Page 24 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

seventeen

Vanessa

"Oscilloscope, check. Signal booster, check," I mutter, aware of Asher watching from his position by the window.

His living room has transformed since I arrived; my coding joke coffee mugs among his tactical gear, a small succulent I insisted on buying "to improve air quality," and my hair ties appearing in random places like colorful breadcrumbs.

Morning light filters through his blinds, casting stripes across the equipment spread on his previously immaculate floor. I know it must bother him, this invasion of his space, but he hasn't said a word about it.

"Holy shit," I gasp, pulling out a sleek black device. "Cole actually included the YK-994 frequency analyzer! I'm impressed you convinced him to part with the prototype."

My fingers trace the device most hackers only dream about accessing.

Asher moves closer, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I had to promise him full access to your encryption algorithms in exchange."

I look up, surprised. "My algorithms? Those are proprietary. I don't share those with just anyone."

But I'm not actually annoyed. I'm touched that he negotiated on my behalf, recognizing what I bring to the table.

"He seemed to think it was a fair trade." Asher's eyes track my movements as I continue unpacking, his body relaxed in a way I'm recognizing as comfort rather than just tactical awareness.

I dive back into the box, chattering about potential modifications. "If we rewire this beacon to piggyback on their wireless signal, we can—"

My fingers brush against something nestled at the bottom. Heavy, metallic, and definitely not on my list. I drag it out, words dying as I recognize the specialized thermal imaging camera, one I mentioned wanting during a late-night rambling session.

I look up at Asher. "I didn't ask for this."

Asher shrugs, but there's something vulnerable in his eyes. "You mentioned it three nights ago. When you couldn't sleep and were explaining how thermal mapping could track movement patterns through walls."

My heart skips. He listened. Not just listened—remembered.

"I talk a lot when I'm tired. You weren't supposed to actually pay attention to my 3 AM rambling." My fingers trace the precision lens.

"I always pay attention."

The simplicity of his statement hits me with unexpected force. My mouth goes dry.

I clear my throat and set the camera carefully aside. "Thank you. This will seriously upgrade our surveillance capabilities."

I scramble to my feet, needing movement to process the flutter in my stomach. "Let's get everything set up. I need to configure all these components into a functional system."

I transform the corner of his living room into my surveillance command center, naming each piece as I position it.

"Han goes here," I murmur, adjusting my right screen exactly where I need it. "And Leia needs to be exactly 27.5 inches from him for optimal signal triangulation." I measure the distance with my arms, eyeballing it with practiced precision.

Asher watches, head slightly tilted. "And I assume this one is Obi-Wan?" He points to the central monitor I haven't placed yet.

My hands freeze mid-connection. "How did you know that?"

"It's the main one. The mentor. Makes sense."

Something warm blooms in my chest. He's not just humoring me—actually learning my system. Understanding my chaos.

"Very impressive, Frost," I grin, reaching for a cable at the same moment he does.

Our fingers brush. A current races through my arm, my breath catches. His hand stills over mine, warm and calloused. For a moment, neither of us moves.

"You need to..." His voice sounds deeper.

"What?" I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathless.

"Connect the blue cable to the signal booster first, not the red one."

"Oh." I blink, thrown by his technical correction. "You're right."

His lips curve slightly as he hands me the correct cable. "I've been watching you work."

The way he says it makes my skin prickle with awareness. Before I can respond, his phone buzzes. He checks the screen and steps back.

"It's Cole. I need to take this—final equipment configurations."

I nod, already sliding into hyper-focus as he moves away. My hands dart across keyboards, connecting systems, establishing protocols.

But my thoughts keep returning to the leftover heat where his fingers met mine, and how that mathematical, military mind of his somehow tracks which of my Star Wars characters goes where on my desk.

My fingers pause over the keyboard as the world outside my digital tunnel vision slowly returns.

The command center we've built glows in the corner of Asher's living room, all systems operational.

The late afternoon sunlight streams through the closest window, casting a harsh glare across Obi-Wan's screen.

I roll my shoulders and wince. According to my watch, it's after 6:00 PM.

"Five hours and seventeen minutes," Asher answers my unspoken question.

He moves with deliberate precision, adjusting each monitor by fractions to eliminate the sunlight's reflection. A bottle of water and two protein bars sit beside my keyboard. Untouched because I hadn't even registered their presence.

"You didn't tell me to take a break." I'm surprised. Most people constantly interrupt my flow, insisting I eat, drink, sleep; like I'm a child who needs reminding.

Asher's eyes remain on the monitors as he makes a final adjustment. "You were in your element. I recognize the zone."

Something warm unfurls in my chest. He understands.

"How's that?" he asks, stepping back from the monitors.

"Perfect." I crack open the water bottle and drain half in one go. "I've copied the Paradise Elite client database to our secure server. Their encryption was..."

"Amateur," he finishes, his lips quirking slightly.

I nod. "For an operation this sophisticated, they're surprisingly sloppy with their digital footprint."

Asher slides into the chair beside me, his forearm brushing mine as he reaches for the keyboard. His proximity sends a ripple of awareness through my body.

"Let's cross-reference their client list with financial transactions," he suggests, fingers moving with methodical precision.

I'm already three steps ahead, hands dancing over my keyboard. "And filter for recurring appointments that coincide with wire transfers to these offshore accounts."

"Add passport issuance dates," Asher says, not looking up.

"Already on it." My fingers type the command before he finishes speaking.

We fall into a rhythm; my chaotic lateral thinking jumping between datasets, his linear precision keeping our investigation anchored. I make connections through intuitive leaps; he follows with methodical verification.

"Wait, did you see that?" I point to a pattern emerging on Leia's screen. "Paradise Elite clients who meet with Jasmine or Daisy always make payments to this holding company within 48 hours."

Asher leans closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. "And that holding company transfers funds to—"

"Vertex Models!" I finish, my leg suddenly bouncing with frantic energy. "Look at these dates. Every time Paradise sends a girl on an 'international assignment,' Vertex processes a new model through their system."

My heart pounds as I tap commands faster, pulling up side-by-side photos. "It's the same women, Asher. Different names, different hair, but it's them."

I stretch, bones popping after hours of hunched-over typing. The evidence is irrefutable—a direct pipeline for trafficking women through seemingly legitimate businesses.

"I should get Slate to verify these findings." I reach for my phone. "His pattern recognition algorithms might catch something we're missing."

Asher's expression shifts subtly—jaw tightening a fraction. "Is he trustworthy?"

I pull up Slate's contact, finger hovering over the call button. "Slate showed me how to break into secured networks. He's solid."

"That doesn't answer my question."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Frost. He's trustworthy. He's been helping trafficking victims rebuild their digital identities for years."

Without waiting for approval, I start the video call, adjusting my position so Asher can see the screen. The room darkens as evening settles, our faces illuminated by the blue glow of multiple monitors.

Slate's face appears, typical bedhead and gaming headset in place. "Nessa! Tell me you haven't been kidnapped by Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Terrifying over there."

My cheeks flush. "I'm fine. We've found something huge."

I quickly share my screen, explaining our discoveries while pushing aside empty takeout containers. As I detail the connection between Paradise Elite and Vertex Models, my entire body vibrates with the thrill of breakthrough.

"...and look at the facial recognition matches. They're changing names, appearances, but it's definitely the same women."

Slate whistles. "Damn, girl. Your instincts are solid, as always."

I beam at the praise, but freeze when I catch sight of something on Leia's screen: a fragment of code I extracted from Vertex Models' security system. The signature structure, the elegant efficiency, the distinctive commented tags... they look like—

Could it be?

My stomach twists.

"Nessa? You okay?" Slate's voice pulls me back.

"Yeah, just... processing." I swallow hard, covering my confusion with a quick smile. "Can you run these financial patterns through your tracking algorithm? See if you can identify other agencies using the same structure?"

As they discuss technical details, I sense Asher's eyes on me, watchful and calculating. His hand finds my knee under the desk, a questioning touch that makes my skin tingle despite my troubled thoughts.

After ending the call, I stare at the code fragments, mind racing with uncomfortable questions.

"What did you see?" Asher's voice is quiet, too perceptive.

I stare at the screen, code patterns swimming before my eyes. The signature strings embedded in Vertex Models' security system look disturbingly familiar, almost like Slate's work.

Almost, but not quite—or am I just trying to convince myself?

I turn to him, caught between loyalty to my mentor and the unsettling pattern before me.

"It's complicated," I finally answer, pulling my legs up beneath me. "Slate and I go back years. He found me when I was nineteen, hacking financial institutions to expose predatory lending."

Asher's expression remains neutral, but his eyes never leave my face.

"He taught me almost everything I know about network penetration." My fingers tap nervously against the keyboard. "He's practically family."

"But?" Asher prompts, too perceptive.

I deliberately turn back to the monitor. "But nothing. I trust him. He's helped dozens of survivors rebuild their identities."

I can feel Asher studying me, watching me. I don't dare look directly at him while lying. I focus on our command center, screens casting blue light across his living room, equipment humming around us like a cocoon.

"Your organizational system is surprisingly methodical," Asher observes, moving to stand behind my chair. "Despite appearances."

His proximity sends a tingle of awareness through me. I force myself to keep typing.

"Chaos has its own logic," I reply, navigating through three different systems. "To you it may look random, but everything has its place in my mind."

Asher leans closer, his breath warm against my neck. "Like how you sort data packages alphabetically, but your physical equipment by function?"

A small thrill runs through me. He's been paying attention.

"Exactly. I—" My speech stops when his hand lands on my shoulder, the solid warmth of his touch sending warmth through my body. My fingers freeze over the keyboard.

"We need protocols," his voice low. "For this investigation."

I swallow hard. "Right. Like data security standards?"

"Among other things." His thumb traces a small circle at the base of my neck. "Boundaries."

I struggle to remember what we're talking about. His other hand comes to rest on the desk beside mine, our fingers nearly touching.

"Boundaries," I repeat. "Those are important."

"Very." He hasn't moved away. In fact, I think he's closer now, the solid heat of him inches from my back.

I turn my chair slightly, looking up at him. The blue light from the monitors highlights the sharp angles of his face, turning him into something otherworldly. Beautiful and dangerous. My heart hammers loudly in my chest.

His phone buzzes sharply, shattering the moment.

Asher straightens, checking the message. "Kade needs confirmation by morning."

I nod, turning back to my screens, but my fingers hover motionless over the keyboard. The code—with those familiar patterns—swims before my eyes, suddenly looking like a trap waiting to be sprung.