He arched his brow.
She went on. "Earlier, Makros was holding up a file, I bet it contained transcripts of the conversations between the spy and the enemy. How did he know so much? That takes a lot of hacking, computer work. Is Makros a hacker or something?"
Stefanos grinned. "You're right, he did hack his way into the information. But God, no, Makros doesn't know shit about computers."
Leila waited silently.
He leaned back in his chair. "There's a comm room. That's where the excitement takes place. Surveillance, tracing, gathering information. It's where Makros keeps track of everything. But Dragon is in charge of the hacking."
Leila fought to seem interested on the surface only. "Where is it?"
Stefanos blew ash off his cigarette. "West wing. But you won't get in without a key card."
Her pulse pounded. "And who has a key card?"
He smiled. "Me. My uncle. And of course, Makros himself."
Leila exhaled quietly, tilting her head. "Can I see it?"
Stefanos chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice try. I wouldn't even give it up at gunpoint."
She did not respond immediately. Instead, she let her fingers trace small circles on his wrist, her caress as light as a feather.
Stefanos' eyes deepened. "What are you doing?"
Leila nipped at his jaw with her lips. "What do you think?"
He breathed out, his grip on his glass tightening.
Then she kissed him.
Slowly at first, testing.
His fingers stroked around to her waist, pulling her close. She deepened the kiss, catching him by surprise, sending himinto a moment of thoughtlessness. The kiss was hungry, she didn't give him a second to think, she ran her hands down to his crotch, but she was stylishly frisking him.
And when he shifted his gaze, hand stretching to the ash tray to keep the cigarette, her fingers moved fast.
The card slipped out of his pocket before he even returned his gaze, not realizing she had taken it from him.
Leila broke away, her lips still covered with the flavor of whiskey and smoke.
"Thanks for listening," she whispered, hitting his chest.
She retreated, stepping away from him, while his body was still warm from her touch.
"Leila—"
"I'm sorry Stefanos," Leila said, not turning to face him. "Baby steps."
He picked up his glass of whiskey and downed the remaining content, watching her through the rim of the glass as she sashayed away from him.
The west wing hung silently, dark and menacing.
Leila moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows. She could hear the hushed sound of muffled voices, but when she looked around, there was no one there. It was coming from the opposite direction.
She found the door Stefanos had mentioned. The complex was subservient to Crete's nightclub.
And just as Stefanos had conveyed, the door was protected by a key card reader. There was a security camera in the corner. Leila took care not to stand in front of the camera.
