Page 52 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
The shared look between Kade and Alina doesn't escape me. It's the universal "we need to talk about this later" glance.
Asher's thumb traces a small circle on my knee. It's distracting in the most confusing way. I should be focused solely on the investigation, but each tiny shift of his fingers registers in my awareness, like my skin's somehow recording his every touch.
Alina leans forward, her expression intensifying. "Vertex Models? We found references to modeling contracts in some of Steele's files, but nothing concrete linking them to Paradise Elite."
"Vertex operates out of Sacramento." I pull up a spreadsheet filled with transaction histories. My leg bounces faster as excitement builds. "I've been tracking them for months. Their business looks legit on paper, but the timing of wire transfers exactly matches when certain girls stop posting on social media."
The connection feels electric, like puzzle pieces snapping together in my brain. My fingers fly across Asher's keyboard, pulling up window after window of evidence.
"Jenny sent me encrypted financial data before she died," I explain, hands gesturing as I speak. "I was tracking everything through a backdoor program on her system."
Asher stiffens slightly beside me, his posture shifting. Maybe he doesn't appreciate my casual admission of illegal hacking, but I continue anyway.
"Three shell companies link Paradise Elite to Vertex Models. The money flows both ways. Vertex pays Paradise when they 'refer' a model, and Paradise pays Vertex when they need new girls who look high end."
Kade leans forward, his massive shoulders filling the frame as his expression turns grave. "This matches what Steele hinted at before his death. Paradise Elite was just one branch of a larger operation."
My leg stops bouncing as my attention snaps fully to Kade. "Steele? Who was Steele exactly?"
"Markus Steele," Alina explains, her voice steady. "He was involved with Paradise Elite, among other things. We managed to rescue twelve children from one of their safe houses during that operation."
Twelve children. Real people. Not just data points on my screens.My hand instinctively reaches for something to anchor me, finding Asher's knee. I grip it tightly, nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his jeans.
"You found survivors?" My voice cracks, emotions crashing through my carefully constructed analytical walls. Jenny wasn't investigating some abstract crime. These were real women, real people with real lives, stolen and commodified like products.
Asher's large hand covers mine where it's clutching his leg. He doesn't pull my fingers away, just rests his palm over them, absorbing the pressure of my grip. The unexpected gentleness from this lethal man makes my throat tighten.
"The kids are safe now," he says quietly, just for me, his thumb brushing once across my knuckles.
The touch centers me, pulling me back from the emotional edge before I spiral. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on what I can control—the data, the connections, the evidence.
"Show them what you recovered from your backups," Asher prompts, his voice softening as he addresses me directly.
I snap out of my explaining-things trance, remembering my recovered data.
"Here—let me pull up what I saved." I unplug my external drive from where it's been syncing and connect it to Asher's laptop. In seconds, I've commandeered his living room's pristine simplicity, transforming the blank wall into a digital canvas with a projector function I found buried in his smart home system.
Asher makes a noise somewhere between surprise and annoyance when my charts and graphs splash across his previously bare wall. His eyebrow lifts slightly—the Frost equivalent of a full-body flinch.
"Sorry," I whisper, not sorry at all. "Your wall makes a better display than this tiny screen."
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn't object.Progress.
Unable to stay seated another second, I push up from the couch and pace the length of the room.
"Vertex Models' Sacramento location recruited twenty-three women last quarter who all disappeared from their tracking system after being sent on international assignments." My hands gesture wildly as I speak, my brain moving faster than my mouth.
Each time I pass the laptop, I tap keys to bring up new files: faces, financial records, travel dates that abruptly end. My stomach clenches at seeing their photographs. Bright smiles, frozen in time before they vanished.
Suddenly, Asher rises from the couch and plants himself directly in my path. I nearly crash into his chest, stopping just inches from a collision. He towers over me, his broader frame effectively halting my momentum.
"Breathe," he mouths silently, his eyes locked on mine.
I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. The sudden gulp of air makes me dizzy.
Asher turns back to the call, his hand settling at the small of my back, fingers splaying possessively. The touch is light but comforting, spreading warmth through my body that has nothing to do with the investigation.
"Vanessa's traced significant payments from the same offshore accounts that funded Steele's operation," he explains to Kade and Alina, his calm voice contrasting with the storm inside me.
