Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
I frown at the pictures.
Maybe we wouldn’t have noticed while we were camping and busy as hell under the trees, but we definitely would have out on the water, where there was nothing but wide-open sea and sky and so much silence.
And Destiny, too, in that tight little wet suit.
I finally see Hannah’s point.
Any regular civilian drone would’ve been noticed quickly from its noise alone at an altitude that low—except for our proprietary ultra-silent stealth model. The same drones that are still prototypes and haven’t been released to the open market yet.
Destiny couldn’t have gotten access to the research lab.
Then who the hell did? And how?
The handful of prototypes are all armed with chips that set off security alerts if they’re removed from the lab without an override code from the executive level or a senior researcher.
If Destiny had somehow gotten access, she wouldn’t have known about the tracking chips, I’m sure.
But anyone working in product development...
Fuck.
Maybe Destiny didn’t do it.
Maybe it’s an inside job, but not her.
Again, who?
I collapse in my chair, scrubbing my hands over my face, trying to hold my head together.
There would have to be a massive payoff for anyone on payroll to stick their neck out doing something so heinous.
Vanessa Dumas bribing an insider to keep smearing me is a real possibility—she certainly hates me enough—but she’s already gotten her way by forcing our scandal into the limelight. There isn’t enough worth her resorting to corporate espionage.
I could say the same for Destiny, too.
Like a pin stabbed into a balloon, the pressure blows out of my chest. I breathe past the crushing weight that’s sat there for the past ten minutes, tighter than a boa constrictor.
It wasn’t her.
Dess didn’t fucking orchestrate this.
For now, that’s enough.
The relief melts me alive. Hannah watches me slump in my chair, suddenly rendered boneless.
I don’t understand why it matters so much, yet I can’t deny that I feel a hundred pounds lighter knowing she didn’t betray me.
She never used me.
Hell, she’s as much of a victim as I am.
The anger still blazes inside me, but the sharp sting fades.
I run a hand through my hair.
“It wasn’t Destiny,” I say crisply, letting it sink in further.
“I don’t think so, either, sir,” Hannah agrees.
Goddamn.
I nod sharply. “We need to figure out who. Are we missing a unit?”
“I’m having Carol Garcia check inventory now. She was the last one in the lab during that time, but it was during your excursion.”
I swallow a few more curses, wishing like hell something made sense.
Hannah narrows her eyes, taking in my expression. “Forgive me for saying, Mr. Foster, but you seem relieved.”
“Do I?” I’d hoped to hide that.
“I wouldn’t mention it if you didn’t...”
There’s no point in pretending. Not to my mind reader of an EA, who’s mastered the art of deciphering my every expression.
“Perceptive as always,” I say.
“May I be blunt, sir?”
“Are you ever anything less?”
“...did you sleep with Miss Lancaster?”
Fuck.
There’s no easy answer to that.
Obviously, I want to tell her I didn’t—that I would never, ever dream of doing something so monstrously stupid.
But I did more than dream.
And definitely not just once.
It was the best damn boneheaded move of my life, absolutely ravaging Destiny Lancaster for several days in paradise.
Before I can force anything coherent out of my mouth, there’s a knock at the door.
Hannah doesn’t have time to get up.
Not before Destiny sails in without waiting for an invitation, swinging the door shut behind her.
'A sight for sore eyes' doesn’t do this justice.
Her face is flushed, the color high and bright on her cheekbones, and she can’t meet my gaze.
She looks miserable, though.
Probably worn to the bone from tromping through the office with everyone staring at her on the walk of shame.
Something I’m not used to feeling wells up in my chest behind the usual anger.
Protectiveness.
Her lashes are damp and her eyes are red-rimmed. It looks like she’s been crying.
“Sh-Shepherd.” Her voice cracks. “I... I know how it looks, but I swear I... I didn’t—”
“I know,” I growl.
“Huh?” She looks up. “You do?”
She immediately looks a tad less wretched.
It’s clear she’s been beating herself up over how I’ll react.
And hell if she wasn’t right five minutes ago—if Hannah hadn’t intervened, I would have been the human volcano she’s imagining.
I would have forced her to pack up her shit and leave, effective immediately.
Now, the very thought physically hurts.
“I do,” I say, and I can’t help myself.
Everyone standing here already knows, so fuck it.
I walk around the desk and pull her against me.
Comforting isn’t something I have much practice with, but for her, it comes too naturally.
She turns her face into my chest and takes a deep, shaking breath.
Then another.
Slowly, she inhales me, and I let her take whatever she needs.
I hold her tighter, combing a hand gently through her hair, letting my fingers smooth the flyaway gold strands of her stress back into place.