Chapter 7
SEVEN
BANKS
I sit on the couch beside Anniston, the rugged laptop balanced across my knees.
The encrypted transaction logs scroll in neat rows, full of shell company names, wire transfers, and coded references that should have my full attention.
Instead, every few minutes she shifts closer on the cushion, her bare knee brushing against my thigh, and another casual, devastating comment slips out of her mouth.
Each one lands like a spark on dry tinder, threatening to set the whole morning on fire.
“You’re doing the intense concentration face again,” she says softly, tucking a strand of messy blonde hair behind her ear.
Her voice is low and a little husky from sleep.
“Eyebrows furrowed, jaw tight, mouth set like you’re about to solve the world’s problems. It’s stupidly hot.
I should be panicking about federal crimes and instead I’m thinking about kissing you.
This is terrible for my survival instincts. ”
My body reacts instantly. Heat surges low in my stomach and spreads outward, tightening every muscle.
Fuck. I’ve imagined kissing her at least one thousand seven hundred and fifty nine times since yesterday afternoon.
In the truck when her hand brushed mine.
Right after I pinned the attacker in the boutique, when adrenaline was still roaring through my veins.
On this very couch last night when I pulled her against my chest. Every time her lips part or she lets out that bright, nervous laugh, the fantasy returns stronger, sharper, more dangerous.
I shift my weight slightly, adjusting the laptop to hide the very obvious physical response pressing against my jeans, and force my voice to stay level and professional.
“We should, uh… focus on the files.”
She bites her lower lip and nods, but the pretty flush creeping across her cheeks tells me she’s not the only one struggling.
I can’t let this happen. This isn’t the time to develop feelings.
She’s the principal. My client. My responsibility.
My brothers are counting on me to stay sharp.
Nash and Sin are fucking missing, God knows where.
Dad’s also fucking gone. A distraction right now could get Anniston killed.
Besides, she’s probably not even really into me.
Stress and fear do strange things to people.
Adrenaline creates intense bonds that feel deeper than they actually are.
Once the danger passes and she’s safe again, she’ll see me as nothing more than the brooding security guy who happened to be there when her life exploded. Nothing more.
I need to stay professional.
I reach into my bag and pull out the encrypted satellite phone. Anniston watches me closely as I dial Mack. He picks up on the second ring, voice crisp and alert like he’s already been working for hours.
“Banks. You good out there?”
“We’re secure,” I tell him, keeping my tone even.
“Anniston handed over a USB she stole from Meridian Financial. I’m looking at it now.
It’s everything she said and more. Full transaction logs, shell company structures, direct references to the D.C.
consultancy, even some internal memos that mention asset neutralization.
It ties straight into the network Dad was investigating before he died, or…
uh, vanished.” It’s still crazy to think he didn’t die all those years ago.
I pause, and then continue. “Send this up to Vance immediately and have him cross-reference everything with what we pulled from Rowan’s story. ”
Mack lets out a low whistle. “That’s solid gold. I’ll run it through our systems here and start building the connections. Any movement on your end? Anything on the perimeter?”
“Nothing yet. It’s been quiet all morning. I’ll update you the second anything changes.”
I feel Anniston’s eyes on the side of my face the entire time. The moment I end the main update, she leans in, close enough that I catch the faint vanilla scent still clinging to her skin.
“Can I call my sister?” she asks, voice hopeful but edged with worry. “Just to let her know I’m okay. She’s probably losing her mind right now. Her name’s Sadie. I don’t want her filing a missing person report or calling the police and making things worse.”
I hesitate. A direct call from this location, even encrypted, carries risk. If anyone is monitoring Sadie’s phone or has her under light surveillance, it could paint a fresh target on her back. I shake my head.
“I don’t want to risk a trace. Let Mack call her instead. He can use a clean line and keep it vague. Just enough to calm her down without giving away our location.”
Anniston nods, though I can see the flicker of worry in her wide green eyes. She quickly rattles off Sadie’s full name and phone number. I relay both to Mack.
“Got it,” he says without missing a beat. “I’ll reach out in the next ten minutes. Tell Anniston her sister will know she’s safe and off-grid for now. No details, no location, nothing that can be used against her.”
“Thanks, Mack. Keep me posted on the file analysis.”
I end the call and set the phone down on the table. The cabin suddenly feels much smaller with just the two of us again. Anniston is curled into the far corner of the couch, knees drawn up to her chest, watching me with those bright green eyes that make it hard to remember any of my own rules.
I clear my throat and steer the conversation somewhere safer, away from USB drives and kisses I cannot stop imagining. “Tell me about your life. Before all this. Your sister Sadie. What is she like? What do you do when you’re not stealing USB drives and exposing financial conspiracies?”
She smiles, small and genuine, and some of the tension eases from her shoulders.
“Sadie’s two years older than me. She’s the responsible one in the family.
She teaches third grade and worries about me constantly.
Every time I talk to her she tells me I’m being reckless for digging into this stuff. She’s probably right.”
Anniston tucks her legs underneath her and keeps going, her voice softening as the words flow.
“I was a financial analyst for years. Good salary, boring meetings, the usual corporate grind. Then I saw something I couldn’t unsee.
One wrong file at the wrong time and here I am, hiding in a cabin with you. ”
She looks at me for a long moment, studying my face. “What about you? Seven brothers. That must have been absolute chaos growing up. And your dad… you said he disappeared years ago. Do you miss him?”
I nod slowly. Talking about family feels safer than thinking about how soft her mouth looks every time she says my name.
“It was loud. Always. Nash is the oldest and is always the one in charge. Crewe’s next and tries to keep the rest of us in line.
Then Mack who is a cocky son-of-a-bitch.
Sin’s after that and he’s a SEAL. Very by the book.
Then me, and I guess I’m a numbers guy. Jace never shuts up.
Colt is all action, no filter. Dad raised us to be good men.
He taught us how to survive, how to dig for the truth no matter how ugly it gets. Yeah… I miss him. Every single day.”
We keep talking as the morning stretches on.
She tells me about her terrible taste in romantic comedies and the stray orange cat she feeds near her apartment building.
I listen more than I speak, filing away every detail like evidence.
The more she shares, the more I realize how much I genuinely want to know about her.
That’s exactly why I need to shut it down.
Because every time she laughs, every time she calls me handsome, every time she looks at me like I’m her safe place in all this chaos, I think about kissing her again.
And right now, with her life on the line and my brothers still out there in the dark, I cannot afford to want anything except keeping her alive.