Under His Cover

Chapter 12: Breach

The air between them burned.

Evangeline could feel the solid, unyielding heat of Alexander’s body pressed against her front, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the faint, erratic pulse throbbing at his throat. His grey eyes were locked onto hers, dark and unreadable, hovering so close that her vision blurred with his breath warm against her mouth.

Then, he closed the gap.

It wasn't a tentative, performative brush of lips. Alexander cupped the side of her jaw with his large hand, his thumb resting firmly over her cheekbone, and pulled her into a kiss that was deep, possessive, and devastatingly real.

A sharp gasp hitched in Evangeline’s throat, but the sound was instantly swallowed by his mouth. His lips moved over hers with a practiced, velvet authority that sent an electric shock straight down her spine, pooling hot into her stomach. For a terrifying, intoxicating second, her brain short-circuited. Her fingers, which had been resting against his chest to push him away, curled instinctively into the fine lapels of his tuxedo jacket.

She wasn't breathing. She couldn't think. The hum of the ballroom, the crystal chandeliers, the guards—everything dissolved into the sheer sensory overload of Alexander Vance consuming her entire world.

When he finally pulled back, he didn't do it quickly. His lips dragged softly across hers, lingering for a fraction of a heartbeat before his forehead rested lightly against hers. His breath was ragged, his thumb tracing a slow, heavy line over her cheek before dropping back to his side.

A low, amused chuckle broke the heavy silence.

"Well," Viktor Kozlov said, a wide, satisfied grin stretching across his aged face as he took a slow sip of his scotch. "It seems the rumors of your passion were not exaggerated after all, Alexander. Forgive an old man’s cynicism. In our line of work, trust is a rare luxury."

Alexander turned smoothly toward Kozlov, his hand remaining resting lightly on the curve of Evangeline's waist, his expression sliding effortlessly back into an arrogant, lazily confident smile.

"Trust is earned, Viktor," Alexander replied smoothly, his baritone voice a notch deeper than usual. "And I don't care for people questioning what belongs to me."

"Understood," Kozlov said, raising his glass in a silent toast before gesturing to his security detail. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, my friends. I have business to attend to upstairs."

As Kozlov and his towering bodyguards turned and melted back into the milling crowd, Evangeline stood completely frozen. Her lips were tingling, her pulse racing so hard she was convinced Alexander could hear it echoing off his ribs.

The moment Kozlov was out of sight, she snapped out of her daze.

She ripped herself out of Alexander's grip, stepping back into the shadow of a massive marble pillar. Her dark eyes flashed with an dangerous, fiery intensity, her waist-length twist braids swaying as her shoulders squared.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper, though it packed enough venom to kill a man.

Alexander adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his expression infuriatingly cool, though a subtle flicker of dark intensity still lingered in the depth of his grey eyes. "It was an cover save. Kozlov was five seconds away from calling our bluff and having his men search us."

"You kissed me!"

"I saved the mission," Alexander corrected smoothly, stepping closer until he towered over her, his shadow falling over her midnight-blue gown. "And unless my memory fails me, sweetheart, you didn't exactly fight it off. Your hands were on my collar."

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, a hot flush climbing up her neck that had absolutely nothing to do with anger. She poked a sharp, French-manicured finger directly into his broad chest. "I was maintaining cover. If you ever improvise like that again without my permission, Vance, I will put a bullet through your knee. Do you understand me?"

A slow, wolfish smirk curled the corner of Alexander’s lips. He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper. "I’ll keep that in mind. Now, are we going to stand here debating my technique, or are we going to steal Kozlov’s ledger?"

Evangeline glared at him for one long, lethal second before drawing a sharp breath and forcing her heart rate back down to a cold, operational baseline. Professionalism first. She would deal with Alexander’s infuriating lips later.

"Kozlov is heading toward the VIP elevator," she said, her voice dropping into crisp, tactical focus. "He’ll be busy in the secondary lounge for at least twenty minutes. That gives us our window."

"East corridor," Alexander agreed, his gaze darting across the ballroom floor, scanning the security camera sweep patterns. "Blind spot near the service pantry in ten seconds. Move."

They glided through the crowd with practiced, predatory grace. To the casual observer, they were just a breathtaking couple looking for a private nook away from the party. But as they crossed the threshold of the heavy oak doors leading to the East corridor, the illusion vanished instantly.

The moment the thick doors clicked shut behind them, cutting off the muffled sounds of the jazz orchestra, the energy shifted completely.

The service hallway was long, carpeted in deep crimson, and dimly lit by brass wall sconces. Evangeline slipped off her high heels in one fluid movement, holding them by the straps in her left hand so her feet moved silently across the floor. Alexander reached inside his jacket, his hand coming back with a compact, ultra-slim electronic jammer, which he subtly attached to the base of the nearest security camera dome mounted on the wall. The small LED indicator on the device flickered from red to blue, looping the last five seconds of empty hallway footage back to the security monitoring room.

"Camera clear for twelve minutes," Alexander muttered, his eyes constantly sweeping the hallway behind them.

"I only need three," Evangeline replied coldly.

They reached the end of the corridor, stopping in front of a pair of heavy mahogany double doors marked Private Office. Mounted next to the handle was an elite military-grade biometric keypad—a digital lock that required both an eight-digit rolling passcode and an authorized thumbprint.

Alexander leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his broad arms over his chest, a mocking glint returning to his eyes. "All yours, hacker. Let's see if those fast fingers are good for something other than clawing at my jacket."

Evangeline didn't even look at him. "Keep talking and I'll leave you in here when the alarms go off."

She pulled a sleek, lipstick-sized metallic cylinder from the hidden pocket stitched inside the slit of her dress. She twisted the top, extending a tiny, flexible micro-cable. Slipping the end of the cable into the microscopic seam beneath the keypad's digital display, she pulled up an interface on her smartwatch.

Lines of green code scrolled frantically across her wrist display, reflecting in her sharp, dark eyes.

"Bypassing the firewall," she murmured under her breath, her fingers flying over the touch screen with terrifying speed. "Encryption key is 256-bit... standard syndicate protocol. Lazy."

"Thirty seconds, Evangeline," Alexander warned softly, his posture instantly shifting from relaxed to hyper-alert as he placed a hand inside his jacket, resting his palm over the grip of his suppressed firearm. "Patrol shift change is coming up."

"Done," she snapped cleanly.

The digital lock beeped twice, its light glowing a soft, permissive green. The heavy latch clicked open.

Evangeline smirked sideways at Alexander. "Two minutes and ten seconds. You owe me fifty grand."

"Put it on my tab," he grunted, reaching past her to push the heavy mahogany door open.

They slipped inside the office, the door shutting silently behind them. The room was massive, lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, heavy leather armchairs, and a massive mahogany desk positioning in front of a grand window overlooking the city skyline.

Without wasting a second, Evangeline moved straight for the desk, while Alexander moved to secure the perimeter, checking the private side door and monitoring the hallway feed on his device.

Evangeline pulled open the central desk drawer. Inside sat a heavy steel biometric safe. She pulled a small vial of thermal dust from her dress, light dusting the keypad before shining an ultraviolet light over the buttons. Four numbers glowed brightly on the key surface: 4, 9, 2, and 7.

"Sequence is thermal-tracked," she whispered, punching in the combination.

Click.

The steel safe popped open. Nestled inside, lying atop stacks of offshore bearer bonds, was a matte-black encrypted flash drive—the complete financial ledger detailing Kozlov's entire global trafficking syndicate.

"Got it," Evangeline said, her voice tinged with a cold triumph as her fingers wrapped around the small drive.

"Good. Now put your shoes back on and let's—"

Alexander froze mid-sentence.

His head snapped toward the hallway door. His icy grey eyes went sharp, his entire posture locking into dead silence.

Evangeline felt the shift in the air instantly. She dropped the flash drive into her hidden pocket, grabbed her heels, and moved toward him, her movements entirely noiseless.

Down the hallway outside, the faint, heavy sound of combat boots echoed against the carpeted floor.

"Security patrol?" she whispered, her breath barely making a sound.

"No," Alexander muttered, checking his wrist device. "Patrol isn't due for five minutes. It's Kozlov's personal escort. He left the lounge early."

The heavy footsteps stopped directly outside the mahogany door. The distinct, metallic chime of the keypad echoed through the door panels as someone began entering the master passcode from the outside.

There was zero time to reach the window. Zero time to reach the side door without making noise.

Alexander acted on raw instinct. He grabbed Evangeline by the waist, lifting her almost effortlessly off her feet, and backed rapidly into the shadowed corner of the office where a narrow, floor-to-ceiling oak storage cabinet stood built into the wall. He kicked the narrow wooden door open, hauled her inside, and pulled the cabinet door shut until it rested just a fraction of an inch from the latch—leaving them shrouded in pitch darkness.

The timing was razor-thin.

A split second after the cabinet door clicked shut, the main office door swung open with a heavy thud. Bright light from the hallway spilled across the office floor, cutting through the cracks of the wooden cabinet slats.

"Check the safe," Kozlov’s gravelly voice ordered from inside the room. "I have a bad feeling about those two."

Inside the cramped cabinet, there was barely enough physical space for one person, let alone two elite operatives built like them.

Evangeline was pressed completely against the back wall of the cabinet, her front crushed entirely against Alexander’s broad torso. His long arms were wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her locked in place, his broad shoulders blocking her completely from the light filtering through the slats. Her face was buried directly into the crook of his neck, her nose filled once again with the intoxicating scent of rain, sandalwood, and his warm skin.

She couldn't move a muscle. Every rise of her chest pressed her breasts directly against the firm wall of his ribs. She could feel his heart hammering wildly against hers—not from fear, but from the raw, dangerous adrenaline coursing through both their veins.

Alexander’s hand moved up, his long fingers gently cupping the back of her neck, pressing her head closer into his chest to shield her from making the slightest movement. His head dipped down until his lips were hovering right against the sensitive skin of her exposed collarbone.

"Don't move," his breath brushed against her skin, so faint it was barely a sensation. "Don't even breathe."

Outside the cabinet, heavy footsteps crossed the hardwood floor, stopping barely two feet away from where they were hiding.

Evangeline held her breath, her hand resting flat over Alexander's chest, feeling the dangerous, thrilling heat of his body in the dark as the footsteps drew closer.