Page 4 of Code Name: Atticus
Her laughter followed me, and I realized that despite all my concerns about this assignment, I was looking forward to tomorrow’s briefing. Not because of the mission parameters or the intelligence theft network we were hunting. Because I was finally going to see if Brenna Austen was as formidable a partner as she was a distraction.
The shower did indeed require an engineering degree, but I eventually decoded the touch screen controls and settled into water hot enough to ease the tension in my shoulders. As steam filled the glass enclosure, I tried to focus onanythingother than the fact that she was thirty feet away. On the bed. Probably looking hot as fuck without even trying.
I’d handled undercover ops before. Maintained alternate identities for months without breaking character. But I’d never had to pretend to be married to someone who’d been starring in my inappropriate thoughts since she walked into our briefing room two weeks ago, looking like she could take on the world and win.
When I emerged twenty minutes later in joggers and a T-shirt, I found her exactly where I’d imagined, with her laptop balanced on her knees. The tank top she’d changed into revealed the elegant line of her collarbones and just enough cleavage to make me wish I’d worn different pants—ones that would conceal rather than emphasize my hardening cock. Her golden hair was tied up in a messy bun with loose strands framing her face, and the reading glasses she wore made her look even more like the sharp-minded woman who’d been questioning me about everything since the day I met her.
“Learn anything interesting?” I asked, settling on the far side of the massive bed with my tablet.
“The intelligence thefts aren’t random.” She turned her screen toward me, showing a timeline with red markers. “They’re targeting specific projects—advanced radar systems, satellite communication protocols, drone navigation software. All systems that would be crucial for defending Taiwan or Ukraine.”
I studied the pattern, noting the escalation over the past six months. “Foreign buyers?”
“Almost certainly. But the payments are being laundered through so many shell companies and offshore accounts that we haven’t been able to trace them back to the source.” She pulled up another document. “That’s where your infiltration comes in. We need to identify the actual buyers, not just the tech executives stealing the data.”
“Any leads on who we’re looking for?”
“Three primary suspects.” She showed me photos taken at social events. “Richard Castellano—no relation to the New York crime family—owns a private equity firm that’s supposedly focused on clean energy investments. Mark Liu runs a startup incubator, but most of his companies seem to exist only on paper. And David Morrison claims to be a venture capitalist, but his money comes from sources we can’t track.”
“All three were at the same event?”
“Along with their wives. And, apparently, they’re very selective about who they talk business with.” She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Which is why we need to be the kind of couple they want to recruit.”
“Rich, connected, and morally flexible?”
“Rich, connected, and useful.” She closed her laptop and set it on the nightstand. “Morally flexible is just the bonus that makes us attractive for their particular business model.”
I watched her settle under the covers, keeping to her side of the bed.
“Atticus?” Her voice was quiet in the darkness after we’d both turned off our reading lights.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For taking this assignment, I mean. I know you didn’t want to.”
I turned toward her, though I could barely make out her silhouette in the dim room. “Why did you request me specifically?”
A long pause. “Because other than my brother, you’re the only person I know who would keep me safe, no matter what.”
BRENNA
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the weight of an arm across my waist.
The second thing that registered was his body’s instinctive response to mine pressed against my bottom.
I lay frozen, hyperaware of every point where Atticus’ body touched mine—the solid warmth of his broad chest pressed against me, the feel of his muscular arms that spoke of serious dedication wrapped around me, and the steady rhythm of his breathing stirring the hair at my nape. During the night, we’d migrated toward each other across the massive bed.
My fingers traced along what felt like a distinctive scar running over his left forearm before I caught myself. Maybe in his sleep, he thought he was with someone else—one of the women who undoubtedly moved through his life.
Luke had made sure I knew about them over the years. The diplomat’s daughter in Prague. The CIA analyst who’d lasted three months. The string of DC socialites who thought they could tame him. Each story delivered with brotherly concern disguised as casual conversation, ensuring I understood exactly what kind of man Atticus was.
The memories stung more than they should have.
I needed to extract myself and regain my equilibrium. This was a federal investigation, not an opportunity to revisit adolescent fantasies.
I tried to slip away without waking him, but the moment I shifted, his arm tightened around me. A low, sleep-rough noise rumbled from his chest—not quite awake, but no longer asleep either. The sound sent heat spiraling through me.
Stop it. He’s asleep. This means nothing.
