Page 12 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

The pressure building in my knuckles suggests I'm considering breaking his wrist. I force my fist to uncurl.

"Target appears comfortable with technology and physical contact," I report, voice clinical despite the heat rising under my skin. "Digital activity coincides with his location. Possible match for Echo."

"You sure it's not just jealousy, Frost?" Jax cuts in, amusement coloring his tone. "First the coffee shop, now this. Never seen you track a civilian this closely before."

"Maintaining operational focus." The words come out clipped, more defensive than intended.

"Right," Jax drawls. "Totally professional interest. Got it."

But there she is, her movements flowing like water as she speaks, hands dancing through the air with every word. Nothing about her screams "dangerous criminal."

Everything about her screams "sunshine and coffee and things I shouldn't want."

"Facial recognition negative on male subject," Cole reports. "Running decryption protocols on multiple security layers. Whoever built his digital footprint knew what they were doing. Almost like—"

His voice cuts off as the digital signature abruptly vanishes from our systems.

In the same moment, Vanessa's eyes sweep across the room and meet mine.

The contact lasts exactly two seconds. Long enough for recognition. Short enough to seem accidental.

But nothing about it feels accidental.

Her gaze breaks away with practiced casualness, returning to her companion.

The conference hall dims as overhead lights transition to presentation mode. Announcements crackle over the sound system: "All attendees please proceed to Hall A for our closing keynote presentation on quantum encryption safeguards."

Perfect cover. Crowd movement, lowered visibility, ambient noise.

"I'm moving to intercept." I glide through the crowd, ducking and slipping between bodies. My focus locks onto the man—the potential Echo—but I'm acutely aware of Vanessa's movements at his side.

Cole's voice turns sharp in my ear. "The digital footprint has just vanished completely. No trace in the system."

"Both targets moving toward the east exit." I calculate the most direct path to their position.

The darkening environment creates new challenges, faces become shadowed, movement patterns less defined. Bodies press closer as the crowd funnels toward the main hall.

I adjust my approach angle, using height advantage to track them through the sea of heads.

"I've got eyes on the east exit," Jax reports. "Want me to cut them off?"

"Negative. I've got this."

A group of executives in matching company polo shirts blocks my path. I pivot around them, recalculating approach vectors. Three seconds delayed. Acceptable margin.

They're thirty feet ahead, moving with purpose but not rushing. Smart. Rushing draws attention.

But there's something else. The way they walk through the crowd, frequently moving into my blind spots. Like he knows exactly where I am without looking back.

Professional. This guy knows surveillance.

"West exit secure," Jax confirms.

The crowd thickens unexpectedly as a presentation releases its attendees directly into my path. Bodies press closer, creating a human barrier. I adjust course, sliding between conversations.

When I clear the obstruction, they're gone. Both of them.

"Fuck." The curse slips past my normally controlled vocabulary.

"What happened?" Cole demands.

I scan systematically, eliminating blind spots. "Lost visual. Both targets. Last position near the quantum computing display."

"The sniper who never misses... missed?" Jax's voice carries genuine surprise beneath the teasing. "Must be losing your touch, Frost. Or maybe getting distracted by pink hair."

The comment strikes closer to truth than I care to admit. I ignore him, moving with controlled urgency to their last known position. The space they occupied moments before now holds only empty air and the faint scent of coconut and vanilla.

Her scent.

Something catches my eye on the display table exactly where they stood. I approach casually, maintaining cover while reaching for what appears to be a USB drive.

Small, black, deliberately placed.

"Found something." I lift it between two fingers without touching areas that might hold fingerprints.

"Don't plug that in," Cole warns immediately. "Could be anything from malware to a tracking beacon."

"I know protocol." I try to keep annoyance from my voice as I secure the drive in an electromagnetic-shielded pocket.

"Bringing it in for analysis?" Jax asks.

Before I can answer, my phone vibrates once. Unknown number.

The message reads: Better luck next time, Frost. Some ghosts don't want to be caught. -E

My pulse quickens. They know my callsign. In addition to my real name.

"Blade, trace this number. Now." I forward the message directly to his system.

"On it." Rapid clicking carries through the comm. "Message came from... nowhere. Bounced through seventeen proxies before hitting your phone. Professional-grade encryption."

I stare at the message, mind working through implications. Echo knows who I am. Has been watching me specifically. The USB drive, the timing, the perfect vanishing act—all orchestrated.

So why does every instinct I've honed over years of hunting targets scream I'm missing something crucial?

Something shifts in my chest. A sensation I haven't experienced in years. I recognize it with professional detachment—the predator's acknowledgment of worthy prey.

And dare I say it, respect for an elusive target.

But beneath that lies something dangerously warm, completely at odds with the ice I've cultivated. My mind replays the way Vanessa's eyes met mine across the convention center—deliberate, knowing, lasting exactly long enough to send a message I can't decode.

For the first time in years, the ice within me begins to crack.

And I'm not sure if that terrifies me or thrills me.