Page 57 of The Honeymoon Hack
Ken was right when he’d teased yesterday about how boring it would be.
Claire had left me here three hours ago. While the videos themselves were mind-numbing, the process left my brain available to work on the problem: How to find Fenix. Hacking the HSMs for higher access was a no-go. The more I’d thought about it, the riskier it sounded. If that was Claire’s first play when she arrived and she was hunting for traitors—whether to Mnemis, the US government, or some other organization—she’d be watching for that.
“How are you finding the training materials?” Claire approached my desk, a tablet tucked under her arm.
I paused the video and pulled my headset down to my neck. It only covered one ear anyway, but it was the polite thing to do.“Informative. However, this one shows an older version of the system. Version 4.2.8, but we’re running 5.1.3.”
“Training always lags behind updates.” Claire glanced at the paused video and sighed. “I’ve asked to have them updated, but management prioritizes system stability over documentation.”
“Makes sense.” I kept my tone light, interested but nottoointerested. Noticing a version mismatch showed I was paying attention. “Can I see the current interface? Maybe shadow someone?”
“All new employees start with the training modules.” She shrugged, as though saying she’d let me if she could. “You’ll need to be patient. Complete the fundamentals first. After that, we move you forward.”
“Right, of course.”
Claire’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen, then frowned slightly. “Sorry, Brie, but one of the hardware techs needs me in the server rooms.”
“Can I go with you?”
She chuckled and tapped my screen. “You need to finish the basic training videos first.”
“Will do.”
She navigated back to her desk, threw a crossbody bag over her shoulder, and headed for the exit.
I’d never been able to read people like my brother and sister could. What would their impression of Claire be? Sheseemednice. A bit competitive at the racing game yesterday, but so was I. She didn’tseemto be watching me, or even grilling me on security.
But shehadgrilled Will.
Maybe I wasn’t on her radar yet.
I put my headset back on and resumed the video. The woman on my screen explained priority levels—Critical, High, Medium, Low. The same four categories that existed in literallyevery tracking program I’d ever seen. There wasn’t even a speed selection to hurry it up.
At home, I had full rein of the system. I’d written most of the software Reynolds ran on from the ground up, aided by a few key members of my team whose application-building skills were on par with their hacking skills.
Here, I was stuck watching someone explain what a drop-down menu was.
My fingers drummed against the desk. My father had been in prison for over twenty years. A few hours’ delay didn’t mean anything to him, but it was pissing me off. We’d only found out about his being framed three months ago, when one of Fenix’s captains spilled the truth to Emmett’s girlfriend.
If Mum had been honest with us years ago, we could have helped earlier.
I wanted to move now. Wanted todosomething. As the quiet youngest sibling, the woman sitting behind the computer screen and running support for the team, I hadn’t expected an opportunity to fix this and bring him home. I’d expected Scarlett to sneak into some building behind one of her disguises and walk out with what we needed. Or for Emmett to buy courtside tickets next to someone with the right intel and sweet-talk them out of it.
But none of that happened. And instead, I was watching training videos.
I doodled on the notepad next to me, drawing a server, a key, and intersecting lines, then coloring in the shapes. What if I had to keep my head down for months before I got my yellow access? What if it took that long before I could search for the data I needed?
Could Will and I keep this fake marriage going that long? How many more kisses on the beach would that require? Heat flared between my thighs at the thought. A multi-monthundercover op, holding hands, spending every spare moment together? Sleeping next to each other?
I shifted in my chair, chasing a little friction.
Stop that, Brie.
It wasn’t fair. The kiss had felt so good. So right.
But it was so?—
“How’s it going?”
