Chapter 13 Eliza #2
He moves around to see the screen better, standing beside my chair. The change in angle puts his face inches from mine, and I catch myself staring at the strong line of his jaw, remembering how it felt against my skin.
“Someone is using Phoenix to launder money on a massive scale.” I scroll through the data, numbers streaming across the screen.
Cooper goes very still. “Show me the dates.”
I filter the data by timestamp. “This week. Yesterday.”
“Jesus.” He straightens, running a hand through his hair.
I stare at the screen, data flowing past in neat rows of numbers and codes that represent death sentences. “I have access to Phoenix’s financial infrastructure.”
“Fascinating,” Cooper says, and despite everything, there’s a hint of admiration in his voice. “Smart woman.”
Heat floods my cheeks at the compliment. “Most people find my work boring.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “There’s nothing boring about you.”
Before I can respond, his hands frame my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. The kiss is sudden, fierce—celebration and pride and something deeper all rolled into one claiming press of his mouth against mine.
I melt into it, into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as he kisses me like I’ve just handed him the keys to the kingdom. Which, I realize dimly, I may have done.
“You just—”
The sound of vehicles outside cuts him off. Multiple engines. The distinctive rumble of large SUVs moving down the street.
Cooper’s entire demeanor changes in an instant. He moves to the window, staying below the sight line, peering through a gap in the blinds.
“Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Three vehicles. Professional formation. They found us.”
Ice fills my veins. “How is that possible?”
“Doesn’t matter.” His voice is pure command now, all traces of our earlier intimacy buried under tactical necessity. He points to the flash drive on the table. “Pull that and shove it in your bra. It was safe there before.”
Despite everything, I let out a startled laugh. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. Best security system you’ve got.” His mouth quirks in the ghost of a smile even as he grabs the go-bag. “Pack up. We move in sixty seconds.”
I close the laptop with shaking hands, my mind racing. “Cooper, what if what I decoded isn’t just communications? What if it’s how they fund operations? What if I discovered Phoenix’s financial nervous system?”
He pauses in his weapons check, looking at me with something that might be respect. “Then you’ve found something worth killing for.”
Car doors slam outside, echoing down the street. Multiple sets of boots hit pavement.
Cooper’s jaw clenches as he counts. “Nine. Maybe twelve.” He looks at me, and something shifts in his expression. “We’re not running this time.”
“What do you mean we’re not running?”
“Nowhere to run to.” His voice is grim, matter-of-fact. “They’ve got the street covered. Front, back, probably rooftops too. We dig in.”
Terror claws up my throat. “Dig in how?”
He’s already moving, pulling tactical gear from hidden compartments I didn’t even know existed. A heavy vest appears in his hands.
“Arms up.”
“Cooper, I don’t understand—”
“Arms up. Now.”
I raise my arms, and he slides the tactical vest over my head, his fingers quick and efficient as he adjusts the straps. The weight settles across my shoulders like armor, heavy and foreign.
“Safe room,” he says, guiding me toward what I thought was a closet door. “Reinforced. You’ll be secure.”
He opens the door to reveal a small space lined with steel plates, emergency supplies, and communication equipment. A single chair sits in the center.
“I can’t just hide while you—”
He presses a pistol into my hands. The metal is cold, heavier than I expected.
“Safety’s here. Point and squeeze. Don’t think, just shoot.” His green eyes lock onto mine. “I’m going to knock three times, pause, then twice more. Don’t open for anything else. Anyone else. Understood?”
My hands shake around the weapon. “Cooper, this is insane. I don’t know how to—”
“Eliza.” His voice cuts through my panic like a blade. “I command—”
“And I obey,” I finish automatically, the words falling from my lips before my brain actually thinks them.
Something fierce flashes in his eyes. “That’s my girl. Now get in the room. Lock the door. Wait for my signal.”
The sound of shattering glass echoes from the front of the house.
“Go. Now.”
He pushes me gently but firmly into the safe room.
The door closes with a heavy click, and multiple locks engage automatically—mechanical tumblers falling into place, electronic bolts sliding home with soft whirs, the final seal of reinforced steel plates settling into their housing with a dull thunk.
I’m alone in the dark with a gun I don’t know how to use and the sound of Cooper’s footsteps moving away from me.
Then the shooting starts.
The first gunshot makes me jump so hard I nearly drop the pistol. Then another. And another. The sound is deafening even through the reinforced walls—sharp cracks that split the air itself.
Voices shout over the gunfire. Commands I can’t understand. Cooper’s voice, lower, harder than I’ve ever heard it.
More shots. A sustained burst that goes on forever.
Something heavy crashes. Glass shatters. The tactical vest digs into my ribs as I press myself against the back wall, trying to make myself smaller.
The gunfire is constant now—a rhythm of violence that makes my ears ring and my heart slam against my chest. How many bullets does one gun hold? How many people are out there?
How is Cooper surviving this?
Then—silence.
Sudden. Complete. Terrifying.
I strain to hear something, anything. Footsteps. Voices. Proof that Cooper is still alive.
Nothing.
Minutes crawl past. Five. Ten. My hands cramp around the pistol grip.
He’s dead. He has to be dead. No one survives that much gunfire. They killed him, and now they’re coming for me, and I’m trapped in this metal box with a weapon I can’t use.
A sob builds in my throat. I press my free hand to my mouth, trying to stay quiet.
Then—three knocks. A pause. Two more.
My heart stops.
“Cooper?” I whisper.
“It’s me. Open up.”
My fingers fumble with the locks, shaking so hard I can barely work the mechanisms. When the door finally swings open, I throw myself forward—and stop.
Cooper stands in the doorway, alive but wrong. His tactical vest is torn. Blood soaks through his shirt at the shoulder and across his ribs. A cut above his left eyebrow drips red down his cheek.
“Oh God. Cooper, you’re hurt—”
“We go. Now.” His voice is steady despite the blood.
I drop the pistol and reach for him, trying to assess the damage. “No. Not until I bandage these wounds. You’re bleeding everywhere. You could have internal injuries—”
“Eliza.”
The tone stops me cold. The same authoritative command he used when he made me confess my deepest fantasy. When he ordered me not to pull away from his kiss.
“I give the orders.”
I look at him—really look at him. Blood-stained and battle-worn, but alive. Dominant. In control even when wounded.
Understanding floods through me, deeper than fear, stronger than panic.
“And I obey,” I whisper. It’s somehow become our mantra.
Something flashes in his eyes. Heat. Satisfaction. Recognition of the truth we both know extends far beyond this moment, this crisis.
It encompasses everything we are to each other.
He nods once. “Good girl. Now move.”