body tingled at every point of contact—his thigh between mine, his breath against my neck, the possessive weight of his arm.
I should have slept on the floor.
Memories of another morning crashed through my brain. Sneaking out of the bed in his workshop, still half-dressed and thoroughly mortified. How we’d spent weeks afterward walking on eggshells around each other, both too embarrassed to acknowledge that sleeping together had been a colossal mistake.
Fuck. Our friendship had nearly shattered before we agreed to pretend it never happened. To pretend nothing had changed between us.
But something had changed. All these years later, people still saw it and asked. Even Shawn, my stupid ex, who’d left me the week before Christmas last year, claiming my daily video calls with Will were “inappropriate for someone in a relationship.”
Nothing positive ever came from big changes. Not from my father going to prison, not from dropping our lives in Ottawa and moving to Halifax, not from sleeping with Will.
Change only led to heartbreak.
Then get out of bed before he wakes up, and it gets all awkward again!
Carefully, I extracted myself from his grip, lifting his arm and sliding toward the edge of the bed. The movement disturbed him.
He shifted and made a small noise of protest. In a voice rough with sleep, he said, “Brie?”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I whispered, my feet finding the floor. “Then I’ll grab some breakfast.”
“Mmph. I’ll join you… in a few…”
I practically sprinted to the bathroom, shutting the door and dropping my forehead against it.
This was precisely the kind of complication Will had been afraid of yesterday, when he suggested all the ways we could not share the bed.
Instead, I’d insisted I could handle it, but my stupid body didn’t know the difference between acting like we were married and the reality that we could never, ever cross that line again.
After a quick shower, I threw on jeans and a T-shirt and headed out, calling softly that I’d meet him in the cafeteria.
The Grotto buzzed with pre-caffeinated employees shuffling around in pajamas and fuzzy slippers. It felt like a dorm cafeteria—people clutching coffee mugs like life preservers, someone in Star Wars pajamas shuffling past, the general air of people preparing for a new day.
Other workers were more alert, dressed in their Mnemis-logo shirts, eating sandwiches and salads rather than bacon and eggs, clearly from different shifts.
I grabbed some scrambled eggs, toast, and a juice bottle, then began the hunt for the perfect table.
There had to be something isolated from the chatty people, closer to those focused on their phones.
As I dodged around a man with a green lanyard, I lost control of my tray.
I saved it before the eggs went everywhere, but the juice bottle tumbled off the tray.
Straight into the hand of a man at the nearest table, who caught it mid-air without looking.
Rav! Right in front of me, and I’d almost walked past him! How did he do that? Completely failing at hiding my smile, I said, “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He held out the juice bottle, his voice remarkably neutral. “Pierre Tremblay.”
“Brie Stone,” I replied, accepting the bottle. At least I didn’t slip on the surname. “Mind if I sit?”
“Go ahead.”
I set my tray down and took the seat across from him. Pointing at his ID card—which hung from a lanyard today, unlike the retractable cable he’d worn during our security orientation—I said, “You’re a newbie, too? When did you start?”
“Last week. You?”
“Yesterday. My husband and I just arrived.” I picked at my eggs, trying to look casual. “It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”
We made small talk about the facility, its impressive amenities, and how we were adapting to underground living.
After a few minutes of establishing our cover as strangers, Rav set down his fork and lowered his voice.
“There are cameras in this area, but they’re for emergencies only.
Typically, they don’t monitor anything in residential or common areas.
Only the data center, checkpoints, and entrances. We can talk, but keep it vague.”
I nodded, relief flooding my system. “Ashley broke her arm.”
He made a noncommittal grunt. “Did you install their app?”
Right. I should have led with that. “It sends your location data, calls, and texts. Don’t access any of your Reynolds stuff with your phone.”
“I played it safe and wiped the phone before I installed.” His expression remained light, but his voice was tight. “Gideon’s briefing missed a lot.”
“Clearly.” I took a sip of juice. “You didn’t call, so I assume you weren’t able to connect to cellular from Little Haven?”
He shook his head. “No signal.”
I leaned forward to grab a salt shaker, lowering my voice even more. “Gideon warned us it would be spotty, but Will brought a phone with satellite capabilities. We should be able to route all of our earpieces through that.”
Before Rav could respond, I caught sight of Claire, moving toward us with her tray.
Avert your eyes. Maybe she’ll sit somewhere else.
“Mind if I join you?” Claire was already pulling out a chair, not waiting for a response. To Rav, she said, “I don’t recognize you. You must be new too.”
“Pierre,” Rav offered, with that slight smile that probably had half the women in the facility swooning. “Started last week. You?”
“I’m Claire. Software support.” She set her tray down next to mine. “How are you settling in?”
“It’s an interesting job,” Rav said, reaching for his coffee. “Still learning people’s names.”
“French, Canadian, or other?” Claire asked.
“Montreal.” He’d been born there and had spent just enough years to cement his faint accent, but he’d lived near us in Halifax since his early teens.
Claire gestured at one of his biceps with her fork, at the dark edge of ink visible below his T-shirt sleeve. “What’s your tattoo?”
Rav pushed his sleeve up to his shoulder to reveal an intricate design with a compass star and an anchor, with a red maple leaf and a blue fleur-de-lis. “It’s a Navy thing.”
“It’s beautiful.” Claire’s eyes lingered on the tattoo. “How long were you in the Navy?”
“Eight years.” He let the sleeve fall back down. “Decided to try civilian security work.”
“Must be an adjustment.” Claire sipped her coffee. “From ship life to underground bunker.”
“It’s very similar to being on board a ship, sleeping and working below decks, but certainly fewer waves.
And a lot fewer stairs.” For someone who usually communicated in grunts and single syllables, he was being downright chatty.
And the way he smiled at her? Was he flirting?
Or was this how he worked undercover? “Food’s better than expected. And the tech is impressive.”
“Right?” Claire salted her hash browns and speared a few. “It’s like working in a cross between a military bunker and a research station.”
A hand landed on my shoulder. Will. His hair stuck up in three different directions, his sleep shirt was rumpled, and he looked like someone had personally offended him by making him wake up this early.
“Morning, Bug.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, sending warmth through my chest.
I put my hand on his and chuckled. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you for another couple of hours.”
“I’ll move,” said Claire, already shoving her tray across the table and sliding around to the seat next to Rav. Was she the welcome crew? Or was she hitting on him?
“Oh, hey. I’m Will,” he said, blinking slowly as he sat. “You helped with our orientation yesterday, right?”
“Pierre,” Rav said, extending his hand.
As Will shook it, Claire’s eyes lit up. “Will, I heard you got access to The Deep yesterday.”
“Yeah, Ronnie needed help with some heavy lifting.” Will yawned. “Nothing exciting.”
“And he put in a request to have you work with him for the full rotation,” Claire said. “You must have impressed him.”
“You think?” Will stretched his arm across the back of my seat. “That’s… great.”
“Now, as I was saying…” Claire leaned her elbows on the table. “Military bunker or research station. Which one does Mnemis remind you of more?”
“I’ve never been inside a bunker,” Will said, mid-yawn, “but it reminds me of a lab I worked in.”
“Oh really?” Claire perked up. “Where?”
“A molecular lab at Dalhousie.”
“Molecular lab?” Claire picked up her coffee cup. “That sounds fascinating. What kind of projects did you do there?”
“Oh, you know,” Will said as he waved a hand vaguely, “using nanoparticles to deliver—”
“Will?” I interrupted, reaching over to pat his arm. He was going off-script and talking about things he did in college, rather than what undercover-Will did. “Your brain won’t turn on until you have some coffee. Go get some before you fall asleep in your seat.”
He blinked at me, then nodded. “Right. Coffee. Good idea.”
As he wandered off toward the coffee station, I replayed his responses in my head. Had he said too much? Or was the churning in my stomach because I was still jumbled up after this morning? Or general anxiety?
Probably just anxiety.