Storm Reed doesn’t do disasters, or anyone taking the piss out of her name. She prevents them.
As Head of HR and Internal Compliance for Scout Drilling, Storm is the one sent in when things are being buried, people are lying, and the truth is dangerous. So, when Aquila Station—Scout’s most valuable Arctic asset—starts bleeding data, personnel, and secrets, Storm is activated to shut it down.
What she doesn’t expect is Cole Reardon.
A former military operator turned private security consultant, Cole was embedded to investigate Aquila from the shadows—until someone tried to silence him. Now trapped in a frozen station crawling with sabotage, corporate betrayal, and a conspiracy big enough to level the ice shelf beneath their feet, Storm and Cole are forced into an uneasy alliance.
The pressure is relentless. The danger is escalating. And the attraction between them burns hotter than the Arctic storm closing in.
If they fail, Aquila falls.
If they trust the wrong person, they die.
And if they give in to each other, there may be no turning back.
Some storms are survived. Others change everything.
Excerpt:
The chopper settled onto the pad, blades whipping snow into tight spirals. The door opened.
And she stepped out.
Not a man. Not a clipboard carrier in a trench coat. Not someone who’d wilt at the first fuel leak.
This woman had steel in her spine.
Her boots hit the tarmac with a sharp, decisive sound. Dark thermal pants tucked into snow-rated tactical boots. A streamlined, regulation-issue coat with a Scout Drilling logo on the arm. Her black hair was cut into a sharp bob that would be sleek if the wind ever stopped trying to murder it.
And her eyes—cool, bright blue—swept the outpost like she already knew what was broken.
They stood ten paces apart, neither moving. Opposite ends of a chessboard.
Cole spoke first.
“Let me guess,” he said, voice low and roughened by cold and long nights. “You’re HR.”
One eyebrow lifted. Her mouth twitched, just barely. “And you’re the contractor who stopped submitting reports two days ago.”
“Well,” he shrugged, “figured I’d wait for someone who could read them.”
She closed the distance with precise steps. “Storm Reed. Director of HR Compliance. Field-deployed.”
He didn’t offer a hand. Just nodded once. “Cole Reardon. On-site disappointment.”
The corner of her mouth curved. “I was told you’d be charming.”
“I was told you weren’t coming.” He eyed her. “Guess someone drew the short straw.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “No straw. I volunteered.”
That gave him pause.
He’d expected polished detachment. Someone sent to slap forms on desks and leave. Instead, there was weight to her—quiet, deliberate. The kind that came from knowing which battles mattered.
“You always open with sarcasm?” he asked.
“Only when I’m deciding if someone’s an asset or a liability.”
Wind lashed snow across the tarmac. Tower lights cut through the gray. Behind them, the site loomed—twelve buildings, a mobile drill tower, a maintenance rig. Silent. Watchful.
“Where’s command?” she asked.
He turned and started walking. “This way. You’ll want gloves.”
“I’m good.”
“You’ll lose a finger.”
“I don’t need all ten to write a report.”
He barked a quiet laugh. “You’re not what I expected.”
“You expected a bureaucrat.”
“I expected someone I could ignore.”
She didn’t respond.
Inside the ops unit, heat hit like a wall. Cole pulled off his gloves and motioned her toward the U-shaped central console, screens glowing beside two thick logbooks.
She sat, scanning everything in front of her at unsettling speed.
“You log offline redundancies?” she asked, eyes still on the screens.
“I log anything that smells wrong.”
“That’s a long list.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Her gaze snapped up. She leaned in. “Then start talking.”
Cole studied her—clean lines, steady posture, no wasted motion. He knew who she was. Reed’s sister. One of the owners. The family had a reputation: tight ship, serious money, and an almost inconvenient commitment to safety.
“All right, Reed,” he said. “This place is wrong. People are scared. Inventory’s off. Manifests don’t match. Someone tried to overwrite the internal server last week.”
“And you didn’t report it?”
“I did. Twice. Got a receipt for my service file. Then silence.”
“So, now you’re trusting me.”
He crossed his arms. “Didn’t say that. Just ran out of better options.”
She nodded once. “We start with shift schedules and chain of custody on the sealed crates.”
He looked at her—really looked—and something shifted. Not attraction. Not yet. Something closer to alignment.
“You actually came to fix this.”
“This site is tied to Scout Drilling,” she said calmly. “We may not own it, but our name is embedded here. I came to find the rot and cut it out.”
And for the first time since landing in this frozen hellscape, Cole Reardon felt something dangerously close to hope.
Or trouble.
Either way—she’d just walked straight into it.
Chapter Two
An operational Arctic base like Aquila Station—even between rotations—should’ve been loud. Engines whining. Boots ringing against steel. Radio chatter snapping through the air.
Instead, it was still.
Unnaturally so.
A few crew members lingered near the fuel hub. One mechanic tightened bolts beneath a supply drone. No one moved with purpose. No one moved like they had a place to be, and things to do.
Her manifest listed eighteen active personnel.
She’d seen four.
Storm filed the thought away like a live wire and kept moving.
A rotating schedule wasn’t unusual this far north, but transitions were normally precise. Coordinated. This wasn’t that. This was absence pretending to be order.
Skeleton crew for diagnostics, the welcome memo had claimed. She didn’t buy it. Not with comms failures. Not with missing staff. And not with Cole Reardon pacing behind her like a loaded weapon.
She hadn’t expected warmth here—not real warmth. Not the kind that came from a six-foot-two, tactical-grade problem with sharp eyes and an instinct for corruption better than anyone back at HQ.
She especially hadn’t expected to feel it under her skin.
The command center hummed softly—servers, heaters, the low industrial thrum under the grates. Wind scraped endlessly across the hull overhead. The entire site felt like a floating graveyard.
Waiting.
Storm sat elbows-deep in falsified equipment logs, the monitor’s blue glow reflecting off her glasses. Her fingers flew—timestamps, badge logs, user IDs. Breadcrumbs.
Behind her, Cole stood too close.
She spoke without looking up. “Two of these personnel signatures were entered from off-site servers.”
He leaned in just behind her shoulder, close enough that she felt him—not touching, but present. She could feel his barely leashed power and unspeakable control.
“Those servers don’t exist,” he said.
She arched a brow. “So, we’re blaming ghosts now?”
“Only if your ghost knows how to bypass biometrics and loop footage.”
She exhaled through her nose. “Corporate saboteur with a side of hacker.”
{"num_reviews":0,"add_this":[{"service":"facebook","annotation":""},{"service":"email","annotation":""},{"service":"print","annotation":""},{"service":"twitter","annotation":""}],"gtin":null,"id":3619,"can_purchase":true,"meta_description":"","category":["Contemporary","Romance on the Go","Suspense","Erotic "],"AddThisServiceButtonMeta":"","main_image":{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f3619\u002f3905\u002fperfectstorm1l__32563.1779936061.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Erotic Romantic Suspense\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 16, 500\n\nISBN: 978-0-3695-0548-4\n\nEditor: CA Clauson\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"},"add_to_wishlist_url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fwishlist.php?action=add&product_id=3619","custom_fields":[{"id":"751","name":"Series","value":"\u002fseries-collateral-legacy-trilogy\u002f"}],"sku":"978-0-3695-0548-4","backorder_availability_prompt":"","url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fperfect-storm-by-maia-dylan\u002f","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 14pt;\"\u003e\u003cem\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eCollateral Legacy Trilogy, 3\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fem\u003e\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eStorm Reed doesn’t do disasters, or anyone taking the piss out of her name. She prevents them.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eAs Head of HR and Internal Compliance for Scout Drilling, Storm is the one sent in when things are being buried, people are lying, and the truth is dangerous. So, when Aquila Station—Scout’s most valuable Arctic asset—starts bleeding data, personnel, and secrets, Storm is activated to shut it down.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eWhat she doesn’t expect is Cole Reardon.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eA former military operator turned private security consultant, Cole was embedded to investigate Aquila from the shadows—until someone tried to silence him. Now trapped in a frozen station crawling with sabotage, corporate betrayal, and a conspiracy big enough to level the ice shelf beneath their feet, Storm and Cole are forced into an uneasy alliance.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eThe pressure is relentless. The danger is escalating. And the attraction between them burns hotter than the Arctic storm closing in.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eIf they fail, Aquila falls.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eIf they trust the wrong person, they die.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eAnd if they give in to each other, there may be no turning back.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cbr \u002f\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eSome storms are survived. Others change everything.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e \u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eExcerpt:\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fstrong\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eThe chopper settled onto the pad, blades whipping snow into tight spirals. The door opened.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eAnd she stepped out.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eNot a man. Not a clipboard carrier in a trench coat. Not someone who’d wilt at the first fuel leak.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eThis woman had steel in her spine.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHer boots hit the tarmac with a sharp, decisive sound. Dark thermal pants tucked into snow-rated tactical boots. A streamlined, regulation-issue coat with a Scout Drilling logo on the arm. Her black hair was cut into a sharp bob that would be sleek if the wind ever stopped trying to murder it.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eAnd her eyes—cool, bright blue—swept the outpost like she already knew what was broken.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eThey stood ten paces apart, neither moving. Opposite ends of a chessboard.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eCole spoke first.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“Let me guess,” he said, voice low and roughened by cold and long nights. “You’re HR.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eOne eyebrow lifted. Her mouth twitched, just barely. “And you’re the contractor who stopped submitting reports two days ago.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“Well,” he shrugged, “figured I’d wait for someone who could read them.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe closed the distance with precise steps. “Storm Reed. Director of HR Compliance. Field-deployed.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHe didn’t offer a hand. Just nodded once. “Cole Reardon. On-site disappointment.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eThe corner of her mouth curved. “I was told you’d be charming.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“I was told you weren’t coming.” He eyed her. “Guess someone drew the short straw.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe tilted her head, studying him. “No straw. I volunteered.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eThat gave him pause.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHe’d expected polished detachment. Someone sent to slap forms on desks and leave. Instead, there was weight to her—quiet, deliberate. The kind that came from knowing which battles mattered.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“You always open with sarcasm?” he asked.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“Only when I’m deciding if someone’s an asset or a liability.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eWind lashed snow across the tarmac. Tower lights cut through the gray. Behind them, the site loomed—twelve buildings, a mobile drill tower, a maintenance rig. Silent. Watchful.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“Where’s command?” she asked.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHe turned and started walking. “This way. You’ll want gloves.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“I’m good.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“You’ll lose a finger.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“I don’t need all ten to write a report.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHe barked a quiet laugh. “You’re not what I expected.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“You expected a bureaucrat.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“I expected someone I could ignore.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe didn’t respond.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eInside the ops unit, heat hit like a wall. Cole pulled off his gloves and motioned her toward the U-shaped central console, screens glowing beside two thick logbooks.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe sat, scanning everything in front of her at unsettling speed.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“You log offline redundancies?” she asked, eyes still on the screens.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“I log anything that smells wrong.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“That’s a long list.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“You don’t know the half of it.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHer gaze snapped up. She leaned in. “Then start talking.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eCole studied her—clean lines, steady posture, no wasted motion. He knew who she was. Reed’s sister. One of the owners. The family had a reputation: tight ship, serious money, and an almost inconvenient commitment to safety.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“All right, Reed,” he said. “This place is wrong. People are scared. Inventory’s off. Manifests don’t match. Someone tried to overwrite the internal server last week.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“And you didn’t report it?”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“I did. Twice. Got a receipt for my service file. Then silence.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“So, now you’re trusting me.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHe crossed his arms. “Didn’t say that. Just ran out of better options.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe nodded once. “We start with shift schedules and chain of custody on the sealed crates.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHe looked at her—really looked—and something shifted. Not attraction. Not yet. Something closer to alignment.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“You actually came to fix this.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“This site is tied to Scout Drilling,” she said calmly. “We may not own it, but our name is embedded here. I came to find the rot and cut it out.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eAnd for the first time since landing in this frozen hellscape, Cole Reardon felt something dangerously close to hope.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eOr trouble.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eEither way—she’d just walked straight into it.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e \u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003ch1\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eChapter Two\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fh1\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e \u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eAn operational Arctic base like Aquila Station—even between rotations—should’ve been loud. Engines whining. Boots ringing against steel. Radio chatter snapping through the air.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eInstead, it was still.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eUnnaturally so.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eA few crew members lingered near the fuel hub. One mechanic tightened bolts beneath a supply drone. No one moved with purpose. No one moved like they had a place to be, and things to do.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHer manifest listed eighteen active personnel.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe’d seen four.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eStorm filed the thought away like a live wire and kept moving.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eA rotating schedule wasn’t unusual this far north, but transitions were normally precise. Coordinated. This wasn’t that. This was absence pretending to be order.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eSkeleton crew for diagnostics, the welcome memo had claimed. She didn’t buy it. Not with comms failures. Not with missing staff. And not with Cole Reardon pacing behind her like a loaded weapon.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe hadn’t expected warmth here—not real warmth. Not the kind that came from a six-foot-two, tactical-grade problem with sharp eyes and an instinct for corruption better than anyone back at HQ.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe especially hadn’t expected to feel it under her skin.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eThe command center hummed softly—servers, heaters, the low industrial thrum under the grates. Wind scraped endlessly across the hull overhead. The entire site felt like a floating graveyard.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eWaiting.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eStorm sat elbows-deep in falsified equipment logs, the monitor’s blue glow reflecting off her glasses. Her fingers flew—timestamps, badge logs, user IDs. Breadcrumbs.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eBehind her, Cole stood too close.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe spoke without looking up. “Two of these personnel signatures were entered from off-site servers.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eHe leaned in just behind her shoulder, close enough that she felt him—not touching, but present. She could feel his barely leashed power and unspeakable control.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“Those servers don’t exist,” he said.\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe arched a brow. “So, we’re blaming ghosts now?”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“Only if your ghost knows how to bypass biometrics and loop footage.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003eShe exhaled through her nose. “Corporate saboteur with a side of hacker.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan style=\"font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', times, serif;\"\u003e“Welcome to the Arctic.”\u003c\u002fspan\u003e\u003c\u002fp\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e \u003c\u002fp\u003e","show_backorder_message":false,"tags":[],"warranty":"","price":{"without_tax":{"formatted":"$2.99","value":2.99,"currency":"USD"},"tax_label":"Tax"},"default_shipping_expectation_prompt":"","detail_messages":"","availability":"","page_title":"Perfect Storm by Maia Dylan","cart_url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fcart.php","show_backorder_availability_prompt":false,"max_purchase_quantity":0,"show_quantity_on_hand":false,"show_default_shipping_expectation_prompt":false,"show_quantity_on_backorder":false,"brand":{"name":"Heat Level 3","url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fbrands\u002fHeat-Level-3.html"},"attributes":[],"mpn":null,"upc":null,"options":[],"related_products":[{"id":1829,"sku":"978-1-77233-946-8","name":"No Impact by Maia Dylan","url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fno-impact-by-maia-dylan\u002f","availability":"","rating":5,"brand":{"name":"Heat Level 3"},"category":["Contemporary","Erotic ","Gay","Military"],"summary":"Sniper Team Bravo, 2\r\nNo impact on the target is the call that a sniper has missed, that their position is now compromised, and the firestorm it can bring could ultimately cost them their lives.\r\n","image":{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f1829\u002f2045\u002fnoimpact1l__79955.1470068020.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Alternative (MM) Military Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 44, 130\n\nISBN: 978-1-77233-946-8 \n\nEditor: Karyn White\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"},"images":[{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f1829\u002f2045\u002fnoimpact1l__79955.1470068020.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Alternative (MM) Military Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 44, 130\n\nISBN: 978-1-77233-946-8 \n\nEditor: Karyn White\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"}],"date_added":"1st Aug 2016","pre_order":false,"show_cart_action":false,"has_options":false,"stock_level":null,"low_stock_level":null,"qty_in_cart":0,"custom_fields":null,"num_reviews":6,"weight":{"formatted":"0.00 LBS","value":0},"demo":false,"add_to_wishlist_url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fwishlist.php?action=add&product_id=1829","price":{"without_tax":{"formatted":"$4.99","value":4.99,"currency":"USD"},"tax_label":"Tax"}},{"id":2533,"sku":"978-1-77339-939-3","name":"A Sense of Guilt by Maia Dylan","url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fa-sense-of-guilt-by-maia-dylan\u002f","availability":"","rating":5,"brand":{"name":"Heat Level 3"},"category":["Romance on the Go","Contemporary","Erotic ","Lawless","Suspense"],"summary":"Carlisi Familia, 3\r\nGuilt—the gift that keeps on giving. Gino Esposito lived with a lot of guilt from his childhood. His father was very clear. Gino was responsible for all the beatings he’d","image":{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f2533\u002f2792\u002fasenseofguilt1l__94872.1554869305.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 15, 050\n\nISBN: 978-1-77339-939-3\n\nEditor: Audrey Bobak\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"},"images":[{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f2533\u002f2792\u002fasenseofguilt1l__94872.1554869305.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 15, 050\n\nISBN: 978-1-77339-939-3\n\nEditor: Audrey Bobak\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"}],"date_added":"10th Apr 2019","pre_order":false,"show_cart_action":false,"has_options":false,"stock_level":null,"low_stock_level":null,"qty_in_cart":0,"custom_fields":null,"num_reviews":3,"weight":{"formatted":"0.00 LBS","value":0},"demo":false,"add_to_wishlist_url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fwishlist.php?action=add&product_id=2533","price":{"without_tax":{"formatted":"$2.99","value":2.99,"currency":"USD"},"tax_label":"Tax"}},{"id":3595,"sku":"978-0-3695-1422-6","name":"Brielle's Fate by Maia Dylan","url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fbrielle-s-fate-by-maia-dylan\u002f","availability":"","rating":5,"brand":{"name":"Heat Level 4"},"category":["Series Fated Ink","Erotic ","Romantasy","Menage","Paranormal","Shifters\u002fVampires"],"summary":"Fated Ink, 3\nBrielle Johnston hadn’t known about nor believed in magic—until it tore her world apart. One strange night at Fated Ink exposes secrets she can’t explain, power","image":{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f3595\u002f3881\u002fbriellesfate1l__85465.1776135630.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Paranormal Menage (MFM) Romance\n\nHeat Level: 4\n\nWord Count: 35, 000\n\nISBN: 978-0-3695-1422-6\n\nEditor: CA Clauson\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"},"images":[{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f3595\u002f3881\u002fbriellesfate1l__85465.1776135630.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Paranormal Menage (MFM) Romance\n\nHeat Level: 4\n\nWord Count: 35, 000\n\nISBN: 978-0-3695-1422-6\n\nEditor: CA Clauson\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"}],"date_added":"13th Apr 2026","pre_order":false,"show_cart_action":false,"has_options":false,"stock_level":null,"low_stock_level":null,"qty_in_cart":0,"custom_fields":[{"id":731,"name":"Series","value":"\u002fseries-fated-ink\u002f"}],"num_reviews":8,"weight":{"formatted":"0.00 LBS","value":0},"demo":false,"add_to_wishlist_url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fwishlist.php?action=add&product_id=3595","price":{"without_tax":{"formatted":"$3.99","value":3.99,"currency":"USD"},"tax_label":"Tax"}},{"id":2087,"sku":"978-1-77339-299-8","name":"Release Point by Maia Dylan","url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002frelease-point-by-maia-dylan\u002f","availability":"","rating":5,"brand":{"name":"Heat Level 3"},"category":["Contemporary","Erotic ","Gay","Military","Suspense"],"summary":"Sniper Team Bravo, 4\r\nSnipers refer to a point where a decision made could change the course of a target's journey, as the release point. When Maddox Devereaux walked away from Glenn Webster six...","image":{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f2087\u002f2323\u002freleasepoint1l__91089.1496114139.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Alternative (MM) Military Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 38, 440\n\nISBN: 978-1-77339-299-8\n\nEditor: Karyn White\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"},"images":[{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f2087\u002f2323\u002freleasepoint1l__91089.1496114139.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Alternative (MM) Military Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 38, 440\n\nISBN: 978-1-77339-299-8\n\nEditor: Karyn White\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"}],"date_added":"29th May 2017","pre_order":false,"show_cart_action":false,"has_options":false,"stock_level":null,"low_stock_level":null,"qty_in_cart":0,"custom_fields":null,"num_reviews":3,"weight":{"formatted":"0.00 LBS","value":0},"demo":false,"add_to_wishlist_url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fwishlist.php?action=add&product_id=2087","price":{"without_tax":{"formatted":"$3.99","value":3.99,"currency":"USD"},"tax_label":"Tax"}},{"id":3499,"sku":"978-0-3695-1300-7","name":"Breaking Contact by Maia Dylan","url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fbreaking-contact-by-maia-dylan\u002f","availability":"","rating":5,"brand":{"name":"Heat Level 3"},"category":["Contemporary","Erotic ","Gay","Military","Suspense","Series Pathfinders"],"summary":"Pathfinders, 1\nAnton Bateman made the ultimate sacrifice to protect the man he loved—faking his own death to shield Blake Graham from a lethal betrayal. Now, three years later, the shad","image":{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f3499\u002f3784\u002fbreakingcontact1l__65559.1762117168.JPG?c=2","alt":"Genre: Erotic Contemporary Gay Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 33, 500\n\nISBN: 978-0-3695-1300-7\n\nEditor: CA Clauson\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"},"images":[{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f3499\u002f3784\u002fbreakingcontact1l__65559.1762117168.JPG?c=2","alt":"Genre: Erotic Contemporary Gay Romance\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 33, 500\n\nISBN: 978-0-3695-1300-7\n\nEditor: CA Clauson\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"}],"date_added":"2nd Nov 2025","pre_order":false,"show_cart_action":false,"has_options":false,"stock_level":null,"low_stock_level":null,"qty_in_cart":0,"custom_fields":[{"id":659,"name":"Series","value":"\u002fseries-pathfinders\u002f"}],"num_reviews":7,"weight":{"formatted":"0.00 LBS","value":0},"demo":false,"add_to_wishlist_url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fwishlist.php?action=add&product_id=3499","price":{"without_tax":{"formatted":"$3.99","value":3.99,"currency":"USD"},"tax_label":"Tax"}}],"shipping_messages":[],"rating":0,"reviews":{"messages":[],"total":0},"bulk_discount_rates":[],"meta_keywords":"","show_quantity_input":0,"title":"Perfect Storm by Maia Dylan","gift_wrapping_available":false,"min_purchase_quantity":0,"customizations":[],"images":[{"data":"https:\u002f\u002fcdn11.bigcommerce.com\u002fs-21532\u002fimages\u002fstencil\u002f{:size}\u002fproducts\u002f3619\u002f3905\u002fperfectstorm1l__32563.1779936061.jpg?c=2","alt":"Genre: Erotic Romantic Suspense\n\nHeat Level: 3\n\nWord Count: 16, 500\n\nISBN: 978-0-3695-0548-4\n\nEditor: CA Clauson\n\nCover Artist: Jay Aheer"}]}
[{"url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002f","name":"Home"},{"url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fcategories\u002fErotic-\u002f","name":"Erotic "},{"url":"https:\u002f\u002fwww.evernightpublishing.com\u002fperfect-storm-by-maia-dylan\u002f","name":"Perfect Storm by Maia Dylan"}]
