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“Special Agent Harlan,” he said, voice like river stone, low and steady, shaped by decades of current. “You’ve been busy.”
His name came back to her in a rush of memory and respect.
Thomas Rylan. The new director. The legend. He was in his early sixties, tall and lean with the posture of a man who carried the weight of too many secrets without bending. Silver hair combed back with precision. Slate-blue eyes, watchful, unreadable. His suit was charcoal gray, immaculate. No tie. Just power.
Before she could respond, another door opened, and Lynne Caspari walked in like she owned the walls. Grace exhaled. “No hood this time?”
Lynne grinned. “You’ve got a live one here, Tommy.”
“Tommy?” Grace raised a brow. “What is going on?”
“She performed exactly as you said she would,” Lynne said.
Rylan nodded. “You were spot-on about Rahim, too. You satisfied with the outcome?”
“Extremely.”
“You put me undercover,” Grace said, blinking slowly. “Without telling me.”
Rylan’s expression didn’t change. “I’m sorry for the subterfuge. But when Lynne came to me with the idea, I signed off immediately.”
He stepped around the desk, his movements unhurried. Grace stood her ground.
“She told me how you reacted. What you said. I was proud we had such a person on our team.” His voice gentled just slightly. “You were treated abysmally. My predecessor was relieved of duty. I was appointed with one priority: get to the bottom of the chain of negligence and betrayal that nearly killed our best cyber analyst.”
Her breath caught. He didn’t stop.
“SECNAV was livid. You were railroaded. You and Rahim. The tribunal was a disgrace.”
Grace couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her chest hitched, shoulders trembling as she covered her mouth. She tried to breathe through it, tried to stand tall. But her legs didn’t listen. The weight was too much. Living in isolation. Falling in love. Witnessing the awakening of a machine. Drowning, and losing that precious AI life that never got a chance to fully live.
Tears spilled fast. Hot. She turned away slightly, just enough to breathe.
Lynne, of all people, stepped in and slipped her arm around her shoulders.
“You deserve this,” she said softly, the gentlest Grace had ever heard her speak. “I’m sorry, Grace. For everything you were put through. But now it’s over.”
Grace wiped at her cheeks. Sniffed once. Shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong.” They both looked at her. She smiled, slow and fierce. A breath of somethingmore.
Nash’s face was burned into her brain. She lifted her chin. Her smile sharpened. “It’s just beginning.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Nash had just putthe finishing touches on the garage, the clutter was gone, his workout space as clean and organized as his home. Suddenly, he heard furtive movements, and his attention went to the garage door. What the fuck did Caspari want now? He went into the house, grabbed up his sidearm. Slipping through the kitchen he looked out the window and smirked. He set his weapon down on the counter.
Opening the back door, he stepped out. “The last time someone fucked with that door, they ended up face down on the pavement, tied up at gunpoint.”
His redheaded burglar turned with a smirk on her face. “Kinky.”
He laughed out loud. “What are you doing here, Harlan? You hackers are always trying to find a backdoor in.”
Her laughter was like sunshine. “You ex-Navy SEALs are always so confrontational. Damn alpha males.”
He walked down the stairs, and she came up to him. “So, you got something to say to me?” he asked as he took her in.
“Yeah, I do.” She stepped closer and his heartbeat accelerated.
“Well, I’m waiting. You know ex-Navy SEALs are busy people.”