Chapter 1 #2
“I know, right?” she said, punching a code into the keypad near the front door.
I would’ve questioned the security setup of the place until I saw what we were actually dealing with.
The keypad required both a complex rotating code and biometric scanning, while I counted at least three different cameras tracking our approach with facial recognition software, which explained why the DOJ was comfortable using it as our safe house.
Once inside, the views took my breath away—both of Brenna and what lay outside the floor-to-ceiling windows in the great room.
They framed a postcard-perfect vista stretching from downtown San Francisco’s glittering skyline to the Bay Bridge, with Treasure Island floating in the distance like some rich guy’s private yacht.
“Not a bad setup,” I muttered, forcing myself to focus on the strategic advantages of our elevated position instead of the way Brenna’s eyes lit up as she took in the dramatic stone fireplace dominating one wall.
Get it together, Finch. She’s Luke’s little sister.
If he had an inkling of what I was thinking, he’d murder me with his bare hands, then resurrect me just to kill me again.
Smart home controls lined every wall—panels that could adjust the lighting, temperature, music, and security with a touch. The living room had furniture that looked like it belonged in a modern art museum rather than a place where people actually lived.
“Jesus,” I muttered, staring at a coffee table that was apparently a single piece of polished obsidian. “Who decorated this place?”
“Welcome to Sausalito, where everything has to be sleek and modern, and comfort is an unnecessary extravagance,” she said, chuckling.
I wandered over to the kitchen, taking in the professional-grade appliances. The espresso maker alone probably cost more than my car. “Fair warning,” I said when she studied it like I was. “My coffee’s been classified as a biological weapon in three states. You might want to commandeer this baby.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
My eyes flared. “What kind of monster did your parents raise? Next, you’ll tell me you don’t believe in pizza for breakfast.”
“I save my vices for things that actually matter. Like tequila. And pizza in the morning is just Italian toast—so between that and this contraption that serves java in doll-sized portions, we could be considered appropriately cultured.”
“Right. We’re practically royalty. The Medicis would be so proud.”
I walked out to the deck, surprised how warm the day was already.
The house sat on the water, one block from downtown Sausalito and the ferry terminal.
Close enough to blend in with the affluent locals, yet with quick access to the city when our mission demanded it.
Better yet, we were far enough from Silicon Valley that we wouldn’t accidentally bump into any tech execs at local overpriced bars unless they lived in Marin County.
We climbed the floating staircase to the second floor, where the primary suite took up most of the space.
It alone was larger than my entire apartment in DC, complete with a fireplace, sitting area, and a bed that could sleep half my former unit.
The private deck access meant discreet escape routes, but sleeping on the same floor as Brenna was going to test every ounce of my self-control.
“I’ll take one of the smaller rooms,” I said, returning to the hallway. Behind the first door I came to was an office a tenth of the size of the suite. The next one was bigger but was filled almost wall-to-wall with workout equipment. Maybe there were more rooms on the main level I hadn’t noticed.
“I don’t think there are any others,” she commented, peering into both spaces.
As we’d determined earlier, the sofas in the living room hardly looked comfortable.
Not to mention, they were curved. One night trying to sleep on one of those, and my back would be out for months.
“I can set up an air mattress in here,” I muttered, motioning to the office that didn’t have room for anything bigger than a twin.
“The equivalent of camping? For weeks?” She muttered something else that I didn’t catch as she walked away.
“What did you say?” I asked, knowing I should let it go, but too curious to.
“The bed looks big enough for an entire family to sleep in. A couple ought to be able to make it work.”
Couple. There went my mind again, wandering into territory marked “Danger: Best friend’s younger sister.”
“We wouldn’t even have to touch,” she said as we passed the suite on our way downstairs. “Unless we wanted to.”
That time, I heard the comment she made under her breath but decided to ignore it.
Wanted to? My brain conjured the image of her spread out naked on that mattress, and once it had, it was all I could think about.
Even thoughts of Luke wouldn’t wipe it away.
As if it had been imprinted there forever.
After wandering around the main level, where there weren’t any spaces conducive to sleeping, then venturing to the lowest floor, where there was another much larger workout room and spaces for two cars, I decided to put sleeping arrangements on the back burner and at least get settled.
I grabbed my go-bag and returned to the primary suite, where I found Brenna in the walk-in closet. The space was larger than most hotel rooms.
I glanced around, deciding that maybe this could be where I’d bunk.
Since Brenna’s clothes only took up maybe a quarter of what was there, I had enough real estate to house my entire wardrobe three times over.
“Overcompensating much?” I muttered, eyeing the ridiculous amount of storage.
“The previous owner was a crypto billionaire who collected vintage designer suits,” Brenna said over her shoulder as she walked out. “Apparently, he owned over two hundred jackets.”
“What happened to him?”
“Securities fraud. He’s currently enjoying federal accommodations. That’s how we ended up with this place. The DOJ seized the house as part of his asset forfeiture. We’re essentially house-sitting for the government.”
“Makes me feel better about the taxpayer expense,” I muttered.
She leaned against the doorframe, watching me hang my shirts up. “You know, you don’t have to organize everything like we’re preparing for an inspection.”
“Old habits.” I moved to the dresser, where I continued arranging my gear with the same methodical approach I’d used in every safe house from Kandahar to Kosovo.
“Is there anything we need to review tonight?” she asked, covering her mouth when she yawned.
“The mission briefing with K19 Sentinel Cyber is tomorrow at ten hundred,” I said, needing to focus on something other than how good she looked in my peripheral vision.
“As for our team, Kodiak will handle security logistics, Alice will walk us through our digital identities, and Tank and Dragon will serve in primary support roles.”
“I like her. She and I coordinated on some of the financial analysis.” She moved back to the bed, where she’d spread out several file folders.
“Dragon or Alice?” I asked.
“Both.”
I rolled my eyes and stopped myself from pointing out that her comment had been about one person, so how the hell could her answer be both? “Most people find Dragon intimidating,” I said instead.
“Most people aren’t federal prosecutors who’ve spent years dealing with hostile witnesses and defense attorneys.” She sat cross-legged on the bed. “What’s your read on the Silicon Valley crowd we’ll be infiltrating?”
“Entitled tech billionaires who think money makes them untouchable.”
She opened a folder and pulled out several photographs. “That’s the surface level. What about operationally?”
I considered moving to sit on the edge of the bed, where I could see what she’d laid out, but pulled a chair over instead. “New money trying to buy old-money respectability. They’ll be looking for authentication—proof we belong in their world.”
She spread the pictures between us—surveillance shots of men in expensive suits made to look casual at various social gatherings. “I’ve been studying venture capital firms and startup culture for weeks. The key is making them think we’re useful to them, not the other way around.”
“Useful how?”
“You provide high-end security services. I have connections to DC money and political influence.” She pointed to one of the suits. “Together, we represent something they can’t buy—legitimacy and protection.”
“And when they try to recruit us for their little intelligence theft network?”
“We let them. But with just enough hesitation to make it believable.”
I watched as she organized the files with the same attention to detail she probably applied to legal briefs. “How much undercover work have you done?”
“Some, but not like this.” She glanced up, and her brow furrowed. “I’ve worked with informants, run sting operations, but I’ve never had to live a cover identity twenty-four seven. Or pretend to be married. What about you?”
Was she asking about undercover ops or one involving a fake relationship?
The answer was either hundreds or none. “It’s what I do for a living,” I muttered as I headed for the bathroom, needing space to think.
“I’m going to try to figure out this shower.
Try not to let the smart home system lock me in there. ”
Her laughter followed me, and I realized that despite all my concerns about this assignment, I was looking forward to tomorrow’s briefing.
Not because of the mission parameters or the intelligence theft network we were hunting.
Because I was finally going to see if Brenna Austen was as formidable a partner as she was a distraction.
The shower did indeed require an engineering degree, but I eventually decoded the touch screen controls and settled into water hot enough to ease the tension in my shoulders.
As steam filled the glass enclosure, I tried to focus on anything other than the fact that she was thirty feet away.
On the bed. Probably looking hot as fuck without even trying.
I’d handled undercover ops before. Maintained alternate identities for months without breaking character.
But I’d never had to pretend to be married to someone who’d been starring in my inappropriate thoughts since she walked into our briefing room two weeks ago, looking like she could take on the world and win.
When I emerged twenty minutes later in joggers and a T-shirt, I found her exactly where I’d imagined, with her laptop balanced on her knees.
The tank top she’d changed into revealed the elegant line of her collarbones and just enough cleavage to make me wish I’d worn different pants—ones that would conceal rather than emphasize my hardening cock.
Her golden hair was tied up in a messy bun with loose strands framing her face, and the reading glasses she wore made her look even more like the sharp-minded woman who’d been questioning me about everything since the day I met her.
“Learn anything interesting?” I asked, settling on the far side of the massive bed with my tablet.
“The intelligence thefts aren’t random.” She turned her screen toward me, showing a timeline with red markers.
“They’re targeting specific projects—advanced radar systems, satellite communication protocols, drone navigation software.
All systems that would be crucial for defending Taiwan or Ukraine. ”
I studied the pattern, noting the escalation over the past six months. “Foreign buyers?”
“Almost certainly. But the payments are being laundered through so many shell companies and offshore accounts that we haven’t been able to trace them back to the source.
” She pulled up another document. “That’s where your infiltration comes in.
We need to identify the actual buyers, not just the tech executives stealing the data. ”
“Any leads on who we’re looking for?”
“Three primary suspects.” She showed me photos taken at social events.
“Richard Castellano—no relation to the New York crime family—owns a private equity firm that’s supposedly focused on clean energy investments.
Mark Liu runs a startup incubator, but most of his companies seem to exist only on paper.
And David Morrison claims to be a venture capitalist, but his money comes from sources we can’t track. ”
“All three were at the same event?”
“Along with their wives. And, apparently, they’re very selective about who they talk business with.” She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Which is why we need to be the kind of couple they want to recruit.”
“Rich, connected, and morally flexible?”
“Rich, connected, and useful.” She closed her laptop and set it on the nightstand. “Morally flexible is just the bonus that makes us attractive for their particular business model.”
I watched her settle under the covers, keeping to her side of the bed.
“Atticus?” Her voice was quiet in the darkness after we’d both turned off our reading lights.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For taking this assignment, I mean. I know you didn’t want to.”
I turned toward her, though I could barely make out her silhouette in the dim room. “Why did you request me specifically?”
A long pause. “Because other than my brother, you’re the only person I know who would keep me safe, no matter what.”