Page 16 of Reaper
She looks up at me. We are inches apart. The exhaustion, the adrenaline, and the sheer triumph of the long night collide in the small space between us. Her breathing hitches. Her eyes are wide, dark, and perfectly locked onto mine.
"We can't just kill him." The heat of her breath ghosts across my jaw. "Ares Global is too big. If you put a bullet in the CEO, the board replaces him and the network survives."
"Then what do we do?"
"We don't assassinate the man." Her eyes blaze with a sudden, dangerous fire. "We assassinate the corporation. I have the data to freeze every offshore asset they hold. But I need youto get me inside their primary server hub to trigger the final override."
The plan is reckless. It's brilliant. It's exactly the kind of lethal, high-stakes operation Guardian HRS was built for.
I look at the digital clock glowing on the screen. 0345 hours. In less than two hours, Frost's team will hit this mountain. The isolation will be over. The real war will begin.
She pushes back from the keyboard, turning the heavy wooden chair to face me. The intoxicating, high-voltage thrill of the breakthrough radiates off her skin, chasing away the bone-deep exhaustion of the long night. We actually did it. After four years of hunting ghosts in the dark, we broke the chain.
"We found him," she breathes, a fierce, unapologetic, triumphant smile breaking across her face.
She is completely electric.
The physical proximity slams into me. She sits in the chair, and I stand directly in front of her, my massive hands braced on the edge of the table on either side of her hips. We are close. The heavy scent of vanilla hits my lungs.
I look down at her.
She looks up at me. The triumphant smile fades from her lips, replaced by something much darker. The adrenaline of the long night sharpens, narrowing down to the six inches of air separating our bodies. Her breathing hitches. Her eyes go wide, dropping to my mouth before snapping back up to my gaze.
"Your friend won't be here until dawn," she whispers, the words barely audible over the crackle of the woodstove.
It is an invitation. An agonizing, terrifying invitation.
Every muscle in my body locks down. I shouldn't touch her. I'm a killer. I'm a ghost who exists only to bring violence to evil men. Touching her means dragging her into my darkness.
But I've been starving in the dark for four years. She's the only light I've ever seen, and the leash on my self-control finally snaps.
I surrender.
I close the distance, tangling my hand into the thick hair at the nape of her neck.
My mouth crashes down over hers in a desperate, bruising clash of heat and adrenaline.
SIX
The Dark Hours
ADDY
His mouth crashes down over mine, and the entire world shatters into sharp, jagged heat.
There's nothing gentle about the kiss. It's a collision.
Four years of starvation and absolute isolation break against my lips, pouring into me with a desperate, crushing force. His hands lock onto my hips, dragging me flush against the hard, unrelenting lines of his body.
I gasp into his mouth. The taste of black coffee, adrenaline, and pure male aggression floods my senses.
I wrap my hands in the heavy canvas of his tactical jacket, holding on as the gravity in the room completely flips. He doesn't ask permission. He doesn't hesitate. He moves with the terrifying, lethal grace of a predator that has finally caught its prey.
One massive arm sweeps across the scarred wooden desk. The ruggedized laptop, my hardshell drive, and his hit ledger hit the floorboards with a violent crash.
I don't care about the data. I don't care about the network.
His hands grip my waist, his thumbs pressing bruising half-moons into my skin through the thin thermal henley, and he lifts me onto the cleared edge of the table.
