Page 35 of Midnight’s Captive (Stroke of Midnight #2)

“Who knows I’m working for you?” Ash stalked into Portia’s office after his shift.

“I beg your pardon.” Ice coated every word.

Ash ignored it. Too pissed—too freaked out—to toe the line.

“Who knows that you have Fēnix working for you?” He paced in front of her desk.

“Phoenix? Oh, that’s right. Your charming little sobriquet.” She glanced up and pursed her lips. “No one. Need I remind you this is a secret project? I don’t need any leaks.”

“Well, we might have one.”

Her head rose sharply and she gave him her full attention. “When? How?”

Ash dropped into his chair and swiveled around to face her. “I don’t know. But I think someone knows. Today...” He stopped, ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I don’t know. It’s mostly just a feeling, but...”

“But what?” Curiosity and urgency colored her question.

“I could have sworn I saw my handle on one of the attempted hacks today.”

“What?” Her voice rose. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

For just a second he enjoyed knowing that he’d shaken her reserve. But when he closed his eyes, those characters hovered in his vision.

“It was gone in a blink. I’m not sure I really saw it.”

Her gaze pinned him. “Did anyone else see?”

Would it better or worse if someone had? He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Most of us weren’t looking at the screen right then.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” And she was back to frosty.

“They were giving me hell,” he admitted. “About a woman.”

“If you’ve spoiled everything because of that woman you’re seeing?—”

“I was distracted, yes, but no, I didn’t ruin everything. Or anything.” He hoped. “That’s the only reason they missed it. Which I think is a good thing.”

“How do you explain your handle appearing on the screen?”

“A fluke?” he offered, although he didn’t believe it for a second.

She didn’t either, judging by the pinch of her lips.

“I don’t know. I think someone knows I’m here. But why now? The only thing I can think of is if...” Ash hesitated. He hated what he was about to say. There were only two ways that someone knew his location and he wasn’t about to say one of them out loud. There was no way he’d screwed up. “What if it’s a leak?”

“What do you mean, a leak?” Her Ice Queen voice was in play now. Ash would need to tread carefully.

“That’s just it. I don’t know. What if someone found out that we’re looking around at what happened?”

“How do I know it isn’t you?” Her blue eyes drilled into him.

His heart racing a million miles a minute, he held her gaze. Was she accusing him? “Why would I do that? That would put Hope at risk.”

She studied him for a long— long —moment. “I’m sure you would, for the right reason.” Portia tapped her finger against her lip. “But I don’t think you’d risk your sister.”

Maybe he was imagining things, but Ash thought he heard a question in her voice. Was she thinking about her own sister? Scuttlebutt was Portia had tried to take her out more than once after the bombing. That was cold.

“If it wasn’t you, who was it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You’re not helping your case.”

Ash tamped down his frustration. Taking it out on Portia was a bad idea. “Have I told anyone about the project? No.” No reason for her to know he’d told Taryn. “Could I have made a mistake? Sure, but it’s unlikely. I’ve been digging through Leopold’s files. I’ve covered my tracks as much as possible.” There wasn’t much else he could do, aside from turning himself in, which wasn’t going to happen.

Portia spun her chair around to face the windows. Rain streaked the glass, obscuring the usually clear view of the city below.

Ash automatically looked in the direction of Razor Jack’s. Not that he could see it from here, even on a clear day. It was obscured by a number of buildings. But he knew where it was—where Taryn was—almost instinctively. What the hell did that mean?

“I don’t know how my father juggled all this.”

Ash held his breath. He had no idea what to say. Portia had never struck him as the sharing type, yet here she was, talking like they were friends.

Silence was the best—the only—response.

“I wanted all this, you know. The business. The position. I know everyone believes I got this position because of my name, but I busted my ass to get here. To get noticed by my father, to be named a worthy successor. And for what? To be named CEO because he disappeared, leaving a giant fucking mess to deal with. What a joke.”

Holy shit. That was... that was the most human reaction he’d ever seen from her.

“That sucks.” The words slipped out. It was something he’d say to a friend, but making friends had never been his strong suit.

Portia swung back around and stared at him.

He held her gaze, waiting for the inevitable threats.

Instead, she burst out laughing.

Of all the things he’d expected, that wasn’t on the list.

“You’re the first person who’s dared to be honest with me. Yes, it sucks. A lot. A year ago I dreamed about running my family’s company with my husband by my side. But one terrible night and I’m stuck in this nightmare of questionable loyalty, bitter memories, and never-ending grief.”

It was hard to swallow past the lump in Ash’s throat. His regrets about his role in her nightmare was a living, breathing weight. He opened his mouth to apologize, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

Portia had noticed, though, and was waiting for him to speak. So he did.

“Have you talked to anyone about your feelings?” God, that was fucking laughable coming from him.

“Like my former best friend? The one who decided to fall in love with the half-sister I never knew about? Or maybe her?”

He nodded carefully. That was a... complicated situation.

She dropped her head onto the back of her chair. “Irony of ironies, they’re the only ones I really do trust. How messed up is that?”

“Pretty messed up.”

“Killian would bend over backward to help me. I think. Unless it involved that damn courier. He’s already shown he’ll choose her over me.” Was that jealousy or anger in her voice?

She sighed and picked up the picture of her husband that sat on her desk. “Dizzie? I don’t know. Don’t care to. I’ll never be able to look at her without remembering what she cost me. How Killian fell in love with her, I’ll never understand.”

Ash stifled a sigh. It was shockingly easy to fall in love with someone completely unsuitable.

“You fell in love?” Her tone was half curiosity and half actual concern.

He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. “Pretend I never said that.”

Was it even love? Or just gratitude?

“Is this the woman trouble they were teasing you about?”

“Yes.” Of course, Portia wouldn’t leave it alone. If anyone had told him that he’d be spilling secrets to Portia Tremaine without being tortured, he’d have laughed his ass off.

Time for a subject change. “Do you want me to focus on the leak or on Leopold’s trail?”

Portia raised a brow, her expression clearly indicating that she knew he was changing the subject. “Both,” she said again.

He shook his head. “I can’t do both. Not with our current setup. Let me have full access to the system.” Full access meant porting in. He’d do just about anything she wanted for the chance to surf the network again. It was so close he could almost taste it.

“I can’t,” she said.

Was that real regret in her voice?

“I don’t trust you,” she continued. “I want to. You’ve given me good information. At least, I think you have. But as soon as I let you off that leash, you could do unimaginable harm to me and this company and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

She was right not to trust him, but that didn’t mean her words didn’t hurt.

He wanted to earn her trust. The woman who was using his sister as a hostage. How fucked up was that?

This must be Stockholm syndrome.

“Fine,” he ground out. “I still can’t do it all. What do you want first?”

Since he didn’t bother to hide his annoyance, he expected a reprimand. Instead, she looked at him with pity.

Fuck her. He didn’t need her pity.

“Finish with my father’s assistant. I need to know how much damage he did that we haven’t discovered yet.” She paused, her gaze heavy on him.

He ignored it, focusing instead on the streaks of rain on the window behind her. That was how he felt especially with Taryn mad at him. Gray and washed out.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll get right on that.”