Page 59 of Shadow Burn

He went to his keyboard and tapped a few keys, staring at the monitors.

Katherine picked up the sandwich. It wouldn’t hurt to eat a few bites and make him happy. She took two, then set it down. “There. Premium package satisfied?”

He glanced over. “Not even close.” He grabbed the plate. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“You’re taking a break.”

“I can’t leave this.”

“You can for ten minutes.”

She shook her head but stood. Her muscles protested and she stretched and yawned. “I don’t have ten minutes.”

“Yes, you do.” He offered his hand. “Come on.”

She stared at his large, steady hand, familiar now in ways she hadn’t expected. He’d cleaned glass from her palm. He’d placed her hand against the biometric panel. He’d covered her shaking fingers after the federal plate reveal. He was offering it now, not because she needed help walking, but because he understood that leaving the desk felt like losing ground.

She took it. His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm, and the pressure in her chest loosened a notch.

Priss hopped down from the box and trotted after them.

They left the office and walked down the corridor. Katherine felt the pull of the papers behind her as surely as if someone had tied a thread between her ribs and the Vance boxes. The deadline ticked in her head.

Jasper didn’t speak as low voices drifted from the conference room and a door clicked shut somewhere farther off. He dropped off her plate in the kitchen, then led her to the common area. She came to a dead stop.

A ping-pong table stood in the center of the room. Two paddles sat on the green table beside a small white ball. Someone had shoved the beanbags into a corner and pushed the coffee table against the wall to make space.

She turned to look at him. “You got a ping-pong table.”

“You can thank Vivi.”

“Because you asked for it?”

“I may have filed a mental-health requisition.”

Her throat tightened in the most inconvenient way. Of all the things that had happened in the past two days, this nearly undid her. “You shouldn’t have done this,” she said.

“Probably not.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He picked up a paddle and spun it once in his hand. “You said you were mean at ping-pong.”

“I also said I hadn’t played in years.”

“Sounds like backpedaling.”

Her brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, if you’re worried I’ll beat you, there’s no shame in admitting it.”

The noise in her head went quiet enough for one clear, offended thought to rise above it. “I’m not worried you’ll beat me.”

“You sure? Because you have the look of a woman protecting a reputation she can’t defend.”

Priss jumped onto the couch and settled in as if preparing for drama.