Riding The Edge - Elise Faber Page 0,22

in an elevator with a man who’d hurt me in the past.

Because the one who’d held and kissed me wouldn’t.

Because I could protect myself.

That was what I needed to remember. The kisses and good feelings were just distractions. I needed to focus on the mission, on the job, on not ever being vulnerable again.

“I’m fine,” I said and pushed against his chest. For a moment, it didn’t seem like he would let me go. Then the elevator doors dinged, and he dropped his arms.

I ignored the slight blip of emptiness that came from stepping away from him, from losing the warmth of his body.

That kiss had been—

The doors started to close, and I slammed out a hand, holding them open.

Enough.

We were on a job, and I was daydreaming about a pair of lips.

I needed to get my shit together.

Otherwise, there was a strong possibility we were going to end up dead.

20:59hrs local time

I had my big girl clothes on.

Which was to say I had significantly more skin covered.

After we’d returned to one of the team’s rooms, I’d manned the cameras and microphones for a bit while Ryker and Laila had played beach couple and Olive had provided backup. But the hours hadn’t brought any further clarity, not that any of the team had necessarily expected them to. Not during the day, anyway. If something was going to happen, as we all very much suspected it would, it wouldn’t be on the crowded beach or in the well-lit lobby. It would be at night.

In the service corridors or the underbelly of the hotel.

In the dark corners.

The parking lot.

The stairwells.

Which was why we had eyes on all of those, as well as the hallways and public areas. We’d drawn the line at putting cameras in rooms because we wanted to save the world, not spy on innocent people going about their days.

Of course, it would have been easier if we didn’t have things like a moral compass. We could put cameras in every room, spy on each and every conversation.

Figure out exactly how deeply the two criminal families were intertwined.

All we would need to do is flip on a camera and hit record.

As it was, we’d already gone the slightly illegal route—but technically, was it illegal? We weren’t bound by the typical regulations and standards most agencies had to abide by. Regardless of legality, we’d hacked into the hotel’s registration system and isolated the suites that the Toscalo and Mikhailova groups were staying in. Which meant we now had access to the security feeds surrounding the rooms in addition to those from the cameras we’d planted.

The bad guys were covered.

Now, we just had to wait.

The trouble with waiting, however, was that it gave a woman too much time to think.

And unfortunately, what I was thinking at that moment was the fact that Dan was on the other side of a door and naked. He was showering, so it wasn’t exactly like he was parading around, but I had a really good memory.

I’d touched that skin. Kissed every inch. Remembered everything in crystal clear detail.

Just to prove how sick my brain was, it had cataloged every inch of him. From the scar below his ribs to the shadowed squares that ridged his abdomen to the sharp Vs on his pelvis that disappeared into the waistband of his pants.

I’d carefully itemized it all.

And sometimes, late at night, when it was quiet and the weight of my childhood didn’t seem so heavy, I wondered what it might be like.

To be with Dan.

The shower turned off, and I jumped, forcing my focus back to the monitors, but I found that the mirror was inconveniently—or conveniently, depending on one’s point of view—positioned to showcase the door. Which was opening.

Which . . . showed Dan in nothing more than a towel.

Steam billowed out behind him like he was the hero of some Hollywood movie.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Forgot my bag.”

A message appeared on my computer screen, Laila relieving me from my watch and telling me to get some rest, but to keep my phone on and be ready to go if the shipment happened.

We weren’t sure how the spreadsheet counted time—the shipment was technically scheduled for tomorrow, but was that midnight tomorrow? As in three hours’ time? Or late tomorrow evening, almost twenty-four hours from now? Since we weren’t one hundred percent certain, we would cover all the bases.

“What did Laila say?” Dan asked.

I’d felt him come up behind me where I sat, but nothing could prepare me for