Page 6 of Code Name: Atticus
“Like the dead.” His smile was easy, but controlled. “You?”
“Same.” I settled on one of the barstools. “We should discuss the parameters before the briefing. The legal framework for this case will be complex.”
“Multi-jurisdictional prosecution with international cryptocurrency flows,” he said, already ahead of me. “I’ve been thinking about the preservation protocols we’ll need. The target network is sophisticated—they’re using advanced persistent threat techniques and probably have contingency plans for data destruction.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” I found myself matching his analytical tone. “What’s your read on RICO applications for this type of enterprise?”
“Viable if we can prove they’re running a continuing criminal operation. The money laundering through cryptocurrency should help us there, assuming we can trace where the money goes before they hide it.” He sipped his coffee, then turned to look out at the view. “Alice has tools that can follow digital transactions through most systems designed to obscure them, and I’ve got contacts at Treasury who specialize in tracking crypto money.” His brow was furrowed when he focused his gaze on me again. “The real challenge will be timing the takedown. These networks can disappear across a dozen countries in minutes if they realize we’re watching.”
“That’s where having a lawyer leading the investigation becomes critical,” I said. “I’ll need to make decisions about seizing evidence and arresting suspects in the moment, often without clear legal precedent to guide me.”
“And I’ll need to coordinate simultaneous operations across multiple targets without tipping our hand too early.” He studied me. “Think you can handle making those decisions under pressure? Once we move, there’s no going back.”
As the question settled between us, I wondered if it was loaded with more than work implications. “Yes,” I said quietly. “I do. What about you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Tell me about your team,” I said, trying to refocus. “This is different from my previous investigations—they’ll be embedded with me instead of me coordinating from Washington.”
“They’re good people. Alice can hack into anything, Admiral has excellent strategic experience, and Kodiak…” He paused. “Kodiak will spend most of his time making comments about how we’re not fooling anyone.”
“About what?”
The look he gave me was unreadable. “About how unconvincing we are as newlyweds.”
Heat flooded my cheeks again. “Right. We should work on that.”
“We should.”
I was at a loss for words as we stared at each other across the kitchen island. I’d spent years navigating complex situations and multi-agency turf wars. I could handle working with one man, even if that man happened to be one of my brother’s best friends.
Even if that man made me question every instinct I’d developed over the past decade.
“Brenna.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “About last night. When you said I was the only person besides Luke you’d trust to keep you safe…”
“Yes?”
“Why me? I know we have history, but it’s not like we were close growing up.”
I set down my tea, buying myself time. This was the question I’d been dreading and expecting in equal measure. The one that would require me to admit things I wasn’t sure I was ready to say out loud. The one that might reveal my motivations for requesting him weren’t entirely work-related.
“Because you’ve never treated me like I was fragile,” I finally said. “Even when we were kids. Luke always felt like he had to protect me from everything—including his friends. But you never acted like I needed protecting from you.”
His expression shifted, but it still gave nothing away.
“And because,” I continued, hearing how shaky my voice sounded but knowing I had to get it out, “when I made a complete fool of myself, you were kind about it. You could have laughed. Could have told Luke. Could have made me feel like an idiot. But you didn’t.”
“Brenna—”
“I threw myself at you,” I said, the words coming out in a rush. It happened over Christmas break during Atticus’ and Luke’s senior year. I was home from college, convinced I was so mature and sophisticated. I cornered him on the back porch and basically propositioned him.
The memory still burned, but differently now. Less with shame and more with rueful embarrassment.
“You turned me down as gently as anyone possibly could. You made it clear it wasn’t going to happen without making me feel like there was something wrong with me. And then you acted like it never happened.” I met his eyes. “That’s why I trustyou. Because you knew I was vulnerable and you protected me from my own bad judgment. Even when it probably would have been easier to take what I was offering.”
As the silence stretched between us, I prayed he’d say something. Anything.
“You were nineteen, and I was twenty-one. There wasn’t another choice.”
