Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
When I walk into Damien’s office, he’s standing by the windows, looking out over the city like it belongs to him. Hell, maybe it does. I have no way of truly understanding the world he occupies.
“The program is ready,” I say.
He turns to face me, eyes scanning my expression in a way that makes me queasy.
“That was faster than I expected,” he says with a smile. “Good work, Lyra.”
“If you’d like, I can test it for you. I’m pretty sure it’s perfect, but I haven’t seen it in action. Testing it will help me work out any bugs.”
His eyes flicker briefly with something I can’t place, then he stiffens.
“That’s okay, I’ll take it from here.”
I realize, of course, that he doesn’t want me to test it because he doesn’t want me to know what it’s really for. He trusts me to build the thing, but he doesn’t trust me with the truth about who he is and what he does.
“I’ll install it directly. I’ll let you know if we run into any bugs.”
My heart tightens, but I keep my face blank. I expected as much, but part of me hoped he would be forthcoming. I wanted him to be honest.
“Okay,” I say, handing him the flash drive. “Let me know how it goes.”
I walk out without another word.
Back at my desk, I log in to the secure server I’ve created. I name it something innocuous, project_archive_temp1, and wait.
Whatever Damien is up to, I’m going to get to the bottom of it.
18
DAMIEN
Iwait until the office clears out and the building settles into quiet before I plug in the drive Lyra gave me. Her code is a damn masterpiece, not that I expected any less. My fingers move across the keys, layering my encryption to pair her system with ours. It doesn’t take long. Within minutes, it’s live.
The signal stabilizes, and within the hour we capture the first clear audio. One of Rurik’s men speaks in Russian, low and fast, passing instructions about a weapons shipment headed for Newark. A woman asks whether Rurik will be present. The first man hesitates, then confirms a meeting two weeks from now at a warehouse just outside Atlantic City. The meet will be run by a small crew at an unmarked location.
“Got you,” I mutter under my breath, marking the coordinates on our internal map.
Alek walks in a few minutes later, eyes scanning the feed. He lets out a low whistle when he hears how clean the audio is.
“Lyra’s code did this?”
I nod, grinning, pride sharp in my chest. “It’s better than I could have hoped for.”
“Damn, there’s no background static or interference at all,” he says, impressed. “Shit, I can even hear the guy light his cigarette.”
“And you doubted me.” I laugh.
“I never doubted you.” He shrugs. “I did worry maybe you were thinking with your dick, but you’ve clearly proven me wrong.”
“I simply judged Lyra’s abilities correctly.”
Alek gives a tight nod and disappears again, already drafting the preliminary strike report.
I stay behind, listening to the feed loop again. I know where Rurik will be in two weeks, but until then, I have a window. Seven days, at least. And that gives me an idea.
I knock on Lyra’s door the next morning, standing in the hallway outside her apartment like some kind of lovesick teenager. She opens it wearing sweatpants and a tank top, her hair piled on her head in a messy knot, glasses perched low on her nose. She looks relaxed, but surprised to see me.
“Damien?”
“Pack a bag,” I say with a smile.
She takes a small step back, clearly confused. “What?”
“I’m stealing you for a while,” I tell her, smiling. “Rewarding you for a job well done. Pack enough for a few days, and don’t forget a bathing suit.”
She crosses her arms, clearly not buying into my grand gesture. “I have work,” she protests.
“I know the boss,” I say, smirking.
She gives me a look, then sighs, stepping back to let me in. I take a seat on her couch while she disappears into the bedroom. I hear drawers open, zippers, the quiet rustle of fabric. Fifteen minutes later, she comes back with a small suitcase, her expression somewhere between amused and skeptical.
“You really aren’t going to tell me where we’re going?”
“It’s a surprise,” I tell her.
I take the suitcase from her and lead her outside. My driver is already waiting, trunk open, engine humming. Lyra slides into the car beside me, still watching me like she’s trying to read between the lines.
“You look happy,” she says.
“I am happy,” I answer honestly. “And you have a lot to do with that.”
She smiles and leans into me, and I’m immediately glad I did this. We’ve needed time to reconnect, and we obviously can’t do it in the office with prying eyes.
We drive straight to the private terminal. When she sees the hangar lights and the sleek jet waiting on the tarmac, she turns to me with wide eyes.