CHAPTER 11
DAMIáN
It’s been two days since I fucked up by spending the night with Oliver, and yes, it was a terrible fuck-up, mostly for two main reasons:
First, it left everyone, me, Oliver, and my team, in a vulnerable position that could have cost us the mission or even our lives.
Second, and most importantly… waking up with him in my arms made me realize how badly I want to do it again.
And for a very, very long time.
Those eleven seconds before I fully woke up and realized how badly I had fucked up were the best eleven seconds of my life.
Carajo… the feeling of his naked body pressed against mine, his scent, how at peace and happy he looked… It was incredible.
Naturally, because I’m an absolute idiot, I freaked out over my so-called feelings. Like a complete fool, I made Oliver think I pulled away because I regretted what happened between us, and not because I am completely terrified of how fast he is breaking down my walls.
Of how fast he is becoming a part of my life, and how desperately I want to keep him there.
?Maldición!…
My heart aches whenever I remember the face Oliver made when he heard me say the words ‘I fucked up’…
I need to talk to him, but the only thing he texted back was: I get it, it was a mistake, so let’s not talk about it again. Text you when I have something about our next date.
And nothing since then.
Is this a fight? Can fake boyfriends who just happen to be exclusive fight?
Fuck… I don’t know, but it feels like one.
This is the first time I’ve genuinely wished I could break the rules, visit my sister, and talk to her about what’s going on in my head. Or talk to the Harknetts.
The day I returned to my apartment after waking up at Oliver’s, I turned on the yellow lamp near my window. It’s a code Law came up with:
A white light means everything went okay.
A yellow light means I need contact, but it’s not urgent.
And a UV light means shit hit the fan.
So far, I haven’t heard anything from them, but that probably means they’re waiting for a safe window to reach out without being compromised.
Stressed out of my mind, I head to Grit & Grind to hit something and work on my stretching routine.
“Hey, Damián,” Holden calls out, grabbing a towel from the ropes of the sparring ring. “I need your help buying a painting.”
I pause my workout and look around the gym, where there are zero frames or even decorations outside of their trophies. “Okay…”
“I’m torn between six different pieces, so if you could come to my office and help me look them over, I’d appreciate it.”
And yep. Given the sudden change in location and the time it would take an art dealer to authenticate six paintings, I know one of two things is happening: either the team received my signal, or Holden has my next instructions.
“I had a cancellation this afternoon, so I’ve got all the time in the world,” I say. “Lead the way.”
I follow him up a spiral staircase, but we walk right past his actual office, which makes perfect sense, for the walls in there are mostly glass, designed so he can keep an eye on the entire gym floor all the way from his desk.
Instead, we continue down a hallway lined with glass display cases holding a ridiculous amount of gold-plated championship belts and trophies that he and his team have won.
Jesus… How often do his fighters win? Daily?
We continue for what it seems like forever until we finally stop in front of a black iron door. Holden passes his hand over his buzz cut and “secretly” glances down the hall, then knocks twice.
Vaya, look who’s playing spy now, Holden.
I step inside, taking in the incredible indoor garage. The place has an insane level of security, a workspace area, and a beautiful lineup of cars: an orange Lamborghini Revuelto, a black ’67 Impala, and a black OPS Tuscany.
“Wow. Nice Batcave.”
“We built it after the fifth time one of our cars was broken into.”
“Broken into?” I ask, confused. I mean, isn’t this area super safe?
“By fans…”
“Oh… yeah. I’ve heard your fighters have some crazy fans.”
“Crazy is an understatement. Let’s just say I am glad they know how to fight.”
“So, what news do you have?” I drop my gym bag on the floor and lean against the wall. “Or don’t tell me you actually want to talk about art?”
“Absolutely not… But I am not the one with the news. He is.”
Holden points at the OPS, the door swings open, and the person stepping out is none other than Bjorn.
His long, ashy blond hair is down, his blue eyes look tired, and he’s wearing a black muscle shirt that leaves his left arm completely exposed, showing off a fresh bandage, which is a dead giveaway that the team has been running raids.
?Ay! I wanna go to a raid.
“Miss me?” he grins as he opens his arms.
“?Hermano!” Oh man, I haven’t seen him in almost three weeks. I sprint and pull him into a tight hug.
“I knew it,” Bjorn laughs, hugging me back. “I am completely irresistible, and you love me… but Dami, I’m a top, so you’ll have to break your rule and kneel for me,” he says and pats his thighs. “Kneel, baby.”
Behind me, Holden clears his throat, looking deeply confused. “Ahh… okay… I’ll just go. Take care, guys.” He backs out of the office and shuts the door.
“Knock it off. Knox is going to kill you when he finds out you just traumatized his magical coach.”
“He’ll live,” Bjorn just shrugs, opening the back door of the truck. “Get in.”
“Are you taking me on a date? But Bjorn, I am strictly a top, so you’ll have to admit you do bottom and bend over.”
Bjorn bursts out laughing.
“Get in the car, smartass. I’m taking you to something way better than any date in the world.”
“Fuck no! A B&E?!”
“B&E, baby!” He screams, and we do a little dance.
“?Sí! ?Dios Santo! It’s been ages since we did one of these.” I go back to grab my gym bag and jog over to the OPS truck.
I climb inside and lie flat across the back seats. Even though the windows are tinted, it’s always smart to stay out of sight for at least a few blocks until the coast is clear. Especially with my own private shadows following me.
Bjorn jumps into the driver’s seat, hits the button for the garage door, and pulls out onto the street.
I lie flat, staring up at the truck’s ceiling while Bjorn drives. The adrenaline is already spiking in my blood, and I feel incredible.
Damn, this is exactly what I needed.
A distraction.
A chance to blow off some steam and just feel better. Maybe not a hundred percent cured, but better, for sure.
“What building are we breaking into?”
“Synapse Delta.” Without taking his eyes off the road, Bjorn points over his shoulder. “There’s a bag under your seat. Change into those clothes.”
“Why does that name sound super familiar?” I ask, already changing into the black pants and long-sleeve shirt.
“Because it’s one of the companies the informant leaked to the CIA.”
Great.
And now I’m thinking about Oliver again.
Damn it, Bjorn.
“Alexios found a money trail leading from that company straight to one of Elijah’s personal accounts. Since it’s basically impossible to hack into Elijah’s network, we’re going to tap into Synapse instead.”
“Sounds good.” Once I’m dressed, I climb over the center console into the passenger seat and pull on my seatbelt. “Security level?”
“Seven.”
“Seven?! You said this was going to be easy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, do you want to break into a fenceless playground instead?” he asks, and I just glare at him. “Okay, fine. It’s not the easiest, but it beats Elijah’s. His system is like a fucking twenty out of ten.”
More like a fucking two hundred out of ten…
“Here.” Bjorn opens the glove compartment and hands me a thick, folded piece of paper. “Try to memorize as much of this as you can.”
I unfold it… It’s a blueprint.
“A blueprint? Old-school… Is this really all Alexios could get us?”
“Don’t even fucking mention it to him. He is furious.”
“No! Darth?!” I gasp, hoping to Dios I’m wrong.
“Yep… Darth-Cutie is fucking back.”
Darth-Cutie is the only hacker in the world who has ever come close to beating Alexios. We don’t know a single thing about them, just that they take gigs for the highest bidder, completely ignore moral boundaries, and Alexios absolutely despises them. He even calls them his arch nemesis.
“Ugh… how bad is it?”
“Not terrible. Alexios managed to break through the final security layer, but some of the files were incomplete, and others had already been wiped.”
“Okay, blueprint it is.”
So, for the next fifteen minutes, I study the layout, memorizing every detail until we finally pull up next to an incredibly tall building.
“We’re here!”
I hop out of the cab and follow Bjorn around to the back of the truck. He opens the cargo doors and starts taking out all the equipment we need.
“Isn’t this a residential building?” I ask, looking up.
“It is.”
“I thought we were hitting an office building.”
“We are.” Bjorn turns around and tosses a black bag at my chest.
It’s a parachute.
My eyes go wide with excitement.
Yay!
We gear up, strapping on a pistol and a knife each. I grab a net, and Bjorn hooks a diamond-wire handsaw to his belt. Then, he hands me a unicorn fanny pack.
“You’re shitting me,” I say, dangling the thing by its strap.
“I’m sorry, do you think you’re the size of Finni or Tae? This is the only bag that’s going to fit inside the vent with you.”
“Fair point.” I buckle it on, and the fucking idiot takes a picture of me.
“You look so fabulous!”
I glare at him. “You’re sending that to the group chat, aren’t you?”
BZZT! BZZT!
The phone vibrates, answering my question.
“You are an idiot,” I laugh. “So, how exactly are we getting up there?”
“I have connections,” he says, throwing me a wink.
And boy, does he have connections. Because for the entire fifty floors we’ve been riding in this elevator, Bjorn has been making out with the cute guy from the lobby.
I lean against the back wall and stare into space, while Bjorn holds the lobby guy by the face, kissing and groping him as the guy practically melts into his arms.
Yeah… this is definitely not making me think of Ollie, or how much I wish I could be kissing him right now.
…Not at all.