Page 8 of Girl Code
Mickey let him lead her back down the stairs of her apartment building and into the sunshine. It was so strange. Every time she thought this day couldn’t get weirder, it did. She looked down at her small, dark hand all but engulfed by Dante’s big, rough one. They hadn’t held hands… ever, that she could remember. Maybe when they were kids. Or maybe…. She tried to shake the thought away as quickly as it formed but seeing Dante had opened pandora’s box and the memories came back swift and in full focus.
The two of them wrapped around each other. Dark and light. Strength and desire. Their fingers intertwined above her head as Dante loomed over her. Her legs wrapped just as tightly around his waist as he thrust into her again and again and again. The way his hands had held her so tight, pressing her down onto the soft mattress, making her feel small and safe and cherished.
That was the last time they’d held hands. It had been the last time they did a lot of things. The first and the last, the beginning and the end.
Mickey shook off the thoughts and reminded herself once again that Dante was a cop now. She was a hacker. White hat day job or not, she’d done something illegal. He was risking his career helping her but she knew already what he wanted in return.
The small hard drive hidden in her purse. The one she’d copied the encrypted files to before she left for work. She’d planned to ask if Cameron would let her borrow his machines so she could decode twice as fast but she’d never gotten that chance.
Dante knew from one look at her upstairs that the hard drive existed just as she’d known from one look at him that it was the ultimate reason he was here… not her.
4
Dante was far too focused on the feel of her small hand in his. The way it was smooth and soft. The way her palm fit against his as if it had been made to be held in his. The way her fingers had twined with his as easily as breathing and more than anything, the way she hadn’t pulled away from him.
It felt like a miracle.
When he’d noticed her apartment door was kicked in, his instincts had gone into overdrive. He’d been a man on a mission. He’d cleared the apartment with as much professionalism as he could muster even when every instinct inside him screamed not to leave Mickey’s side. All he’d been able to think as he looked at the broken remains of her home, was how lucky he’d been that she wasn’t home when they’d come for her.
Then that phone call had come in and he’d known that it wasn’t over.
Mickey wasn’t safe. Not now. Not yet. Not when she had a second copy of the encrypted data that Keating’s people and NAGOR wanted.
The information that Dante needed if he had a chance in hell of salvaging this investigation… and keeping Mickey safe and out of jail.
He couldn’t believe she’d copied the data to a portable hard drive. No, that wasn’t true. This was Mickey. Of course he could believe it. He just didn’t know if he wanted to hug her for being so smart or shake her until her teeth rattled for not telling him sooner.
As soon as he’d learned she still had the information, a new plan had formed in his head. He would get her out of here, get her somewhere safe, and get her whatever equipment she needed to finish decrypting it. Once he had the data, he’d call it in to his superiors and get Mickey some sort of deal in exchange for her help in taking down NAGOR. It was the best possible outcome for all of them.
“Dante?” Her soft voice pulled him out of his plans and he blinked as he glanced back to look at her.
“Yeah?”
“Is it safe to talk out here?”
His gaze scanned up and down the street briefly but his eyes automatically pulled back to her, “Probably but we shouldn’t be in the open like this. We can talk when we get to the safe house.”
“Dante…” She started to say something else but before she could utter anything more than his name the sound of an engine revving and tires squealing caught his attention.
Dante spun to face the street, his gaze searching again and this time he saw the thing he’d been dreading. A white van had just rounded the corner onto the street and they were traveling fast, too fast, so fast that the sound of the rubber on the road had screeched out a warning. The van was coming towards them and Dante’s breath caught, knowing there wasn’t time to get Mickey to safety.
It all happened so fast. He screamed for Mickey to get down, to get behind him. He reached for her but his hand moved as though he was stuck in quicksand. The window of the van was down and he saw the shiny black metal of an automatic weapon before he heard the first pop of gunfire.
He tackled Mickey to the ground. Shots rang out in a burst of quick, staccato danger. Somewhere above them glass broke as bullets smashed into the apartment building behind them. Through it all, the one sound he heard above all others was Mickey’s scream of absolute terror.
He felt it like a knife in his chest. Pain bloomed and spread heat through every inch of him. He should have known they’d come for her like this. He should have put it together. That phone call. The definitive way the person on the other end said Mickey wouldn’t be hearing from them again. He’d known that couldn’t be the end of it, that they would want her dead just in case she’d seen any of that secret, illegal information. Yet he’d walked them out onto the street anyway, more focused on the feel of Mickey’s hand in his than in checking for the immediate danger surrounding them. He’d let her down, again, and this time he could have gotten her killed.
The sound of the vehicle speeding away accompanied the complete stillness of the street all around them. No more gunshots. No more breaking glass or shattering brick. There was only the sound of Mickey, still screaming, only now he could make out her words as he shook himself back into reality and work mode.
“Dante! Dante! Dante, get off me!” She was screaming and pushing at his chest and he groaned as he pushed up to give her some space.
She was tiny. He was a big man. He’d thrown his whole weight at her, crashing her to the concrete beneath him. He was probably hurting her. He was…
“Fuck!” His own harsh growl cut her off and she stared up at him with horror in her eyes that he knew must have mirrored his own. “Oh fuck, Mickey? Mickey, baby, you’re bleeding. Fuck. Fuck! Let me see. Were you hit?”
His hands ran over her shirt, searching for the hole that he knew must be there. She’d been shot. There was blood soaking through the black and white polka dot silk. He started at her shoulders and felt his way over her body, all the while apologizing and cursing and begging her to be okay. When his hands cupped her breasts, she slapped him away.
“Stop that!”
