Page 61 of The Honeymoon Hack
I put the tweezers down and swiveled my chair toward her. “They flaggedRonniefor spending too long in one of the server rooms with me the day we arrived, so hopefully your increased security level will avoid their prying eyes.”
“You need to find a way to cut the cameras when we figure out where Meridian is.”
“Then there’s the matter of customer support staff typically having network techs with them when they do local updates,” I said. “I’m not sure if it’s an official rule or just customary.”
“Too many eyes, yet again.” She sighed, redirecting to her desk. She grabbed her phone, woke it, and slid it across my desk. “And now we have this to worry about, on top of everything else.”
I took the phone. The screen displayed spaghetti tracking models, colorful lines showing the most likely paths, all converging through the Bahamas.
“Lorenzo’s strengthened to Category 3. Most models now predict it will hit the Bahamas within the next couple of days, and it’s gaining speed. The only good news is that TropicalDepression Sixteen’s petering out, so we won’t have to deal with another hurricane.”
I studied the projections, unease settling in my stomach. The forecast cone centered almost directly over Grand Bahama, with Blue Haven Cay well within its path. “We’re safe down here.”
“What if Scarlett can’t make it?” Brie’s arms flew out to her sides, her frustration hitting its peak. “All this planning for nothing.”
“Scarlettwillmake it.” I stood, attempting to lower her energy level by reducing the space available for her to spiral. “When has your sister ever failed to complete a mission?”
Brie’s characteristic snort-laugh escaped. “Fair point.”
The sound lightened something in my chest. This was still us—still Brie and Will—despite everything unresolved between us. On a normal day, I would have walked over to her, pressed her arms down, and looked her square in the eyes.
If I tried that today, she’d likely tear out of the room.
Instead, I breathed slowly, signaling she should do the same. “Let’s assume Scarlett’s successful. Once she’s done, you’ll have white-level access, which will let you open any server rack.”
“But I’d still need a reason to be inside the server rooms.” She eyed up her pacing path, but with me in the way, she placed her hands on her hips. “And I’d probably need a tech escort, regardless of my access level.”
I frowned. We didn’t have three months to work here, just so people would stop watching us as though we were about to walk off with all the knowledge of the world. “Claire has white-level access. Doessheneed a tech with her?”
“That’s a good question.” Brie’s shoulders dropped from where they’d been creeping up toward her ears. “When she left The Bridge earlier today, it was because a tech needed her help. Maybe at white level, the requests go from your team to mine,rather than the other way around? If that’s true, so long as I’m a white-level blip on a screen, no one would stop me.”
There she was. The problem-solver who attacked issues head-on, who worked endless hours dismantling challenges.
“I’ll ask Ronnie about the protocols for software staff,” I said. “See if you’re right about the escort rule.”
“Be casual. Don’t raise?—”
“It won’t raise any suspicion. I’ve been asking him so many questions, one more shouldn’t be an issue.”
Brie nodded, then deliberately sat at her desk, pulling up the hurricane tracking on her laptop, zooming in on the latest data. “At this rate, we might be looking at landfall within forty-eight hours.”
“Stop brooding.” I nudged her shoulder, and she didn’t recoil, which was progress. “The facility is built to handle direct hits from hurricanes. Ronnie said he was here when Dorian hit, and nothing changed.”
“Or it could mean Scarlett’s tour gets canceled and we lose our best shot at the server.”
Chapter 24
Brie
Early Saturday morning,I sat at my laptop, typing furiously into a document on my secret partition. The notes about what I’d found yesterday weren’t critical, but if I typed enough of them, maybe I’d be ready for today.
The bathroom door opened, and steam billowed out.
I turned away from my laptop and called to Will, “She’s coming at four, right?”
“Yes, four.” Will wandered out, with a towel wrapped precariously around his hips.
Fresh from the shower, he’d slicked his hair back—the waves more pronounced while it was wet. Water dripped from his hair and traced lazy paths down the planes of his chest, catching in the grooves between his abs. The defined V-cut of his lower abdomen and the trail of dark hair dragged my eyes downward before I caught myself.
