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“We got a dozen families in the second tier, but only five fit the profile of having enough to lose to take the risk of playing the Alliance the way they are.”
He frowns at me. “You mean enough to gain.”
“Negative.” I turn and indicate a white board, where I’ve categorized the second-tier families into two groups of likely and unlikely candidates. “On the surface, working as a mole is easy. Everyone wants money, and the Alliance’s security isn’t great. But if someone wants something, they’d just steal it, right? Especially if they’ve got nothing to lose. There’s no way they’re moving up in the world, but given the intel that’s being stolen, they’d only get blackballed, not blown up. And for some families on this list, it’d actually add to their cred to be kicked out of the Alliance, not take away from it.”
Quinn twists his lips. “You flatter me.”
“Eh. The truth hurts.” I offer him a wink. “But what we’re looking at is someone who doesn’t want to be caught—and that can only be because he wants a seat at the high table. He’s stealing intel in a very sneaky manner, and he’s confident enough to keep doing it, even after the first mole was discovered. He’s smart, confident and experienced. He’s done this before, I guarantee it. Which begs the question, why?”
“I’d rather jump right to the who.”
“Then you need to slow down.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
“I…” I blow out another breath, mentally replaying the previous evening’s highlight reel for a precious moment before getting back on track. “Hear me out. I’m willing to bet whoever’s paying the bills of this mole isn’t trying to take down the Alliance, at least not outright. Even the intel leaked by Grimm’s kid wasn’t the most sensitive stuff. It was just the easiest to get to by someone on the inside.”
“Hmm.” Quinn reviews the files, then glances at the list of families on the board. “One of the names up there is yours.”
I grimace. “Yup.”
“But you would’ve never approached the Alliance for a seat at the table if you were already deep into our back end.”
His words make me blush, even if he doesn’t mean them the way I think he does, because all I can think of now is Quinn driving deep into my—
Focus!“I wouldn’t have approached you, no. If my game is information, I’d benefit from a little distance, versus having you right on top of me.” That…didn’t come out right, but I push on anyway. “Someone in my family, though, who’s not so intimately entangled, that’s another story. Until I follow the data, I can’t rule it out.”
“So tell me, do we have eyes on us right now?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not a fan of tracking myself.”
“But you can do it,” he challenges.
“Of course I can do it.”
“Then turn them on. Let me see you on camera.”
A rush of heat washes over me, chased by a shivery chill. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, every one of these cameras. Turn them on you. I want you—us—on all the screens except one.” He points to another monitor, the one where I showed him his readout. “That one I want to show our data.”
“I…”
“You do have a baseline for yourself, right, as compared to what’s happening right now? Call that up for both of us, and stick it there. Right now.”
Stick it there.
Biting my lip, I move over to the keyboard, then do as Quinn instructs. A moment later, the screen splits between his baseline data and my own, compared to where we are right now. I frown, taking in several long, deep breaths to drop my heart rate down to a reasonable range. Quinn, I notice, isn’t even jacked.
“Good,” he says. “Now let me see how good this thing is.” He steps up behind me, and lifts my long hair off my neck. I feel him pressed up against my backside, the cool touch of his lips against the base my neck. A second later, my figure on the monitor turns a light orange. “Careful, now, Jo,” he murmurs. “And check screen 7.”
My glance shifts to screen 7—a wide-angle view from the back of the command station—and both feel and watch Quinn as he drops his hand to my backside, pulling up my skirt until it exposes the pale curve of my ass. I’m wearing thong underwear, and he slides his finger beneath the soft lace, tugging it down. Watching him do it on the screen as I feel the scrape of his rough hands over my skin makes me whimper, and he chuckles.
“Uh oh,” he murmurs. “Looks like your readouts have shifted over to the red. Let’s see what we can do to cool you down.”
