Page 88 of Breaking the Rules
“Yes,” Xavier, Waverly, Micah, Chelsea, and Grigory chorused.
“First off, we can’t start digging based on the detective work of a hacker,” Travers cautioned. “No offense,” he tossed out to Chelsea.
“None taken,” she said, with a feline smile. Xavier narrowed his eyes at her. He was just getting used to seeing his sister as a hacker. He wasn’t ready to see her as a woman yet.
“We needlegalreasonable cause before I can take this anywhere,” Malachi continued. “Even the SEC is going to want something actionable before they go after the biotech firm or the studio.”
“So how do we get something legally actionable?” Waverly asked.
“California is two-party consent, so without a warrant, I can’t just send you in there with a wire and get Tomasso to spill his guts to you.”
“We wouldn’t be putting Waverly in that position in the first place, would we?” Xavier said coldly. He knew how the FBI would want to play it. Waverly holding all the cards was the best bait they could have in luring Brad out into the open and making an actionable threat. And that wasnothappening.
No one was putting her in harm’s way. Not this time and not ever again.
Waverly, of course, had other ideas. “What if an agent personally overhears a conversation that concerns him? He’d be ethically required to pass it on up the chain, wouldn’t he?” she asked.
Xavier’s fingers tightened reflexively on the arms of his chair. Their talk tonight was also going to involve her reckless willingness to become a target.
Travers reluctantly agreed. “That would warrant some phone calls, but these are Russian nationals,” he pointed out. “I don’t have jurisdiction.”
“But it’s an American company that’s playing espionage games with private entities, including one U.S. Senator who was blackmailed into retiring and supporting his successor,” Waverly argued. She pushed a file at him.
“Where’d you get this?” he asked, eyes skimming the text.
“This would be a very nice success on your bureau record. Are you in or out?” Xavier asked him.
Travers looked down at the file again. “Fuck it. I’m in.”
“We’ll get another room ready,” Xavier nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was well past midnight by the time Xavier and Waverly closed the door to their bedroom. It was actually a private apartment on the third floor secluded away from the rest of the house. A queen-sized wicker bed dressed in white sat under the room’s white washed rafters and faced glass doors that led to a tiny balcony where a bright sliver of moon was visible in the sky. In the corner, a small fireplace was ready to push off the autumn chill. The bathroom was charming with a Spanish tile floor, a small but serviceable walk-in shower, and a copper soaking tub.
It was a beautiful room in a beautiful house, but Waverly couldn’t help but feel like she was walking onto a battlefield. She’d had all day to think about what she’d say to Xavier and still felt unprepared.
He didn’t bother with the overhead lights or the bed. Xavier prowled across the room to the overstuffed couch along the wall. He slid his jacket off his shoulders and sat down, switching on a lonely lamp.
“Don’t you want to take your shoes off?” Waverly asked, toeing off her sneakers and stretching.
“Not until I’m sure you won’t run tonight.”
She looked down at her bare feet and back up at him.
“Never stopped you before.”
He was right, of course. She’d once jumped off of a yacht and swam to shore to get away from things she couldn’t control. He’d jumped after her and chased her down. The memory of that night slid over her skin like a warm caress.
Xavier had been there catching her when she fell, chasing her when she ran, and holding her when she stopped. And then one day he hadn’t been. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with that. It had taken even longer before she understood that she was responsible for herself. She couldn’t blame anyone else for holding her back. Couldn’t point the finger at someone who shoved her forward when she wasn’t ready. Couldn’t depend on someone else to clean up her messes. In the end, she was responsible for herself, and somewhere along the line, she’d come to like it.
But none of that took into account the feelings she had tangled up in Xavier Saint. Love to her was complicated and messy. She didn’t know if she was ready to make room for complicated and messy.
She sat down on the coffee table in front of him. “I don’t know where to start,” she said.
“You and Wrede,” Xavier stated, his voice low and quiet. But she heard the thick emotion there. He’d held it in all day giving orders, making arrangements, coordinating his small, rag-tag army, all to keep her safe once again. And now she owed him answers.
“We were never together,” she admitted in a rush. “It’s not good to mix personal feelings with a working relationship. We worked well together, but it never went beyond friendship. I trusted him to have my back, but our romantic relationship was a fiction created by agents and movie studios and exploited by Brad.”
