Page 41 of The Honeymoon Hack
“You look fantastic.” I could have used so many other words. Gorgeous. Sexy. Absolutely perfect. I spread a towel on her lounger, forcing my eyes away from the blush climbing her throat. “But certainly in need of some sun. Just lie down. No one’s watching you.”
Except me.
“You know,” she said as she sat, placed her glasses on the small table between our two loungers, and rolled onto her back, “I always thought I’d hate fieldwork, but there’s something satisfying about being in the thick of it.”
“Don’t let Scarlett hear you say that.” I tore my gaze away from her and dug my satellite phone from my backpack, activating the custom beta software. “She’ll start questioning why she doesn’t bring you along on every job.”
Rav materialized from further down the beach, moving with his characteristic unhurried gait. He’d changed into board shorts and a tank that revealed many of his tattoos, including the scorpion over his left shoulder, which covered surgical scars. He paused near our setup. “Interested in a game of volleyball?”
“My wife and I were looking for a little more private time,” I said, tapping my phone screen twice while maintaining eye contact. The connection indicator flashed green. His earpiece—the standard low-profile one we normally used—was connected.
“Say no more.” He gave a slight nod. “I’ll be near the water, but close if you need anything.”
I sat on the edge of my lounger, angling the satellite phone to catch the signal while appearing to browse social media.
“Initiating secure connection,” I murmured.
Scarlett’s voice came through clear and immediate. “We’ve got you, Will. Full team is assembled.”
“Roger that.” I glanced at Brie, who tucked one arm behind her head and closed her eyes. “Rav, you online?”
“Copy.” His update was characteristically brief. “This is my sole communication method, and I think we need to make it fast. There are too many people around. I’m shadowed during my shift. I’ve identified several areas where we can speak, and I’ll coordinate with the on-site team. I’m out.”
“Understood.” I continued staring at my phone, as if it were more interesting than the gorgeous locale. Honestly, it kept Brie in my periphery, and she was the finest scenery of all. “Server room access is more restricted than expected. My badge won’t grant independent access to the server racks until the three-month probation period is over. I’ve established rapport with a senior tech with higher clearance. He’s already bypassed protocols to include me in restricted-area maintenance. Once Brie identifies the target server location, I may be able to leverage this relationship.”
“Excellent progress,” Scarlett responded. “Brie?”
“I have the same problem as Will and Rav—new employees can’t do much on their own, so I’ll have to find a way to obtain higher access.” Brie adjusted the arm under her head, peeking one eye open to squint at me. “I’ve identified potential vulnerabilities in their authentication sequence. I want to observe their security card provisioning process to see how they generate and assign access credentials.”
“I’ll speak with Gideon,” Drew said. “See if we can arrange?—”
“Movement,” Rav interrupted. “Claire, at Brie’s three o’clock, approximately sixty feet and closing.”
My heart rate spiked. I kept my face toward my phone, but angled my eyes in her direction. Navy blue sundress, oversized sun hat, casual pace, and definitely headed toward us.
“We’re not finished,” Scarlett said. “Rav, can you intercept?”
“Negative. I’m at Brie’s nine o’clock and too far away.”
“Fake-out make-out,” Emmett said over the earpiece. “Fieldwork 101. Make it appear intimate enough, and she’ll change course. No one wants to interrupt that.”
My eyes met Brie’s, but the way she was squinting, I couldn’t make out her reaction. Claire was maybe forty feet out now, heading directly toward us. We had to move fast or end the call.
“Make it convincing,” Emmett continued, his tone shifting to instruction mode. “Body positioning is key. She needs to believe you’re too wrapped up in each other to notice her approach, and definitely so wrapped up that it would be really uncomfortable for her to interrupt.”
Just the mission. Fieldwork 101.
I shifted to her lounger, one leg on the sand for stability and the other between her legs. Hovering above her, I whispered, “You all right?”
Instead of answering, she moved the hand from underneath her head and reached for me, her fingers curling gently around my neck. Two deliberate taps of her finger on my neck—the standard Reynolds signal that said to proceed.
I lowered myself over her, one arm bracing near her head as Emmett had suggested. Our faces were inches apart. Her jaw clenched, but her free hand ran down my ribcage.
And then we kissed.
It started exactly as intended—a performance designed to ward off unwanted company. But something shifted the moment our lips met. Her mouth was soft, warm. Like the lips I’d kissed in my memories. The ones that split in laughter at our inside jokes or flattened into a thin line when she was puzzled.
But then her lips parted, inviting me in.
