Page 42 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Did you hear that, Cole? Asher thinks your design is just 'fine.' That's like the harshest criticism possible from Mr. Perfect over there."

I ignore her comment and reach for the next piece—a thin microphone designed for close-range listening. As I extend my hand, Vanessa reaches for the same device.

Our fingers brush unexpectedly.

Electric current shoots up my arm, completely disrupting my concentration. For a moment, everything narrows to the feeling of her skin touching mine—warm, soft, sending signals through my body that have nothing to do with the mission.

Vanessa pauses too, her rapid conversation with Cole suddenly stopping as she looks up at me with those dark eyes that seem to catch every little detail.

I pull my hand back first, breathing carefully to hide my reaction. "Take it. I'll check the glasses instead."

She studies my face a moment longer than necessary, that playful smile at the corners of her mouth suggesting she knows exactly what effect that touch had.

The face recognition glasses need my attention. I run tests while my brain works through math problems designed to restore my calm.

"You know, you've been watching my hair a lot lately." Vanessa's teasing tone carries across the space between us.

"What else about me have you been analyzing, Frost?" There's a teasing lilt in her voice when she says my call sign.

I refuse to answer directly, instead continuing my work with greater intensity.

"Standard earpieces stick out from the ear. Your hair falls past your right earlobe. Mission rules say equipment must be hidden from casual view."

"And here I thought you were just admiring the view." Her blend of confidence and playfulness makes my chest tighten. "Don't worry—I've already solved the hiding problem. This new version sits almost flat against the ear. Nobody would notice unless they're weirdly interested in looking in my ears."

I take the modified earpiece and examine her work. The redesign is impressive—much smaller, better battery placement, improved signal.

"This will work." My reluctant admission comes out gruffer than intended. "But changing standard equipment usually—"

"Breaks the rules, creates unexpected problems, and makes missions riskier." She finishes my sentence, perfectly copying my speech pattern. "I know the entire Asher Cross Rulebook by heart at this point."

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a second modified earpiece, holding it out with a softer expression. "Made one for you, too. Figured your boring regulation haircut wouldn't hide much, anyway."

I take the device without answering right away, but something tightens in my chest. She spent extra time making special equipment just for me.

She thought about what I needed. Considered me specifically.

The armory doors slide open, and Kade enters with his commanding presence, his massive frame filling the doorway.

"Weather report just came in. Storm getting much worse over the next two days. Heavy rain with possible power outages downtown."

My mind immediately starts calculating implications. "Communications could go down. We'll need waterproof backup equipment and extra ways to stay in contact."

"Already on it." Vanessa's fingers fly across her tablet. "I'm setting up backup systems that can use the city's emergency channels if needed."

"Is that legal?" Kade raises an eyebrow.

"Is anything we do?" She counters cheerfully, without looking up.

Kade's expression stays the same, but a small twitch appears at the corner of his mouth.

"Rain gives us more cover, but makes it harder to see and complicates getting out fast if needed."

My mind races through different scenarios. Vanessa navigating through crowds at a formal event in an elegant dress with no gear. Vanessa facing potential threats while I'm positioned to watch from a distance instead of protecting her up close.

Each mental image darkens my mood even more.

"Weather not meeting your perfect mission standards?" Vanessa nudges my elbow with familiar ease.

I don't answer right away, instead picking up one of the surveillance cameras to check if it's truly waterproof. The thought of her in danger makes my hands want to clench into fists, but I keep my movements controlled and measured.

"We'll continue preparing and adjust plans accordingly." Kade pulls up detailed weather maps with ultimate authority. "Vehicle routes might need major changes if streets flood near the venue."

As he outlines various backup plans, Vanessa bounces slightly on her toes, excitement and nervous energy radiating from her small frame. She catches me watching her and gives me a quick wink.

I return my attention to my gear, checking each item one by one with fresh resolve.

My living room has become a mission control center. Plans cover every surface, technical equipment fills corners usually kept empty, and Vanessa is once again in my personal computer systems—something I allowed without my usual security checks.

Outside, the storm pounds against my reinforced windows with growing strength, rain hitting glass in sheets lit up occasionally by lightning flashes.

"Storm's definitely getting worse." Cole doesn't look up from his tablet, fingers moving across the screen as he monitors multiple information streams.

"Air pressure has dropped significantly in the last hour." I move toward the cabinet where I keep emergency supplies. "Power failure becoming more likely."

My prediction comes true exactly sixteen seconds later when every light in the house goes out at once, plunging the room into complete darkness.

I've moved through this space blindfolded, to know where everything is even in the dark. My hands find the flashlights exactly where they should be—third drawer, right side, arranged by size and battery life. I hand them out efficiently.

"Backup power coming on in three seconds." The emergency systems activate automatically as I speak.

Cole moves immediately, grabbing battery packs for essential equipment. "Keeping communications and surveillance working first."

Jax flicks his light on, lighting his face from below in dramatic shadows. "Think of this as rehearsal for tonight. If the power goes out during the gala, at least we'll know who screams first." His eyes drift toward Vanessa with that familiar smirk.

"Stay on mission, not useless comments." My controlled irritation comes through clearly.

The emergency lights activate throughout the house, casting everything in dim blue light. Vanessa hasn't moved from her position at the main display, her attention remaining absolute despite the chaos around her.

The power outage seems to trigger something in her brain—her movements become measured and controlled in a way they rarely are normally. Her usual constant motion settles into purposeful efficiency.

"If the storm affects our communications during the operation, we'll need backup systems here, here, and here." She calmly highlights specific points on the digital map. "I've already planned alternative channels that should work even with the bad weather."

Kade leans forward, studying her analysis. "How long to get everything ready?"

"Two hours to get it all working together." Her response comes without hesitation.

I move closer to her position, automatically placing myself between her and the rest of the team. From here, I can watch both her progress and keep an eye on all the room's entry points at the same time.

Throughout the planning session, I keep recalculating distances and potential threats: How far is Vanessa from the nearest exit?

How quickly could I reach any danger? Where are team members in relation to their assigned positions?

The variables keep changing, requiring constant mental adjustment to maintain optimal security.

Why am I calculating protection plans for team members who aren't designated protectees?

Kade catches my eye from across the room during a pause in discussion. His expression reveals nothing to the others, but the subtle assessment is clear. He's caught my adjusted positioning, my frequent glances toward Vanessa, my changed patrol behavior around the room.

The digital clock shows 11:46 PM. The storm shows no sign of letting up.

Kade closes his folder with decisive finality. "We need rest before the mission. Teams of two will monitor weather in four-hour shifts. Cole and I will take first watch. Jax and Xander handle second shift. Cross, you and Vanessa take final monitoring shift before we meet again at 8:00 AM."

The team disperses efficiently toward assigned rest areas throughout the house. Cole heads upstairs, his heavy footsteps echoing on the hardwood stairs as he makes his way to the second-floor office where he can monitor communications from the elevated position.

The tactical planning room will give him clear sightlines to all approaches while maintaining contact with HQ.

Kade moves toward the basement level, descending the steel stairs to the underground secure command post, reinforced walls providing natural protection while keeping him close to the weapons vault if needed.

Jax claims the side nook near the concealed exit to the yard, positioning himself where he has quick access to hidden weapon caches. Xander heads toward the stairs, most likely taking the third floor.

Vanessa gathers her essential equipment and moves into the kitchen, setting up her portable workstation on the waterfall island. The kitchen keeps her tech work separate from the main display. Her fingers continue flying across her laptop as she fine-tunes the security bypass protocols.

The house settles into watchful quiet, each team member positioned strategically throughout the three-story structure, turning my home into a fortress with overlapping fields of observation and protection.

"You should try to get some rest." I position myself near the display to monitor her work.

She doesn't look up from her rapid typing. "Can't shut down right now. Brain's running too many processes at once."

"Vanessa." I place my hand on the counter near hers, close enough to feel her warmth but not actually touching. "Tomorrow's mission requires you to be at your best mentally."

She finally looks up at me, her expression somewhere between irritation and affection, in a way that creates uncomfortable feelings I'm not equipped to handle.

"Is that your tactical way of saying you're worried about me?"

The honest answer to her question scares me more than any combat situation I've ever faced. I default to my standard assessment approach.

"It's my way of saying I've calculated every variable I can control. Your rest falls within that category."

"And me personally?" Her voice softens. "Do I fall within your controllable category, too?"

Before today, I would have had an immediate, exact response based on established protocols. Now, I'm completely without words, trying to process feelings that don't translate into tactical language or math formulas.

Kade passes behind me, pausing just long enough to murmur in a voice only I can hear, "The answer is no, she doesn't fall within your control. That's exactly what scares you."

He continues toward the exit without another word, leaving me alone with a fundamental truth I'm not psychologically equipped to handle, standing beside a woman who has somehow changed from a manageable mission variable into something I cannot calculate, cannot predict, and cannot bear the thought of losing.

She's become the most critical mission factor. When did that happen?

Why does her safety matter more than mission efficiency?

For the first time in my career, I'm facing variables I cannot solve with mathematics or control through careful planning.

And that realization terrifies me more than any enemy I've ever survived.