Page 26 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

Her hair’s nearly dry now, the curls wilder than I've seen them before, but her white T-shirt is still way too fucking easy to see through. The sight of her dark nipples shadowing the fabric steals all my attention as she walks my way, hips swinging just enough to make her tits gently sway. It's not until she drops a plate onto the desk in front of me that I notice she’s carrying something in her hands.

"I figured I'd feed you since you’re going to be here a while." She gives me a wide smile that tells me she already knows my team’s been trying to take her out.

My eyes drop to the plate in front of me and my stomach growls again. Fucking thing has gotten spoiled over the years and it shows. I should have taken time each month to push myself. To make sure I could still do what needed to be done. I should've fasted. Gone without sleep. Kept myself ready for whatever came my way.

Instead, I'm sitting here heavily considering eating the sandwich Julieanne cut in half like she’s feeding a child.

"I didn't poison it or anything if that's what you're worried about." She reaches out and snags half, bringing it to her mouth before I can stop her, to take a big bite. She lifts her brows as she chews. "See?" She shoves the bitten half of the sandwich back my way, holding it between us. "Take it. I heard your stomach growl. You need to eat."

Everything this woman does pisses me off, and this is no exception. It's not her actions that are the problem, but my own reactions. I've spent over forty years giving zero shits about anyone else. I don't have friends. I don't have family. Because I don't need anyone.

And in all that time, no one has tested the barriers Ihave in place. Not a single fucking person. No one but the woman slowly shoving a sandwich closer and closer to my face.

"Open wide. Here comes the airplane." Julieanne smirks, clearly amused by treating me like a toddler.

I grab her wrist, holding it tight, stopping her from pressing the fucking sandwich right to my face. "I'm not a fucking child."

The expression on her face changes in an instant, going from something teasing and amused, to heated and flushed in the span of a second. "I definitely noticed that, Vincent." She leans forward, resting her free hand against the desk, her dark eyes aligning with mine. "But I’m also starting to think you’re kind of a brat."

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Did this woman seriously just fucking call me a brat?

Julieanne takes full advantage of my shock and shoves the sandwich between my now parted lips. "Don't look so offended." She lowers her voice, taking it down to a smooth, sexy tone that shoots straight to my dick. "It can be our little secret."

She releases the sandwich, forcing me to grab it unless I want yet another meal to fall in my lap. "I'll let you get back to it." She turns and walks most of the way out of the room, pausing at the open door to peek back my way. "Let me know if you need anything else."

My phone rings as she walks away and I tear off the chunk of sandwich she shoved into my mouth before dropping the rest onto the plate. I answer Elias's call, hopeful he's got good news for me. "Yes?"

"Hey, Vincent. It’s Elias."

I pinch the bridge of my nose,fighting to keep from unleashing all my frustration on him. "Iknow. Any success?"

"Technically, no, but we came up with something that we think might help us. If she's tried to get into anyone else's systems, we might be able to backtrack and find a way into hers.”

I snort. “What the fuck do you mean tried?” I pick up the sandwich and take another bite without realizing it, but once it’s in my mouth I figure the harm’s already done, so I chew. “You and I both know if she tried, she got in.” I drop my head back against the raised rest of Julieanne’s office chair. “Fuck.” I shove up from the seat, unable to stay still, grabbing the plate as I go. “I’ll call you back.”

I take the stairs to the main floor, not bothering to skip the squeaky step since my presence isn’t a secret, and find Julieanne in the kitchen. I drop the plate onto the same peninsula where I first left my card, but instead of asking about her hacking habits, I frown at what’s in her hands. “What in the hell are you making now?”

"You had me so stressed-out earlier today I had to bake a batch of cookies. And now they're just sitting there, so I figured I would smash some ice cream between a few and make cookie sandwiches with them." She finishes slathering a healthy scoop of vanilla ice cream onto the cookie in her hand before stacking on a second. Once it's assembled, she holds it my way. "Want one?"

I stare at it. Glaring, because I do fucking want it. I want it because it looks fucking amazing. But I also want it because she made it, and, regardless of her explanation, I want to believe she made it for me.

A slow smile pulls across her beautiful face and she wiggles the treat. "Come on. You know you want it." Shemoves closer, just like she did with the sandwich. "My sons tell me I make the best chocolate chip cookies."

I know she's trying to tempt me, but she doesn't understand what she's doing. How something that seems so small could fuck me up so much.

I know everything Julieanne has done—I know everything about her. I know she taught computer classes at the high-school level for a handful of years before she got married and became a stay-at-home mother. I know her ex-husband looks like a complete piece of shit with an inflated ego and a little dick. I also know her sons were her whole world when they were little. Even now, the only photos she shares on social media are pictures of when they come to visit during breaks.

And that fucking pisses me off too. The shit she's doing is dangerous, and she seems fucking oblivious to it. Putting her sons’ faces right next to hers for anyone to see.

And I know she would be devastated if anything happened to them. I know how hard it is to come back from a loss like that and, honestly, I’m not sure she could do it. One more reason I need to shut this down.

Julieanne rolls her eyes to the ceiling, letting out a dramatic sigh. "It's just fucking cookies and ice cream." She drops it onto the plate I brought downstairs. "They've never hurt anybody." She grabs another cookie and goes to work spreading ice cream on it, her lips twitching at the corners. "Any luck up there?" There's an odd pitch to her voice that tells me she already knows the answer.

"You're going to make a mistake at some point, Angel Face." I grab the cookie, giving in because I need something to cool the agitation tempting me to grab her. To throw her in my car and haul her back to Alaska where Ican lock her up so she doesn't keep putting herself, and subsequently her sons, in danger. "You've probably already made a mistake." I take a bite of the sandwich and, fuck it all, she's right. She does make the best goddamned chocolate chip cookies I've ever had.

That's what makes her such a nightmare. She's not just sweet and soft. She's not only a good mom who bakes her kids chocolate chip cookies. She isn’t even just one of the most skilled hackers I've ever seen. She's also a huge pain in my ass, and I think that's the icing on my fucked-up fantasy cake.

"I need to know who else's systems you've gone into."

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