Page 45 of Forbidden Bonds
He chuckles again and shoves himself back into his pants as I wrestle to drag my pants and panties up.
“Affirmative,” Zeb says into his communicator. “We’ve arrived.”
The words—and sudden deceleration as the SUV comes to a stop—slice through the bubble.
“Fuck,” Rhett mutters raggedly, and that fast, I know agoraphobia has taken command.
His bravery astounds me, even as my heart breaks for the circumstances that made him who he is: a hacker, a criminal, working with the government only when it suits him.
I love him.
This fast?
Rhett’s eyes meet mine—he just read my thoughts. The wall he usually maintains between us opens and all I feel is reflected back at me. His hand closes the distance to mine, warm and large, offering comfort.
I know nothing of tomorrow. Nor even of what awaits us today. Only the here and now.
“Ready?” Zeb swings his head to glance back at us.
“Yeah,” Rhett says, his jaw locking. He reaches over to push my hair behind my ear, then pulls my hood forward, shielding my face. “Let’s take this motherfucker down.”
Rhett
The other two SUVs peeled off earlier in the trip, their occupants set to rejoin us later if all goes well. For now, Larissa’s only protection is Zeb, a second soldier, and me, all of us in worn, casual clothes meant to blend in.
The streets outside the window hold a familiar vibe, and memories rise of the time when Lucian was still military and I was just a hacker in a one-room apartment, scratching out a living through illegal means. Whatever it took to survive.
I need to keep it together, focus on the end game where Larrisa is finally free and safe.
I step out, Larissa’s hand in mine. The brief stretch of sidewalk is not as bad this time, or more likely, I’m distracted, though I still break out in a cold sweat before we reach the building that looks like it went through an apocalypse and lost. The front door is busted out glass, and the foyer is littered with broken glass, an overturned couch and litter.
This might not be my safe place, but at least there’s no sky pressing down. Here I’m closed in. Contained.
Able to breathe.
Zeb takes point, leading us through a fire escape door, down two flights of stairs and through a graffitied up, surprisingly high-tech security door, and into a corridor beyond.
It’s like stepping into an alternative world, a warren of concrete corridors with the occasional door or room leading off, where only half the lights work, leaving mostly shadows, crumbling brick, and graffiti tags of various gangs and loyalties.
The tunnels span the whole non-dynamic sector, exits hidden in old buildings across the district. Easy to get lost. Easier still to end up dead if you stumble into the wrong kind. Down here they play by different rules.
Zeb moves with the ease of someone who’s walked this domain before. He probably has. I’ve read some of his files. Zeb Thorne is a black operative, the kind of man the government calls in when they want results and no questions asked.
Ahead, two men meet at a corner. Cash changes hands. One starts to size us up, but a sharp word from Zeb and he drops his gaze to the floor.
Yeah, I wouldn’t fuck with Zeb either.
Zeb pushes a rust-stained door open, leaving his partner on guard outside. Inside, a bare bulb flickers to life, casting shadows across gray concrete and dust. A desk. A jack in the wall.
He tosses me a pack. I pull out a small device and connect it to the port. “I’m in.”
“Good,” Zeb says.
Time to leave a breadcrumb. Subtle enough not to draw speculation of a trap, obvious enough that they don’t miss it.
I feel Larissa’s presence beside me, her awareness centered on me, even as she maintains a distance, letting me work.
“We’ve got interest…” I watch them probe my breadcrumbs. Slow. Careful. Testing the edges.
