Page 151 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"This is routine work." Kade continues. "Basic surveillance, clean elimination. If you can't handle Williams without complications, then you've proven my point about being compromised."
The folder sits between us like evidence of my failure. The pink hair tie around my wrist feels like a brand against my skin.
"And if I complete it flawlessly?"
"Then we'll reconsider the tactical advantages of keeping Ms. Reyes close." Kade's tone carries no promises, only conditional possibility.
I grab the Williams folder, manila paper rough against my fingers. "Understood."
"Good. Report back when it's done."
I head toward the door, tactical gear already catalogued in my mind. Weapons check, surveillance equipment, extraction routes. The familiar rhythm of mission planning feels like muscle memory engaging.
"Cross." Kade's voice stops me at the threshold. "Don't prove me right about emotional compromise."
The door closes behind me with a sound like gunshot.
Time to prove that loving Vanessa doesn't make me weak. It makes me lethal.
The elevator ride to sub-level 2 feels like descending into combat zone.
The maintenance bay stretches before me in concrete and steel. Familiar territory where variables behave according to physics instead of emotion. Where calculations matter more than feelings.
The sound of impact tools against metal draws me toward the far end. Jax's solar red Mercedes sits with its hood raised, diagnostic equipment scattered around the workspace in patterns that would drive me insane if I had to work in them.
"Timing belt's still off by three degrees." His voice calls from beneath the engine bay, muffled by metal and momentum. "Hand me that torque wrench."
I grab the tool from his collection, noting how everything sits within easy reach despite the apparent chaos. Organization by frequency of use rather than size or type.
"Here." I hand him the wrench. "Getting ready for that charity race?"
Jax rolls out on the creeper, dark blond hair disheveled, grease streaking his forearms like war paint. Those sharp blue-green eyes lock onto my face, and his expression shifts.
"You look like someone just ripped your heart out through your chest. Rough meeting?"
The question hits harder than it should. I can track wind patterns to three decimal places, but I can't remember the last time unconsciousness came without calculation.
"I'm fine."
"Right." Jax slides back under the car, metal clanging like artillery fire. "And I'm Mother Teresa. What's Kade got you doing?"
"Standard contract work. Williams elimination."
"Ah." The wrench stops moving. "So he's testing whether you can still kill people without letting feelings get in the way."
Heat floods my neck. "Something like that."
Jax rolls out again, sitting up on the creeper with grease-stained hands folded over his knees. "You know what your real problem is?"
"Enlighten me."
"You let her walk out of there thinking you agreed with Kade's bullshit assessment." His voice carries that casual delivery that makes the truth hit harder. "She's probably sitting in her loft right now, wondering what she did wrong. Why she wasn't worth defending."
The words slam into my chest like body shots. Vanessa, surrounded by her computers, brilliant mind spinning through possibilities, convinced she's the variable that doesn't compute. Those dark eyes wide with confusion and hurt.
My stomach drops into free fall.
"She watched you sit there silent while Kade called her a liability. What conclusion do you think that brilliant brain of hers reached?"
