by Tessa Layne
The impenetrable mask Agent Locke has worn for the last five hours slips. For an aching, awful moment, I see pity in his dark brown eyes. "They're good people, Ms. Fischer," he says softly. That simple mark of respect nearly buckles my knees. And scares the piss out of me. What was I thinking? It was all a game - how far could I push without getting caught? How hard could I poke the beast and still remain anonymous? The reality of what awaits me at every turn bears down on me. I've been here before, but this time, it's entirely my doing.
"I've heard that line before." Instinctively, I rub the place where my tattoo hides under my bracelets, refocusing my mind and drawing strength from it. One thing I've learned is that the fear always passes.
"You'll have a fresh start. You won't get that anywhere else."
Not even in the military, is what he means to say. It's my best option and we both know it.
Stockton bursts out of the door, briefcase in hand, the look of panic on his face turning thunderous as soon as he sees me with Locke. That split second of vulnerability is enough to pull me back from the pit of fear. I retreat behind the wall of cockiness and insolence I've perfected over the years. "Relax. I was just informing Agent Locke that I would be accepting your offer."
His jaw twitches and I can hear the restrained anger in his voice when he speaks. "Good. We have no time to lose." He takes my elbow and a jolt of heat zips up my arm.
"Where are we going?" I ask as he leads me down the corridor.
"Helicopter's waiting outside."
I freeze. "What? No way. I'm not getting in a helicopter. They sink like stones."
The tick in his jaw is going a mile a minute, but it's the way his eyes harden that tells me I've crossed a line. "You are getting on that helicopter even if I have to carry you, do you understand?" His voice is harsh, and it scrapes over me like sandpaper, heating my pussy. I'm tempted to fight him just so he'll pick me up, but behind us, Agent Locke clears his throat.
"Your competition will be here in five minutes. I suggest you leave immediately."
Stockton's mouth sets firmly and he nods. He squeezes my elbow. "Now," he growls, turning and pulling me along.
"Yes, sir," I sass.
He shoots me a glare. "Don't ever call me sir. It's Stockton."
"What about Mr. Forde," I ask breathlessly as he propels me toward the waiting monstrosity. Up close, it's huge. I've never flown before, and now I'm facing the possibility of falling to my death in a whirling explosion of wind and fire.
"Stockton," he answers tersely. "Forde if necessary."
My steps slow. Panic claws at me, overriding reason. "Please, Stockton. Can we drive? I'll do whatever you ask. Just please don't make me get in there." My mouth is dry. I'm not above begging. My heart hammers in my ears.
"Whatever game you're playing, it stops now," he barks, tightening his grip on my arm.
"I'm not," I croak. "Please. I can't go in there." I pull against him, trying to free myself as panic narrows my focus and dots my vision. I can't catch my breath and my knees give out. I hear him curse through a tunnel and am dimly aware of arms wrapping around me before my world goes black.
When I come to, we're flying and I'm lying down wrapped in a blanket, a concerned Stockton leaning over me, with another person hovering behind him. My teeth begin to chatter as the panic surges again.
"Penelope," he says sharply. "Look at me."
"P-P-P-Penny."
Exasperation flashes through eyes I could drown in. They're holding me like a lifeline. "You're safe, Penny. We had to take off, but I promise you're safe."
"She needs something to drink," the person who must be the flight attendant offers. "Let me get some water."
"Stronger," he corrects with a shake of his head, face still pinched with worry.
"But, sir-"
"Do it," he barks.
A hysterical laugh rips through me. "He c-c-called you sir."
"And I'm calling you a brat. Drink this." He hands me a tumbler with barely a fingerful of amber liquid.
I struggle to sit, letting the blanket fall to my waist, and accept the heavy crystal, still too panicked to let my focus widen. My hands shake so much, I'm afraid I'm going to drop the glass. With a sigh I'm sure is born out of pure exasperation, he settles next to me, wrapping a hand around mine. I forget to breathe. His hands are steady and warm. The strength of his grip radiates up my arms.
His voice drops. "Breathe, Penny. We're safe," he soothes with a hypnotic quality to his voice. "We're flying in a Sikorsky S92, the safest helicopter according to the FAA. We have clear skies and little wind. We'll be to Kansas City in a little over an hour."
"Oh god," I moan, dropping my head. I won't make it an hour.
His grip tightens around my hand. "I promise you'll be okay. And I don't make promises lightly. Take a sip. It will help."
"Did you spike it?" Not that I want to be roofied with a perfect stranger, but it might put me out of my misery.
He snorts, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he tells me to drink again.
I take a gulp and sputter, surprised by the burn and the way my throat turns to lava.
"Easy. You're not supposed to drink it like soda pop."
"What is that?" I choke.
"Forty-year scotch."
I wrinkle my nose and hand it back. "Ew. It tastes like old bandaids and menthol."
He drops his head back with a laugh, then shoots me a genuine grin, shaking his head. "What the fuck am I going to do with you, Penny?" He finishes off the glass, then angles his body my way. "Are you okay? You scared the piss outta me back there."
His smile warms my insides, makes my heart beat faster, and not because I'm scared. It's like sun after a late afternoon thunderstorm. And now I get the whole cliché, because Stockton smiling is sexy and warm, and it makes me want to crawl into his lap. I drop my gaze to my hands. "Helicopters... flying really... terrifies me," I confess, fighting the awful memory that's the cause of my unreasonable rationale. I have no business sharing one of my darkest secrets with him, but it feels natural. And I'm too wrung out to keep my shields up. I'm tired and scared and I don't want to be alone in this. I grimace. "I've never... this is my first-" I pause, still stuck in the memory.
"So you're a flying virgin?" he teases gently.
I snort. "Sure. Whatever." I wave a hand. "Yeah. And I have this memory burned into my brain from when I was real little, of a helicopter bursting into flames and crashing to the ground." I shut my eyes, still seeing it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... back there." Another wave of my hand. I suck in a huge breath. "It won't happen again."
He lays a hand on my shoulder. "You won't have to fly again if you don't want to." He holds my gaze a second too long, and I like it far too much.
I drag my eyes away, and instead focus on the butter-soft leather underneath my hand. "How many cows did you sacrifice for this?"
"How many chemical factories did you knock over to get your hair that color?"
His quick retort pulls a snicker from me. I sneak a glance his direction. His mouth is still twitching at the corner. But in a blink of an eye, the hardness returns. "Now that you're feeling better, I want to know what in the hell you meant back there about Steele Conglomerate's breaches not being North Korea."
I gulp, suddenly wishing I could ask for more of the yucky strong stuff. Heat creeps up my face and I let out a shaky breath. I guess I need to come clean with my new boss. "Soooo," I start, stretching out the word, because I'm not used to talking about this in person. I know people, but we all have aliases and we're strictly online. Discussing this with another human face to face feels... illicit. "I started probing your defenses about a week ago."
Stockton goes still, then reaches for his briefcase and pulls out his laptop. "Dare I ask why?" he asks in clipped tones, the softer sexier side of him vanishing.
I remind myself this is why he hired me. I could tell him everything, and I'd still be safe. But he's not a priest and this isn't con
fession, so I shrug, playing it off as no big deal. "I was bored." Truth. I also wanted to put an online asshole in his place.
"You were bored," he repeats flatly. "Tell me, if this is what you do when you're bored, what do you do for fun?"
"Hack the Social Security Department," I say with an impish smile.
His nostrils flare and I catch the barest twitch of a smile. It's enough encouragement that I risk a little more honesty. "It was only supposed to be one time, but your defenses intrigued me, and then you kept changing them."
He hands over his laptop - the one I hacked. "Show me."
"Really?" I don't mean for it to, but my voice rises in anticipation. This is like winning one of Willy Wonka's golden tickets, and I can barely contain myself.
He rolls his eyes. "Yes. Show me how you managed in less than a week to slither past defenses it took a team of us months to build."
Chapter Five
Stockton
Four Years Earlier
By the time we land at the top of Steele Conglomerate in Kansas City, Penny's laid out exactly how vulnerable we are. I'm rattled. And pissed as fuck-all. The cybersquad and I designed our defenses to be impenetrable. Beyond that, I added counteroffensives that could disable entire countries' systems with a wrong keystroke, and she slipped by all of it with the stealth of a night shadow. I'd throttle her if I wasn't so impressed.
But seriously, how can I trust her? And more importantly, how can we get her to assimilate? She's a walking time-bomb. If she were to ever go rogue, she'd either go to the highest bidder, or she'd be an assassination target. No doubt about it.
Harrison's waiting for us at the edge of the helipad. He greets her with a broad smile and an outstretched hand. "You must be Penny. I'm so pleased you've joined us."
She cocks an eyebrow, forgoing his hand. "Really?"
"Hell, yes," he enthuses. "I'm sure you can teach the cybersquad a thing or two."
I hold back a scoff. "Don't tell them that."
Penny's brows pull tight. "Who're they?"
"Stockton's crew. You'll meet them once we've onboarded you."
She grimaces. "That sounds as pleasant as waterboarding."
Harrison is nonplussed. "My assistant Andrew will get your paperwork processed and give you a tour, and then we'll take you down to meet the team."
She slides a glance my way, as if she's looking for reassurance. It pulls at something deep inside me I don't want to examine. I brush off the feeling and her, with a wave of my hand. "Drew will take care of you."
I turn to Harrison as soon as they're out of sight. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
His eyebrows shoot skyward. "Are you? Did you look at her file? She's a genius."
"First of all, she is a girl. Where in the hell are we going to put her? She can't live with the squad. Second of all," I tick off, "she is the one responsible for this week's security breaches."
"Really?" Harrison grins. "I fucking love it."
"Seriously? You fucking love it?" My neck heats. "Do you understand she could bring all this crashing down from the inside if she decides?"
"Then it's up to you to keep her happy."
The amusement in his eyes just pisses me off. "She's a kid, Harrison. A kid."
"With a helluva lot of potential. So don't fuck this up."
"So you're saying I'm going to be her minder?"
Harrison's eyes narrow. "You're sounding dangerously close to a sexist asshole. If this was a nineteen-year-old dude, you'd have no problem taking him under your wing. You'd be salivating at the chance to help mold a brilliant young mind. You'd have him working right next to you learning the company from the inside out. What gives?"
What gives is that I have a boner for her brain. But there's no way I'll ever let my best friend know that. I'm twelve years her senior which makes me a dirty old man. "What gives is that our program works because the newcomers live with the veterans, and they're assimilated into the tribe. But we can't let a nineteen-year-old girl live with a house full of guys ten years her senior."
"You're right, and I've got Andrew working on that. But that means you're going to have to take on that role with her. If she's invested in you, in the team, she'll flourish. You've seen her history. She'll stay if we become her family. Think of her like Maureen."
I fight back a sigh. Harrison's right. I need to pull my brain out of my pants and treat her like she's just another one of the guys. Or like Harrison's kid sister. Maureen is just as smart as he is, and we begged her to come work for us. She interned with me her senior year in college, but fell in love with a winemaker and decided to use her tech skill to improve winemaking. But as smart as Maureen is, Penny dances circles around her, which apparently, is my kryptonite.
Two hours later, Andrew returns Penny to the C-floor. She's got that same glazed look most new employees get when they see the vast reach of Steele Conglomerate. I remind myself her day didn't start that easily, either. "Have you eaten?" I ask, taking pity on her. The way her eyes go a little wild, I know she hasn't. And who knows when was the last time she ate a square meal? "C'mon, let's go." I pop my head inside Harrison's office, across the hall. "Lunch?"
He's on the phone and shakes his head, waving us along. The ride down to the parking garage is quiet, as is the drive into KCK to my favorite out-of-the-way spot for a quiet business lunch, a little Mexican place called Jarocho.
"So. Any questions," I ask once we've put in our order.
"Yeah. Where'm I gonna sleep?"
"Andrew's working on that. We're not really set up for female developers in our cyber program."
"You mean you've never caught a female hacker before?" She leans forward. "We're unicorns," she says in a stage whisper.
"As long as you can do the job, I don't care what you are."
"Good to know. So you'll have no problem when I tell you that I have no intention of following your dress code."
Shit. I walked right into that. "And why not?"
"Because it's sexist and my clothes have nothing to do with my brain."
"But if your clothing is a distraction to your colleagues."
"Also sexist. My colleagues should be able to control their erections."
Jeezus. I need a fucking drink for this conversation. "The dress code is in place for everyone as a professional standard. People who dress better behave better."
She narrows her eyes. "People who dress better behave just as badly, but don't get punished as much."
"And you know this how?"
She crunches on a chip. "You've read my file. Figure it out, genius."
"So you have direct experience with this, then?"
"You're knocking it out of the ballpark with your observations, there. I'm impressed."
Clearly she's not. She crunches on another corn chip then worries her lip ring with her tongue. I can't look away. I clear my throat. "I don't care what your experience may have been elsewhere, but bad behavior of any kind is not tolerated and will be expressly punished."
Her eyes light and she smirks. "Ooh what kind of punishment? Writing on the blackboard? Whips and belts?" She drops her chin into her hands. "So... do I get punished for breaching your firewall?"
I fist my hand against my thigh. "What you need is a goddamned spanking," I thunder, perilously close to completely losing my shit.
"I'm pretty sure threatening a new employee constitutes bad behavior... Sir," she taunts mercilessly.
"That's it," I bellow, rising. "We are not staying here another second."
"But I'm hung-"
"You should have thought about that before you went Operation Smartmouth." I toss a Ben on the table, not missing how her eyes go wide. The girl must have been living on the edge of ruin this whole time. "Go wait in the car," I growl. "Now," I bark, pointing through the window to where I parked. I don't wait to see if she goes. I march straight to the hostess and let them know I'll be sending my driver Edward to pick up our meal in the next twenty minutes.
Penny's leaning against the trunk when I come outside, arms folded, mouth pulled down in a perfect half-moon. "Don't pout," I snap. "It's unbecoming." I know I'm being a beast, but at the moment, I don't care. She's pushed me beyond my limits. I stew the entire drive back. When I pull into the parking garage, I cut the engine and turn to her. "Let's get a few things straight, sweetheart."
That instantly ruffles her feathers. "I'm not-"
"Ah-ah," I say raising a finger and cutting her off. "I don't care how brilliant that pretty little brain of yours is - you don't run the roost. Understood?"
She glares at me.
"Understood?" I say more sharply.
She nods.
"You're getting a second chance here, and the biggest opportunity of your life, so don't blow it. Understood?"
Her gaze casts down and she nods. "Yes, sir," she mumbles. This time she's not taunting.
"Edward is picking up your food. You may go sit and wait for it in Mr. Steele's office with his assistant Andrew. Understood?"
She nods once.
"Andrew should have your living arrangements sorted out as well. You are to report here no later than nine a.m. on the dot tomorrow morning. Understood?"
She nods again.
"And you will arrive wearing appropriate clothing for work, and no lip ring. Or I will remove it myself. Understood?"
She glares at me before nodding.
I smile at her, but it doesn't come close to reaching my eyes. "Good."
I exit the car, slamming the door behind me, not bothering to see if she follows. I take the stairs all the way up to the C-floor, arriving hot and sweaty. But at least my fucking boner is finally under control.
Chapter Six
Stockton
Present Day
I knock on Penny's door precisely at six-thirty, unsure of how I'll be greeted. I half expect her to be in her standard black skinny jeans and black tee, giving me her best impression of Wednesday Addams, scowl and all. So I'm stunned when she opens the door wearing what at first glance appears to be a demure three-quarter sleeve black lace overlay dress that screams 1950's. Except for the plunging neckline underneath the lace that clearly reveals she's not wearing a bra. The skirt flares out over her hips and stops three inches above her knees. Hot pink patent leather stiletto boots rise to just below her knees. I'm hit by the scent of her perfume, stronger than this morning - it's heady and dirty, and sends my thoughts straight to the gutter.