Page 15 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

ten

Vanessa

" S ix federal statutes." Asher takes a single step forward, his black tactical boots silent against my hardwood floors. "That's how many laws you've broken in the past five days."

The amber glow from my LED strips catches the sharp angle of his jaw, highlighting that faint scar near his temple. Even when he's threatening me with prison, the man looks like he stepped out of some tactical gear magazine.

My heart hammers against my ribcage, but I force a grin, fingers already fidgeting with the cable management on my desk. "Only six? I must be losing my touch."

Those dark brown eyes narrow slightly—the only tell that I've managed to surprise him.

"Technically, I didn't hack them." The words tumble out faster than intended as I bounce slightly on my toes. "I exposed flaws in the security architecture. And the tracking system is just passive surveillance. Big difference."

"Legally?" He deadpans. Why does that send heat racing through my veins?

"Legally, you're probably right about the federal statutes thing." I twist a strand of hair around my finger—the pink streak catches the blue light from Obi-Wan's screen. "But morally? I'm the good guy here."

Asher moves closer to my evidence board, and I get a whiff of his scent, cool peppermint mixed with sandalwood and something distinctly masculine that makes my brain short-circuit.

Concentrate, Vanessa.

His gaze locks onto financial flow charts I hadn't shown him before, deeper layers spread across photos and string connections.

"These connections go beyond what you shared earlier." Not a question.

"I kept the best intel for this meeting." The tactical vest rises and falls with each breath he takes. "Had to make sure you were worth the risk."

Asher picks up a folder from my desk, long fingers thumbing through pages of corporate filings. His hands are exactly what I'd expect—callused, scarred. There's a thin white line across his knuckles that looks fresh.

"And you decided to expose yourself based on what evidence?"

"Your team's intrusion signature." I spin toward my main terminal, fingers flying across the keyboard. "See this? Your encryption protocol is nearly perfect, except for tiny gaps where your custom code interfaces with standard security architecture."

For the first time, I see genuine surprise flicker across his features. Heat crawls up my neck as he steps closer, studying the terminal over my shoulder.

His presence behind me is intense. Warm. The scent of peppermint wraps around me.

"You found vulnerabilities in our system."

"Three of them. Nothing major, just authentication overlaps." I shrug, suddenly self-conscious about the messy bun my hair's twisted into. "I wrote patches that would fix them. Force of habit. When I find security flaws, I fix them."

He moves even closer, the heat of his body registering against my back. "This is advanced cryptography."

"Your team has better security than most government agencies I've seen." I bite my lower lip. "But there's always room for improvement."

Asher's attention shifts from the screen back to me, and those dark eyes seem more focused than before.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice drops lower. "What's your stake in this?"

I turn to face him fully, which puts us way too close together. "Because it matters. Because women are disappearing, and no one seems to notice or care. Because systems fail the vulnerable, and sometimes the only way to fix that is from outside the system."

I gesture toward the projection on the wall. Photos of missing women whose cases went cold. The purple LED backlighting makes everything look ethereal and sad.

"I don't need personal connections to care about injustice. The data tells the story—these women vanish into controlled circumstances, their digital footprints manipulated to suggest everything's fine."

My fingers find the stress ball shaped like a miniature keyboard, a gift from my cousin Paolo. The repetitive motion helps organize scattered thoughts.

His expression doesn't change, but something shifts behind those eyes. "You could have taken this to law enforcement."

"With what evidence?" I shake my head. "Suspicions based on encrypted files from a dead journalist? Financial patterns that look legitimate unless you know exactly what to look for? I'd be dismissed before I finished explaining. Or arrested."

"So you hack secure systems, steal personal information, conduct illegal surveillance, and then propose collaboration?"

Every nerve ending fires at once as danger, attraction, and defiance mingle into this cocktail of adrenaline.

"I decided to follow the evidence wherever it led." I plant my feet and hold my ground even though my skin hums with awareness at how close he stands. "It led to the same targets you're investigating, but with resources I can't access. I'm hoping that means we're on the same side."

"There are no sides in this." His voice drops even lower. "Just people who understand the danger and people who don't."

"Then help me understand it." The words come out softer than intended. "Because there's something else. Something local that changes everything."

Those dark eyes sharpen with interest.

I pull up a new screen, geographic data overlaid with financial records. "Vertex Models appears legitimate on the surface. But look at this—financial transfers, staffing patterns, client acquisition methods."

The data flows across multiple monitors in patterns that feel like visual music. Red lines connecting shell companies, blue highlighting suspicious transactions.

"It's all here, twenty minutes from my apartment."

"Local intelligence." He studies the data, glancing at my family photos clustered beside my monitors.

"Actionable intelligence." I follow his gaze to the photos. "While the expanded network proves scope, this gives us immediate action potential."

My eyes land on last year's family reunion photo. Everyone crowded around Lola's dining table. Asher's eyes follow mine.

"That's my ate Mikaela," Seeing his puzzled look, I explain, "ate means older sister in Tagalog. And that's kuya Miguel, kuya is older brother."

Something almost soft crosses his features before the tactical mask slides back.

"Large family."

"Huge. Filipino families don't do small." I trace the edge of the miniature jeepney on my desk, the model vehicle hand-painted in traditional bright colors.

"They all wanted me to be a doctor. Or at least finish MIT. But no. I'm here, breaking federal laws and disappointing everyone."

"You're helping people." Simple, matter-of-fact.

"Try explaining that to my mother." I laugh hollowly. "As far as she knows, I freelance in 'computer consulting' while I'm not wasting my time as a barista."

Asher moves even closer, deliberately entering my personal space.

"You're making dangerous assumptions about my willingness to act on unverified intelligence."

"Am I wrong?" The words come faster now. "You're here instead of arresting me. You're analyzing my data instead of confiscating it. That suggests interest beyond simple law enforcement."

He doesn't confirm or deny, just continues studying me with clinical precision.

"How did you isolate Vertex from the larger network?"

"Pattern recognition." I pull up a comparison screen showing multiple agency structures. "Most operate through identical shell company frameworks, but Vertex has subtle variations. Custom modifications that suggest local autonomy."

I gesture at financial records flowing in real-time. "They're testing new methods here. Sacramento isn't just another node, it's a prototype location."

For the first time tonight, genuine surprise flickers across his expression. This intelligence is new, valuable.

"What exactly are you proposing?" His voice carries weight.

"Partnership." I meet his gaze directly. "I provide digital forensics, pattern analysis, real-time intelligence gathering. You provide action capability, resources I can't access, ability to rescue actual victims."

My hands gesture rapidly—motion helps organize thoughts.

"And if I refuse?"

I shrug, fingers drumming against my thigh in nervous patterns. "Then I continue alone. Keep monitoring Vertex Models. Eventually find what I need to act independently. Because I'm not stopping, with or without backup."

Asher steps even closer, and suddenly the space between us feels charged with tension that's part professional, part something I don't have words for.

I push against his chest, but it's like pushing against a wall. My palms flatten on the vest, and underneath solid muscle and his steady heartbeat thrums against my touch.

His hand captures my wrist effortlessly, fingers circling without pressure—just holding me immobile with casual strength.

"Don't." The single word contains volumes of warning.

"Or what?" The words come out breathless, challenging. My free hand finds the tactical vest at his collar. "You'll arrest me? Report me? I've got contingencies for everything."

His dark eyes burn into mine, pupils dilated. "You have no idea what you're provoking."

"Maybe I don't care." Heat floods my system as I meet his stare. "Maybe I'm tired of watching from a distance while more women disappear."

The shift happens in an instant. His free hand moves to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair and dislodging the messy bun completely. The grip is firm, controlled—just tight enough to establish dominance.

In one fluid movement, he pulls me forward and claims my mouth with his.

The kiss isn't gentle. It's possession. Pure, calculated dominance delivered with tactical precision. His mouth moves against mine with methodical intensity, as if he's mapped every vulnerability and decided to exploit them all.

My body betrays me instantly. I don't push him away and my hands clutch at his arms, fingers digging into solid muscle. Heat explodes low in my belly, spreading outward like liquid fire until I'm burning everywhere his body touches mine.

The rational part of my brain shuts down, overwhelmed by sensory overload—his taste, his scent, the way his stubble scratches against my skin with delicious roughness.

Asher tastes like the tea from earlier, green tea with citrus and mint, but underneath something darker, more dangerous. His fingers tighten in my hair, angling my head exactly how he wants it. The gentle tug makes me tremble from head to toe.

His other hand spans my waist, pulling me flush against him. The tactical vest presses against my chest, hard edges contrasting with the heat radiating from his skin.

There's nothing accidental about how he claims my mouth, nothing unplanned about how his body presses mine back against my desk.

Just when I think I might combust from the heat building between us, he breaks the kiss. His breathing is controlled despite the intensity, but his eyes have darkened to near-black.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I struggle to remember how breathing works.

"You've been playing a dangerous game." His voice is rough, gravelly.

The warning is clear, but the hunger in his eyes makes me want to keep playing.

His fingers travel from my hair down to my neck, palm resting against my throat without pressure—marking ownership rather than threat. I can feel my pulse hammering against his hand. He moves his thumb to rub my lips.

Waves of heat rush through my entire body at the intimate contact.

"Game's just getting started," I whisper against his thumb.

His eyes narrow slightly. He steps back with deliberate slowness, releasing me as if to demonstrate his perfect control.

The loss of contact makes me immediately colder, and I grip the edge of my desk to stay upright.

"We need to establish parameters." His voice returns to clinical precision. "If—and that's a significant if—we share information."

My body still hums with awareness, but I force my brain back online. "I work best behind the scenes. Digital trails, system analysis, pattern recognition."

"Noted." His expression gives nothing away. "And yet you've put yourself directly in my path."

"Sometimes you need to move from background to foreground to get results." I try to steady my breathing. "But my analytical talents are in the digital realm. That's where I can help most."

He considers this, then gives a single, curt nod. "Your digital forensics and local intelligence could be... useful."

The closest thing to a compliment I'll get. "So we have an agreement?"

"Conditional agreement." He straightens, resuming perfect military posture. "Pending verification of your Vertex intelligence and establishment of secure communication protocols."

"I can set those up now." I gesture toward my system. "Create an encrypted channel that even the NSA couldn't crack."

"Tomorrow." His tone brooks no argument. "I need to consult with my team first."

The reminder that he's not operating alone sends a chill through me. This partnership involves more than just the two of us.

"When do we start?" I ask, trying to sound businesslike despite my still-racing pulse.

His expression doesn't change, but something dangerous lurks behind those dark eyes.

"We already have."