Page 72 of Breaking the Rules
“Remind me to consult with you about all of my future decisions,” Waverly quipped.
“Maybe just start with this one and go from there,” Calla suggested. “Xavier’s a good man. Anything he does? It’s not to hurt. It’s to protect. That’s how he shows his love.”
Her mind flashed to their final scene together all those years ago. The pool house, eerily quiet and empty after he left. Was Calla right? Had he left her because he didn’t believe he could protect her anymore?
Waverly sat back in her chair and held her glass with both hands. “I was insanely jealous of you,” she confessed.
“Back at you,” Calla said raising her cup in a toast.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My bed tonight?
The text from Waverly pulled him out from under hours of work. Xavier had tried to isolate his personal connection to her so he could be objective. But it was an impossibility, and in addition to his anxiety about her dangerous second career, he found a growing pride. She was damn good. So good that, under other circumstances, he would have head hunted her to bring her onboard at Invictus.
She had instincts and talent, and she’d committed to her training, and it paid off. Not only was she able to successfully build cases and handle assignments, but her gut had told her that something was off with Target.
And she’d been right.
Cayman and his team noticed a subtle pattern starting nine months ago. While there were still legitimate investigations that could be traced back to the intelligence community, there were also a handful of assignments that had gone unclaimed by any one organization.
Waverly had forwarded him some preliminary information on the money trail that her hacker friend had unearthed. The studio was showing some nice profits under “consulting services” with deposits lining up with several of the confirmed jobs. The mystery hacker had also unearthed an account under a shell company in Luxembourg and traced it back to Tomasso.
Interestingly enough, a deposit in that account lined up with the initial Stepanov assignment Waverly accepted. They’d find more. Xavier was sure of it.
He texted her back, feeling warmth slide through his belly as he reread her invitation.
Your bed, your table, and your tub.
Her response brought a curve to his lips.
Aren’t we feeling cocky in our prowess? I’ll be home in an hour.
An hour’s good. I’ll make sure my hands are the only ones you remember on you today.
He turned back to his screen, prepared to start wrapping up, when something caught his eye.
Brat5t0rm.
Waverly’s hacker went by the moniker BratStorm. The anticipation he’d felt moments ago went to ice in his veins. He closed his eyes, opened them again, and refocused on the screen. The tag was still there.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
He’d called his sister Chelsea “bratstorm” since they were both kids, and she’d used every one of her waking moments to annoy him. His sister, the network security administrator. His sister who had hit it off with Waverly when he brought her home all those years ago.
“Fuck.” He shoved back from his chair and shut the computer down quickly as if he was afraid the information would leak out of the system and go public. His future wife was a spy, and his sister was a freaking hacker. If he found out that his college professor mother moonlighted as a stripper, he was going to lose it.
He picked up his desk phone.
“Do you have a profile on this BratStorm?” he asked Cayman when he answered the phone.
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Waverly was more than ready for him by the time Xavier finally walked in the front door. Not only did she have more money trail news from Chelsea, but her body was revved for him. She’d chosen her lingerie carefully. The black Agent Provocateur bodysuit was cut low at the breast and high on the hip. She topped it with an open flutter sleeve robe and left her hair down and curling past her shoulders.
When he let himself in, Waverly perched on the arm of the couch in the great room. And when he spotted her, he tossed the files he carried onto the table and didn’t slow his speed. He knocked her backward over the cushions and followed to cover her body with his.
She lost her breath when he kissed her fiercely. There was anger in the kiss, a roiling, dangerous rage that she didn’t understand. But she was lost to anything but his touch. He pulled back, and she could see it in his eyes. He was furious but in control. And with those tight strings of control engaged, he traced his fingers over her neck, across her clavicle, and down the plunging V of the body suit to the coin that hung on the long chain.
