REBECCA #2
Another invisible door slides open. This one doesn't even pretend to look like a door.
One second, it's a solid concrete wall. The next...
it's gone, leaving an entryway. The room beyond steals the words right out of my mouth.
It's enormous. Two stories high. Walls lined floor to ceiling with glowing servers, their cooling fans humming in perfect harmony.
Hundreds of tiny status lights blink in synchronized patterns—greens, blues, the occasional amber—like an artificial constellation.
A massive, curved wall of monitors dominates one end of the room.
Some display satellite imagery. Others show traffic cameras from across Las Vegas. Airport feeds. Casino floors. Shipping routes. Weather radar. Code scrolls endlessly across several screens so fast it hurts my brain just looking at it.
Suspended glass walkways crisscross overhead, connecting mezzanines filled with more computers than most universities probably own.
Robotic arms quietly assemble circuit boards behind glass.
Three industrial-sized 3D printers hum in one corner, building...
something. Drones. Tiny ones. Big ones. One the size of a dinner plate zips silently across the room before disappearing through an opening in the ceiling.
Every desk is immaculate. Every cable perfectly bundled. Every keyboard exactly aligned. The whole place feels less like an office... and more like the bridge of a spaceship.
I slowly turn in a circle. "Holy shit."
Olivere smiles. "Welcome to Valentina's playground."
The cavernous room hums with electricity.
It's oddly soothing. Like the whole place is breathing.
My gaze lands on the center of the room.
Valentina sits cross-legged on the floor in front of a matte black safe.
The thing looks intimidating as hell. Half a dozen cables snake from a small forest of electronic gadgets into the keypad.
One device pulses green. Another flashes amber every few seconds.
A third projects lines of code across a transparent screen hovering above it.
She doesn't even look up. One hand types furiously on a mechanical keyboard. The other absentmindedly twirls a tiny screwdriver. "Interesting."
Her voice is barely louder than a whisper.
I glance at Olivere. "Is she talking to us?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"The safe."
That... actually tracks. Footsteps echo behind me. I don't have to turn around. I'd know that walk anywhere. Steady. Confident. Unhurried. Strong hands settle around my waist. I melt backward into him before I even think about it. His lips brush my temple. "I've missed you, Grease Monkey."
A ridiculous smile spreads across my face. "I missed you too."
I turn in his arms. His tie is slightly crooked. I reach up automatically and straighten it.
"There." He watches me with that soft look that still catches me off guard. "And thank you."
"For what?"
"The shopping."
His thumb brushes my cheek. "Did you have fun?"
I nod. "I did."
He smiles. A real one. Not the tiny almost-smiles he gives everyone else. He reaches out and gently taps the end of my nose. "That's all that matters. No reason to thank me."
Warmth spreads through my chest. "I love you."
The words come so easily now. Like they've always belonged there.
"I know." He leans down and kisses me. Slow, unhurried and deep. The kind of kiss that makes me completely forget there are other people in the room.
"While this is all very heartwarming..." Valentina's eyes never leave the scrolling code in front of her. "Some of us are attempting to prevent a military-grade self-destruct protocol from converting months of investigative work into a very expensive paperweight."
Alessio doesn't even look up. "You'll manage."
"I will."
Click. Click-click. More typing. "But statistically speaking...
" she tilts her head ever so slightly, "the probability of successful decryption decreases by approximately zero percent every time you kiss.
" She pauses for dramatic effect before continuing, "So if you're quite finished exchanging saliva...
I'd like to commit several felonies against this encryption algorithm. "
I snort.
Alessio sighs dramatically. "She's impossible."
Valentina finally glances over her shoulder. "Incorrect." A tiny smirk appears. "I'm inevitable."
Then she points at the safe. "Now... who would like to tell me why a dead biker was protecting a forty-thousand-dollar quantum-encrypted safe with enough countermeasures to make the NSA blush?"
Valentina gently runs her fingertips across the matte-black casing. "Whoever built this..." she whistles softly, "had trust issues."
"You'll fit right in," I remark dryly.
She ignores me. "Military-grade titanium shell." Her fingers tap twice against one corner. "Solid-state cooling." Another tap. "Dual redundant processors." She leans closer. "Oh..." Her eyes brighten. "That's sexy."
I blink. "Did you just call a safe sexy?"
"I did." She looks offended. "You don't appreciate craftsmanship."
"No."
"You should."
She hooks another cable to the keypad. A tiny monitor flickers to life; streams of code immediately race across it. Her fingers fly over the keyboard. She doesn't look at the keys once. "I can tell you brute force isn't an option."