Page 62 of Fate Awakened

Her snark makes me want to banter with her, but the cold look in her ocean-blue eyes has me holding my tongue.

“I just want to help,” I say, removing all the bravado from my voice.

“Getting Elle back safely is the only thing that matters. I don’t even know why I was trying to lighten the mood. I’m sorry. How can I help?” I ask, pleading with her to let me do something so my mind doesn’t spiral down a path of statistics on getting hostages back after twenty-four hours has passed, less than forty percent.

She sighs, dragging out the sound, but before she can answer, the van stops. I turn my attention to the front as the driver, Jay, exits, leaving the two of us alone.

“Did Jay explain your job here today?” she asks me, her eyes losing a bit of their icy edge.

“Perimeter surveillance. Nothing goes in without me alerting you,” I repeat the orders given to me by Jay, our driver. Thinking about it, he’s about the only person who has been friendly this entire time. Cain has reasons for his dislike seeing as I did have his stolen software. I just don’t understand why Presley seems so set on hating me.

“Good. Don’t move the cameras unless you see movement. They’re set for full coverage with no gaps. Anytime you move one, we have an area we can’t see; an area we can’t protect,” she informs me, dropping her chin and sliding her eyes to the joystick to highlight her point.

Moving the joystick causes holes in coverage. People could be hurt.

“Got it. Won’t happen again,” I say, understanding her seriousness.

“Not such a slow learner after all,” she says almost under her breath, but she gives me a small reluctant smile. It makes her eyes dance as if she’s saying more in her head, but it makes me feel a bit better. At least I know there’s a sense of humor buried deep, deep down in there somewhere.

“I’ve set you up on this hardware over here,” she says, pointing to the screens closest to the passenger front seat. “Toggle frames with the number keypad. Headphones are to the right.” she finishes and returns to her radio.

“In position,” it blares before she plugs her bright pink cat-eared headphones into the port.

“Copy. When the black team is in position, let me know,” she sends as I shift around to try and find a way to sit on the opposite side of the van. Everybody wants to be tall until you’re sardined in a space with nowhere to stash your limbs.

After several attempts at sitting positions, I end up with my legs crossed under the makeshift shelf. I may not be able to get up or out of this position, but it works for now.

Jay hasn’t returned to the van, and I wonder what his job is as this trade happens.

“Black team is the ones with the big dogs, right?” I ask, startling Presley and forcing her attention back to me.

“Jay said they were the K9 team, right? The ones that went in first to search the area?” I continue because her face looks puzzled.

“Oh, yeah. K9 unit. Yep,” she says before ignoring me again.

This girl is frustrating. She seems hell-bent on ignoring, belittling, or snapping at me. She has made zero attempts at being cordial or trying to get to know me. She may be the most combative female I have ever encountered. She certainly doesn’t want me here.

Why does it bother me?

The more she tries to pretend I don’t exist, the more some irrational part of my brain wants to poke at her hardened exterior. The fact that she wants nothing to do with me makes me want her attention more.

Get it together. We’re literally here to save Elle, and I’m worrying about what the snarky redhead thinks of me.

I return my focus to the screens in front of me, scanning through twelve feeds spread over the two monitors in my station. The infrared, combined with the resolution of the cameras, allow me to see clearly despite it being dark outside. That, plus the quality of the equipment in this van, tells me everything I need to know about this group's financial status.

They have money to burn.

Movement on feed seven pulls my attention, and I see two large SUV-style vehicles enter into the view. They turn into the small parking lot and stop.

“Hey, we have movement over here,” I shout, signaling to Presley.

“Which camera?” she asks, flipping between several monitors in her area.

“Seven,” I answer, wanting to zoom in on the angle to get a better look, but I’m too worried I’ll miss something.

“Look alive, boys. They’re here. Two vehicles. Standby for the body counts,” she finishes sounding official, and I stare at her a moment, trying to figure out how old she is. Younger than me, for sure, but you wouldn’t know it by her presence in this space. Her poise under pressure is remarkable, and yet, her pale, freckled skin and bright eyes give her a more youthful appearance.

Well, that and the hot pink cat ears. Meow.

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