Move the Sun (Signal Bend Series) by Susan Fanetti

found two new assignments, neither of which looked like it would take a great deal of time—a few hours each—but each with a hard deadline and high clearance. She knew what she’d be doing tonight. She replied, confirming the deadline for their completion. Then she logged out and came back in another way, so she could quietly check with her contact on what she was calling her side job. There was no new message, so she sent one of her own.
    She wrote in code as if it were another language in which she was fluent, but the actual message she sent was: In place. Need an update. Don’t make me wait.
    ~oOo~
    She worked on her first assignment right away, finishing it and sending it back, newly encrypted, only breaking to make her bed and use the bathroom. She checked the time on her laptop: nearly 8pm. Her stomach rumbled, and she decided she’d pack it in for the night, make herself some supper, and spend the evening with a book.
    She went into the kitchen and pulled out the fixings for a salad. She’d also bought a decent rib-eye; might as well have that as fresh as possible. She found a cast-iron skillet in one of the cabinets and put it on the stove.
    While she cooked, she reflected on her first couple of days in Signal Bend. Things weren’t going as she’d planned. She’d known that a new person in a small town would be noticed, so she wasn’t trying to stay under the radar. She’d gone in conducting herself as if she were really moving to town for the long haul—hell, there was probably no reason that she couldn’t stay long term if she wanted, assuming all went well, and if she didn’t mind losing her real last name. She hadn’t expected quite the notice she’d gotten for her car and her run, but those were totally controllable factors.
    But with Isaac, she’d managed to make herself the talk of the town. That had been blazingly apparent at breakfast, but she’d gotten her first inkling of it when that bitch had gotten the drop on her at the bar. Setting aside her irritation at herself for not keeping an eye on her flank and letting some dumb broad put hands on her—put a damn gun to her head—she kicked herself for not recognizing immediately that just sitting with Isaac had pulled down a lot of attention on her head. She’d even remarked on the attention the other bikers were paying them, but she’d been so lulled by his presence that she’d thought no more of it.
    Being connected with Isaac didn’t kill her plans, though; it simply changed them. She had to factor him in. And there might be something useful in a connection to the most powerful man in town. It could give her decent cover. Hiding in plain sight was often excellent cover, because it confounded expectations. And she obviously could not be in plainer sight around these parts than when she was with Isaac.
    He knew she was hiding something, but she felt fairly confident that it was beyond his ability to learn anything she didn’t want him to know. She had to admit, too, that she enjoyed the little chess game—she’d liked his analogy a lot—they had going. It turned her on.
    Which was, of course, the other thing. The thing that might actually be a complication. Isaac turned her on. A lot. She’d spent the better part of the day remembering the morning’s romp. He was big, strong, gorgeous, had a great cock, and was really damn good in the sack. He had power—not just external power, influence, but inherent power. It came off him in almost visible waves. And he was smart. He’d shocked the shit out of her by recognizing where the quote on her side was from, but it was more than that. She could see his intelligence in his eyes.
    He was, as far as Lilli was concerned, the complete package. So she wasn’t sad at all that she needed to keep him close, keep an eye on him. But there was a danger, too, of getting attached. Lilli knew herself. She could get attached to a man like him. Wouldn’t keep her from doing what she needed to do,