have much—”
“Shit,” I hissed. “Shit, fuck, shit.”
Sam whirled around—expecting an attacker, I’m sure. But all I could do was grab his arm and point to the red blinking lights flaring to life on the ceiling. Blink blink blink. Two small, white security cameras were pointed directly at our faces.
“The security alarm,” I said. “Byrne, we tripped the—”
But I didn’t need to say more.
Because those red lights exploded into a wailing siren.
30
Freya
The security alarm at Philosopher’s Hall was the loudest thing I’d ever heard. It was a screaming banshee of sound, and all Sam and I could do was gape at each other as those red lights blinked faster and faster.
That dog was barking again—more dogs, a pack of fucking dogs, all reacting to the same high-pitched frequency. Quickly, Sam slid the window shut and dragged me to the ground.
“Remember that time you said the worst thing that could happen was we’d go to jail?” Sam hissed. “Looks like your dream’s about to come true.”
“Trying to see me in an orange jumpsuit, eh?” I shot back, army-crawling across the floor until I reached a black box with white lettering. Vesper Systems. I grabbed my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Activating my nerd girl powers,” I said. I crawled back to him, both of us sitting against the wall.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Slip out that same window and run. There’s time. Maybe the security cameras didn’t catch our faces.”
I held up a finger. Searched for Vesper Systems customer service line. Dialed it.
“We need to go,” he urged.
Another sound now—farther in the distance.
Police sirens.
“Thank you for calling Vesper. Is this regarding a problem with your security system?” A woman’s chipper voice came over the phone. I pinched a business card between my fingers. Shannon James, Director of Operations. I’d grabbed it earlier, before we’d gone out that window the first time.
“Hi, yes, this is Shannon James.” I injected as much authority into my voice as I could manage. “I needed to get back into Philosopher’s Hall to grab some files and tripped the alarm. It’s blaring so loudly I can’t hear myself think, let alone remember what our alarm code is.”
I army-crawled back to that box. Felt along the edge until my fingernail caught the end of a piece of plastic. Flipped it open to reveal a keypad. I pressed the phone hard to my ear.
“Of course, happy to help, Ms. James.” There was a familiar click of nails on a keyboard. “I see you are the primary account holder for Philosopher’s Hall. We can supply the code, but we’ll need your four-digit password to authorize.”
Dammit.
Of course, they did. The police sirens wailed closer, and I swore I saw flashing lights reflected on the far wall. Sam was watching me intently—he was either impressed or pissed as fuck. Or both.
“Yes, of course,” I said, stalling. Picked up the brochure from the table. Philosopher’s Hall was constructed in 1743, the first of its kind in Philadelphia… “Our password to authorize is 1-7-4-3.”
“Evandale,” Sam whispered. He was less than a foot away from me. I slapped a hand over his mouth. Shook my head. The siren felt like a hammer between my temples.
“Ma’am?” The woman said impatiently.
“Um, what?” I strained to hear her.
“Ma’am, I said your passcode is 1-7-9-7.” I slid quickly across the floor and typed 1797.
It stopped.
The alarm fucking stopped. It left a tangible hush in its wake, like stepping into a quiet forest after a busy day in the city. Sam and I stared at each other with gaping mouths.
“Ma’am? Hello?”
“Oh, yes…um, it worked, thank you,” I said.
“While I have you, do you still want the security cameras disabled for the weekend? I can reactivate them if needed.”
Relief collapsed me against the wall. My guess was that Ward had put that into action—no camera footage, no tape, no record of the thieves who’d just dined here.
“Nope, keep the cameras off as discussed,” I said firmly. “And thank you.” I ended the call.
“You did it,” Sam said hoarsely.
“I did do it,” I said. That had felt good. Really good. I beamed at up at my nemesis. “Not too shabby, eh?”
He took one giant step and brought our lips together. It was a rough and dirty kiss, a hard kiss. It felt way more than good.
It was hot as hell. The demanding feel of his hands in my hair, holding me still, had me jelly-kneed in an instant. I liked this feeling of being taken by Sam Byrne. Actually more than