by Elsa Jade
He turned the damning gesture into a wave at Sol. “Go back up to the cabin. I’ll be there in a moment.”
With one more sidelong glance at Tyler that ignited a spark in the fynix’s eyes—and provoked Cross’s wyvryn to twist awake in a possessive huff—Sol pivoted on one boot and vanished between the trees.
Tyler was already scrambling out of the water and grabbing at her clothes. “Oh geez, that was embarrassing.”
“Not for you.” He held out layers of her clothing as she quickly dressed, unable to move his body out of the way even though he knew Sol had obeyed his order to leave. “I’m sorry you were startled.” Sorry to see her curves and angles disappearing, their impassioned connection disappearing too. “I thought we would have the morning at least since Sol wasn’t due to return until later today.”
She paused and peered up at him. “So why is he back?”
He gave her a grim look. “No good reason.”
The low clouds seemed no longer like a sheltering blanket and more like an oppressive smother, and Tyler didn’t reach for his hand on the way back.
Sol was pacing the open ground in front of the cabin but he wheeled to face them when they appeared.
“How did he get here?” Tyler’s voice was too low to carry.
Cross stiffened. Did she mean here on Earth? No way she’d suspect there might be a spaceship parked here… “You mean here at the cabin. He has a dirt bike, must be parked somewhere.” Although it was normally parked in the same open area where he’d put Tyler’s vehicle. Sol hadn’t hiked in. Which left only one method of travel.
Jaw flexing, he knew he’d have to talk to his crewmate. “You should wait inside, where it’s warmer.”
She gave him a look. “No. I’m not that embarrassed. And it was my work that someone was messing with.”
He would not demean what had happened between them, and he knew Sol was circumspect enough to watch his words around the uninitiated. This project mattered as much to her as it did to him and keeping her in the dark was only his ineffectual way of holding their night together like a sacred talisman.
With his wyvryn senses, Sol would’ve heard almost all of their conversation, but he stayed turned politely away until they approached. Only then did he pivot, his watchful gaze flicking between them. “I checked all the security footage and scans around the apartment and shop as you directed,” he said to Cross. “Didn’t see any sign of an intruder.”
Tyler wrinkled her nose. “I’m telling you, someone was on my system,” she said in a low voice, almost a growl.
Cross put his hand on her shoulder. “I believe you.”
Sol’s gaze was fixed on that point of contact. “So I sent Zenith to track.”
Cross bit back an oath. He had not authorized Zenith’s release. But as Sol’s steady look reminded him, he hadn’t been there to make that call. “Did he find anything?”
“Nothing,” Sol said.
Tyler stiffened. “I’m telling you—”
“Nothing at all,” Sol clarified, his gaze still on Cross. “Just a whiff of the room’s inhabitant and nothing else.”
“Hey,” Tyler protested. “I do get caught up in my work, but I still shower—usually.”
But Cross heard what his crewmate was implying. “So the rooms were scrubbed.”
Sol nodded. “Expertly.” He tilted his head with words unsaid.
Expertly, meaning extraterrestrial. Cross let out a hard breath. Whoever was interfering with Evens’ IDA plans had more resources at their disposal than Earth itself had available.
The beast tightened within him. Not only was this a challenge to his mission, it also endangered the survival of his crew. And the unknown intruder was a threat, however indirectly, to Tyler. And his beast would not allow that. “You found a more secure location for Tyler’s work?”
Sol nodded. “We moved all her things there. Everything is clean.”
“Hey,” Tyler objected again.
“You’ll know best what was done to your data,” he told her. “But you need a safe place to work.”
That silenced her.
“There’s more,” Sol said. “When I couldn’t reach you, I sent a message to Evens. But he didn’t respond either.”
Cross stiffened. “When?”
“About an hour ago. Despite his unpredictable schedule, he should’ve been home. I sent Zenith out again. He tracked him as far as the distillery where he said he had a meeting.”
“Also scrubbed?”
“No. But there is so much activity during construction it would be hard to tell. Zenith found nothing to continue the hunt.”
Cross gave a brisk nod. “Back to town,” he ordered. “Tyler will continue investigating the changes to the database. There might be a clue there who broke in and why.”
And what happened to Evens. Because if the enigmatic thrifter/grifter had disappeared, what was left for all of them?
Chapter 11
Tyler gripped the steering wheel as she bumped over the Sunset Lake trail to the main road. It was like being unkidnapped: driving herself back to town from an isolated cabin with a mysterious man.
What kind of silly woman wanted to stay caught?
Oh, maybe just the kind who was still pleasantly achy and lax from multiple orgasms and volcanic hot tubbing.
Aware of Sol silent in the backseat, she resisted the urge to glance at Cross or talk to him or even think about how the morning might’ve continued if not for the interruption. She was here to work; the rest had been…a lovely distraction. He had his head down over the smart watch back on his wrist, and the scowl wrinkling his brow suggested nothing good.
For such a little town, Sunset Falls was bustling when they pulled up across the street from the thrift shop, and she realized it was a weekend. After seven years of Silicon Valley startup energy, she’d forgotten what a weekend was. Damn Evens for disappearing right when she coulda had a real day off.
As she started to reach for the car door, Cross put his hand on her shoulder. “Wait.”
Oh, was he finally going to say something? Behind her, Sol slipped out. She waited.
Cross kept his gaze slanted across her, watching Sol go into the shop. Through the window, they watched the other man talk to Kailani.
“Is she safe there?” Tyler asked softly, gazing at the older woman laughing with Sol.
“You’re the one in danger with the database,” Cross said. “And Zenith is watching.”
They seemed to have a lot of confidence in this guy she hadn’t seen, but who had somehow managed to miss an intruder in her rooms. No point bringing that up though, since she suspected part of Cross’s tight jaw was his awareness of that fact. She should probably warn him about TMJ damage or he’d be wearing a night guard while doing his night guarding.
Cross looked down at his device again. “Nothing to learn here. Let’s go to your new workspace so you can check your gear.”
Okay, so he wasn’t going to address anything that happened between them or give her any answers? Not that she seriously expected otherwise, but…
She followed his directions across town to a small cottage at the end of an unpaved residential street. The little house nestled into the forest, covered by the shaggy pines above and wild rose hedges on both sides. There were no flowers this time of year, but the bright orange rose hips were as big and round and bright as jawbreaker candies. The front door was a strange incongruity of heavy, hand-planked oak beams and thick iron hardware obviously forged as one-of-a-kinds.
“Press your thumb to the latch,” Cross told her.
Giving him a disbelieving look, she did as she was told. He fiddled with his smart watch and the latch suddenly released under her touch with a heavy thud.
As they passed inside through the doorway, a faint thread of violet light passed across her. She put on the brakes. “What the hell?”
“Obviously we should’ve had the same protections at the shop,” Cross said, his tone both frustrated and wr
y. “But then you would just have questions.” He slanted her a quick, amused glance.
She snorted. “And your answers would be…?”
“Don’t you want to make sure that Sol set up your system correctly?”
She huffed again, but of course she did. All her gear was in a little back room that faced the forest. And except for the change of view, she might’ve thought she’d been here all along, with her screens arranged precisely, her mouse set where it wouldn’t strain her wrist. Even the teacup she’d borrowed that had clearly come from the shop below with way too many flowers inscribed all around the rim was set up where she always foolishly left her drink balanced near the edge of her workspace.
With one last grunt, she settled in the chair—which was much better than the chair in the apartment. “Just let me take a look,” she muttered.
When a faint chime interrupted, she ignored it until it got too loud. She yanked open the desk drawer and found a smart watch like Cross’s. When she touched it, words popped up on the surprisingly spacious screen: Stretch. Drink.
She huffed out a breath, but since it was reasonable advice and she liked devices—especially ones that might have a wifi connection—she strapped the watch around her wrist. She rose, went to pee just to show she didn’t have to be reminded of every little thing, then wandered into the kitchen. When she crossed the threshold, the microwave kicked on. She lifted one eyebrow. As far as she could hear there was no one else in the house. Her watch pinged again. Eat.
Intrigued, she went over and opened the microwave when it dinged. The smell of something savory flowed out. With another grunt—approving this time—she reached for the container.
Since she couldn’t find a hot mitt (what, were these guys impervious or something?) she pulled her sleeve down and trundled back to her computer with her prize.
In public, Brett had touted the camaraderie of once-a-week group pizza parties, but in private, he’d bitched about how she never remembered to take her tea out of the microwave when she rewarmed it. She could maybe get used to being reminded.
She finished off her lunch and her code review when the back of her neck prickled. She turned to blink at Cross who was leaning in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the jamb, his arms over his chest so that the muscles in his forearm popped in that way that was just tooooo much.
She cleared her throat. “You can just say hey.”
“I did, about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh.” She grinned at him. “Hey.”
Uncoiling from his stance, he stepped forward, holding out the tea cup that had been hidden in his hand behind his elbow. “Should I warm this up again?”
God, something in her was warming up again. And not just in her lady parts. She took a sip of the spicy chai. It was a little cooler than she preferred, but maybe it was a different kind of reminder—to chill out around this guy who seemed too sweet and thoughtful to be believed.
“It’s good, thanks.” She peered up at him. “I didn’t even notice you took my cup.” That should probably worry her, right? That he could get past all her defenses without even trying. “Did you find Evens?”
He shook his head. “What did you find?”
Another little squish of warmth went through her. He just figured she’d found something because he thought she was good at her work. Of course Brett had acknowledged her expertise—right up until he took it all.
She pivoted back to her computer. “I think they weren’t hiding from me like they are hiding from you.”
This was just a work for hire, she reminded herself, and she wasn’t going to get emotionally invested in anything in Sunset Falls. Besides which, what she’d found was confusing as hell, and she could use his insight.
She patted the arm of her chair. “Pull up a seat.” When he grabbed the overstuffed wingback in the corner and hefted it with zero apparent effort beside her, she forced herself not to lick her lips. She had her chai, and that would have to be enough. Along with the memory of orgasms. Uncounted orgasms.
She pointed at the screen. “Okay here you can see where I’m already starting to build architecture to contain the data that Evens supplied.”
“Oh yes, I can see that,” Cross drawled.
She laughed. “Okay, just pretend that I told you all the nerdy stuff, and you can just trust me that as much work as I got done was super impressive, borderline genius even.” She smirked at him.
But he nodded seriously. “I will suggest that Evens give you an early bonus.”
“Yeah, about Evens… See these empty holes? This is all the stuff that Evens didn’t give me. Now it’s not like I need every single variable. I’m only building the framework, basically, the structure that the data will fill. And that data would naturally expand and change over time, which my amazing architecture would account for. Especially when you consider that this type of data—how to connect people with something as ephemeral as a soulmate…” She frowned. “Well, you can imagine that’s not a hard and fast data point.”
“Unless she likes it that way,” he noted.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Hard and fast,” he repeated. Unlike her heartbeat, his smile was slow and sweet.
The flush that went through her was like a minute-thirty in the microwave—scorching. “Why, Cross, are you flirting with me?”
“Just trying to make sure I have a good grasp of this database architecture.” The quirk to the corner of his mouth was decidedly teasing.
She snorted. “If I was only trying to create the decision matrix for a new hookup app, that would be one thing. I mean, there are only so many combinations and permutations of human sexuality.”
The teasing grin on his lips flatlined. “Maybe that shouldn’t be counted either.”
Was he holding back something he hadn’t shown her last night? Another hot rush went through her. She hastened to reassure him. “There’s still plenty of room for kink, disability accommodation, physical ability ranges, identity and expression, beyond just preferences.”
Still he seemed serious. “If Evens left room for those uncountables, isn’t that a good thing? And can’t you adjust the architecture to make room for everyone?”
“I will,” she promised. “Actually, I already have. But that’s where it gets weird. The specs Evens requested included those holes that I assumed would be expounded upon later. And whoever broke into my rooms started to add missing info.”
Cross stiffened. “What kind of info?”
She summoned up a different view of the database and pointed again. “Here is where Evens had left a request for additional info without providing a baseline for what he’d want to see. I made a callout for the way that the program would consider that information, with allowances for how that callout would need to be adjusted based on whether or not the data was prioritized over other kinds of data.” She sneaked a glance at him, saw the familiar glaze in his eyes, quickly skipped ahead. “Anyway, whoever broke in, added what that info would’ve been. Here’s an example. Limb variability.” She gave Cross an incredulous look. “And not for fewer limbs, but more. Here’s another one. External surface preference, including texture, viscosity, and moistness.” She sat back in her chair. “Moistness? There’s a data point for how much someone sweats and whether they’ve grown an extra head?”
She laughed in disbelief.
Cross didn’t. “Maybe someone was just inputting random ridiculous data to interfere with your structure.”
“I wondered if the algorithm would be used for connecting cosplayers or furries, something more elaborate that he thought should be confidential. But then I found an attribute column linked to a biochemical and electrical compatibility chart for—get this—noncarbon life forms.” She boggled at him.
He gazed back. “Weird.”
“Very.” She bit her lip. “How well do you know Evens? Because I think this is something…else. And whoever broke in knew exactly what Evens had left out. Like they were sending
me a message.”
He went very still. “What message?”
“I don’t know. Yet.” She gave a brisk nod. “But I’ll figure it out.”
To her disappointment, he didn’t seem to appreciate her declaration. “Anything else?” He drummed his thumb on the cushioned seat of his chair, a muted thunder.
She frowned at him. “I hadn’t gotten much farther than that initial buildout. But I’d also started to layer in all the other facets of a connection that Evens wanted to prioritize—obvious things like family, religion, finances, all the ways any partnership might need to be configured for best connection. And those are all weird too.” She shook her head. “It’s like some sort of secret code. But what could be in a code about falling in love?”
“Yeah, how does that even make sense?” Cross’s voice sounded faint, his chin tucked into his chest.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I was kinda hoping you’d tell me.”
Slowly he angled his head to look at her. Though somewhere outside it was afternoon, no sunlight filtered through the thicket of evergreen and roses. Still, a strange light flickered in his amber eyes.
“I’m here to protect the project,” he said in a low voice. “And that means you too.”
“Protect me? Or protect the project from me?”
When he didn’t answer, the stab that went through her was much worse than any wild rose thorn. She closed her eyes for a moment. Stupid, stupid. She wasn’t part of this project. It was even less hers than Brett’s startup had been. And if there’d been a few hours where she felt a connection with Cross like nothing she’d experienced before… Well, that was just a couple disparate data sets passing in the night.
When she opened her eyes again, he was reaching for her, but she leaned back in her chair.
She let out a slow breath. “I haven’t found anything else of use in the incursions. But it was somebody who knew what Evens had given me. More than that, they had some sense of how I’d be organizing it. So maybe think about who else actually knows Evens’ project that well and has some technical expertise.” She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Not me, obviously.”