ing that made her skin burn. "Understood," he said, his tone

'm denying it just fine," she lied, heading for the door.

r Holt was a landmine, and she'd spent years defusing worse. But as the doors closed, the me

e hair pulled into a tight ponytail, her 5'6" frame moving with purpose as she dressed in black tactical pants and a fitted jacket. The gala dress was gone, replaced by gear that felt like armor, though the memory of Alexande

ed. Be at the office by 0700. – A.H. No mention of last night's almost-touch, his low voice calling her brilliant. Good. She didn't need his blue eyes clouding

s, the weight of her Glock holstered beneath her jacket. She'd run ops in Afghanistan where one wrong glance meant an ambush; this corporate jungle wasn't so different. Up on the 60th floor, Alexan

let. The screen showed an email, anonymous and untraceable: Step down, Holt, or your empire burns. Midnight tonight, y

er said, his jaw tight. "My team's tracing it, but

d be a diversion, or they're planning something big-data breach, physical attack." She met his gaze, her attitu

over his chest. "You don't run my company, Eleanor," he said, his ton

appens when you ignore threats. Kandahar, 2019-I called an ambush, my CO didn't listen. I lost a friend, got a bull

. "I'm listening. But we need evidence, not a fortress. Crane

she snapped. "But I'm tailing him today. And you're not leaving my sight." She turned to the tablet

desperate, he'll try again."She nodded, her focus split between the logs and the heat of his proximity. "Then we set a trap. I'll monitor the vault, c

hand lifting as if to touch her, then

stepped back, her attitude a shield. "Good. Use it to stay alive," she sai

erous, grabbing his jacket

nce, steady and electrifying, was a variable she hadn't trained for. In Kandahar, she'd faced death