Page 18 of Vital Signs

Misha blinked. His grip on the wheel loosened. "Oh."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I was prepared to argue." His lips quirked. Almost a smile. "You ruined it."

"Want me to take it back? Give you something to fight about?"

"Maybe later." The smile grew. "When we're not in a public parking lot."

I cleared my throat. "Where do you want me?"

His eyes darkened. Dropped to my mouth, then back up. "What?"

"To drop me off. Where?"

"Right. Yes." He put the van in gear, movements jerky. Flustered. "The underpass?"

Good. Let him be off-balance for once.

"Yeah."

Misha pulled out onto the road, driving in tense silence. The confrontation with Wright replayed in my head on loop. The gaslighting, the threats, the way he'd turned my entire past into a weapon.

He nodded, taking the turns without needing directions. When he pulled over near the underpass, he kept the engine running.

I stared out at the dirty underpass. “Now what?”

"We rattled him. You saw it." Misha held up the badge he'd stolen. "And we got this."

"So? What's that going to get us?"

"Access," he explained. "Wright won't start purging files right away. He needs that paper trail to get paid and to cover his own ass. But if we come back after hours…"

"You want to break in and steal those files?" I shook my head. "He just had us followed. He's probably putting extra security on everything right now."

"Do you have a better plan?" He lowered the pass. "If this is too much for you, then say the word. I don't need your help if you're uncomfortable with a little B and E."

"I'm good with it," I said. "Just want to make sure you know what you're getting into."

Misha smirked. "I have a family meeting tonight. But after that, we find the files, the real data about his trials."

"And then?"

"Then we make him pay." He got out his phone and passed it to me. "Put your number in here. I'll call you after."

His fingers brushed mine as I took the phone. Just a simple touch, but it sent electricity up my arm. Made me wonder what those hands would feel like in other places. Everywhere.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. This felt significant somehow. Like more than just exchanging numbers for an investigation. Like giving him a way to reach me whenever he wanted. Like wanting him to reach me.

When I handed it back, our fingers touched again. Lingered this time. Neither of us pulled away immediately.

Misha's breath caught.

"Don't make me wait too long," I said, voice rough.

"For the break-in?" His eyes said he knew that wasn't what I meant.

"Sure. The break-in."