It was a chance, a big chance, but she had to do it. They had taken her blindfold off. The truth hit her in the gut, making her taste bile. She’d seen them. They weren’t going to let her go, no matter their promises.

They’d brought down a small desk, almost like one of those old-fashioned writing desks she remembered from elementary school. They’d brought a laptop, too. Told her what they needed, what they wanted. She had complied, agreed to do what they wanted, and only hoped that they weren’t smart enough to discover her own ulterior motives.

Her orders? Hack into the Department of Homeland Security. She was good, but was she good enough? Could she get past their firewalls, their security measures, to get the information they wanted?

After they had taken her blindfold off, she got her first good look at Clay Mosby, CEO of the Guardian Knights. He hadn’t been at all what she’d expected. Not a block-shaped gangster with a broken nose or scarred face. Actually, he looked like an accountant, or maybe even a banker. Pale, even slightly on the pudgy side. Tall, but other than his height, he wasn’t really intimidating or imposing at all. Except for his eyes . . . so dark his pupils blended in with the mahogany brown of his irises. That gaze, so direct, so . . . confident and arrogant. He was a man used to being in charge, used to controlling things. She’d been around enough men like him to recognize the type. Not like Asher—

No, don’t think about Asher or what happened to him. You can lose it later.

Ellie didn’t know why Mosby wanted her to hack into Homeland Security, and she didn’t ask. She was told what to look for, but before that, the main challenge would be just getting past the firewalls and network security. Those security systems had been designed by the best of the best. Was she good enough? She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She had to be. Failure was not an option.

“Work faster.”

She glanced up. Mosby was hovering in the now open doorway of her jail cell, arms crossed over his chest. “There’s a lot of code to get through,” she mumbled. She gestured toward the screen, inviting him to look, but he didn’t move. “I’ve gotten through one firewall, and I have two more to go, and that doesn’t even begin to count the security on the inside.”

“Five hours to get through one firewall?”

She scowled. “Have you ever tried to hack into the Pentagon? It’s about the same,” she snapped. She grimaced and hunched her shoulders in expectation of a blow, but it didn’t come. Mosby didn’t move except to grin.

“You’ve got moxie, I like that,” he said. “But we’re also in a bit of a hurry, so speed it up.”

Moxie . . . who said that anymore? Maybe he really did imagine himself one of those gangsters. “I’m doing the best I can,” she muttered, her gaze once again riveted to the black computer screen covered with line after line of code, her fingers tapping, supposedly searching for another way in while leaving breadcrumbs herself, praying that someone from Asher’s team was monitoring, was looking into Guardian Knights, looking into the senator’s trail in the National Defense Committee. Had Asher told his boss about them? She could only pray he had.

Until they found her trail, Ellie had to stall for as much time as possible. She continued to leave her snippets of code scattered within the encoded messages of the senator, while at the same time attempting to get through the second firewall of the Department of Homeland Security. She hadn’t been lying about that part. She really had passed through the first firewall. At any other time, she would have been impressed and proud of herself for achieving such an accomplishment. She didn’t know anyone who had managed that, but she had no one to share her sense of pride with. These guys didn’t care. They didn’t even seem impressed. They just wanted her to do it.

She could only hope that Asher had been telling the truth about their side, his side. That there were some good hackers on his team, too, because it was the only way she would ever be found. The only way she’d manage to live through this. The only way they could find her and these guys from Guardian Knights. And it was the only way that she could get even in her own small way, for Asher. For Asher’s sacrifice.

Thoughts of Asher brought up a surge of emotions, the queasy feeling in her stomach, cold shudders racing down her spine. Her fault. It had all been her fault. He’d been right. If she hadn’t been snooping where she didn’t belong, then she wouldn’t be down here, in an abandoned jail cell with a group of international mercenaries selling weapons to the enemies of the United States. Asher wouldn’t be dead, and . . . 

A distant rumble prompted her fingers to pause as she glanced up from the computer screen. Her fingers froze as she stared wide-eyed at the tendrils of dust drifting down from the ceiling, along with a small chunk of plaster and a strip of peeling paint. Mosby straightened, immediately tense, glancing up in alarm. He snapped his fingers, and two men standing in the shadows in the hallway outside of the jail cell raced toward the door at the far end, their footsteps pounding upward as they took to the stairs.

Above them, sharp popping sounds erupted, as did shouts, and more popping sounds—gunfire? Gunfire! Was it . . . could it possibly be Asher’s team? Had they seen her code, figured it out, and located her? Was it possible? Did she dare—

Mosby stepped forward, grabbed the laptop from the desk, and slammed it shut. With a curse, he left the jail cell, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud, metallic clang. Only then did he turn to glare at her over his shoulder.

“Be right back,” he said, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Ellie stood from the desk and stepped toward the bars, clutching them, white-knuckled with hope and desperation. Please, let it be Asher’s team! Another explosion shook the walls, prompting several more tendrils of dust to sift downward. Up above, pounding footsteps, automatic gunfire, shouts . . . what the hell was happening?!

The firefight grew so violent that she cringed. Ellie stepped away from the jail bars and backed toward the corner, climbing onto one of the metal bed frames. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hands covering her ears, and tried to make herself invisible. Oh, God. It was loud, so loud! Dozens of shots fired, shouting, screams . . . 

How many men did Mosby have guarding their hideout? How many men in Asher’s team? If that’s even who this was. For all she knew—

Another explosion, closer this time. A large chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling, clanging down onto the metal bed frame just a foot from where Ellie huddled. She squeezed her eyes shut and choked back a scream. A strange smell permeated the air, making her eyes water, prompting her to cough. Tear gas? A flash-bang? Her heart pounded, her ears rang with the sound of gunfire, and she trembled wildly, praying that the good guys would win, praying that she would be rescued, praying that—

Suddenly, all was quiet.

An eerie silence filled the space, after the cacophony of gunfire and explosions. She opened her eyes, watching the dust continue to settle, and then once again, the sound of pounding footsteps. Her heart thundered with dread. Were Mosby and his men coming down to kill her now? Had they figured out what she had done? What if—

“Ellie!”

Her heart jumped, launching into her throat as she stared, wide-eyed at the door to her jail cell. That voice sounded a lot like Asher’s. But he was dead—

“Ellie!”

Oh, God . . . she had to answer. “Here,” she cried out, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Dust filled her throat, emotion choking her. “I’m here!” She tried again, and then heard footsteps, closer, pausing every few feet . . . “I’m here!”

And then, there he was, standing in front of her jail cell, bloodied but alive. She stared in disbelief for several seconds, taking him in, her body weak with relief, wetness on her cheeks. Oh, God, he was alive. Asher wasn’t dead, he was alive! She leapt from the metal bench and raced toward the bars, wanting to throw herself into his arms, to hold him, to feel his arms around her, but all she could do was reach through the bars and clutch at his forearms.

“Oh, my God, they told me you were dead! They told me you were dead!”

He grinned. “They’ll have to try a lot harder than that,” he said.

Somehow, they were kissing, their bodies pressed forward against the bars, making as much contact as possible with the bars between them. Her heart raced with joy, with relief, her spirits soaring, her hope restored. His lips were on hers, so soft, yet so strong, and she returned the kiss with every emotion she had, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks as she reached up to grasp his hair in her fingers, relishing its texture.

It was only after they broke off the kiss that she noticed a man standing behind Asher, an amused expression on his face. She uttered a gasp, and Asher glanced over his shoulder, then back at her.

“Ellie, this is Jackson. My boss.”

Ellie stared at Jackson, at his pointed gaze, and offered a small smile. “Your guys figured it out. You found my breadcrumbs.”

“We did more than that, Ellie,” Jackson said. “We’ve got Mosby, the senator, and the aide from the Department of Homeland Security.”

Asher glanced at him, and then back to her. “What say we get you out of here?”