Strike Back

by Marliss Melton

  Ding! Hilary’s heart leaped as Messenger notified her of someone attempting to chat. Stu? No. Disappointment pinched her. Just Elias. He’d accepted her friend request and promptly sent her a message.

  Hi, Hilary. Is your friend there yet?

  Concerned he’d be knocking on her door if she didn’t lie, she typed back: Hi. No, but she’ll be here any minute. What about you? Don’t you have plans? It was Friday night.

  Not yet.

  His reply seemed to hint that could change depending on her.

  She heaved a heavy sigh. You’ve got a lot of friends on FB. Maybe you could hit up one of them.

  I’m a people person.

  He’d completely ignored her suggestion.

  Hey, you want to do something fun tomorrow? he asked before she thought of what to type back.

  Like what? In truth, she wanted to stop this conversation with Elias so she could focus on what to say to Stu in a message.

  There’s a Federal Identity Forum & Exposition at the Homeland Security Conference in downtown D.C. Want to go?

  The Expo was right up her alley. She had seen a flyer at work advertising the array of exhibits from encryption to facial recognition to cybersecurity solutions and biometric authentication, and she’d been thinking of going by herself. Might as well have company.

  Sure, she typed. A work-related outing wouldn’t count as a date because she couldn’t even think about dating Elias if Stu was still an option.

  For the next few minutes, they went back and forth on the best way to get downtown, then settled on taking the metro. Hilary would knock on Elias’s apartment door at 11 a.m. Then they’d drive to the nearest metro station, leaving the car there.

  Oh, my friend’s here now, she added, suddenly ready to end their back-and-forth.

  Uh, okay. See you tomorrow, Elias replied.

  She went straight to messaging Stu. Are you there? Her heart beat at the base of her throat as she waited for an answer.

  Always.

  That single word of devotion utterly melted her. Then she considered what he’d probably meant—that he was always on his laptop.

  How’ve you been? she dared to ask.

  It took him an inordinately long time to write back. So-so. You?

  Might as well be honest, she thought with a shrug. Terrible.

  Her eyes widened at the full sentence that came from him next. I’m going to be working up in D.C. the first part of next week.

  Oh, my God. He was going to be close to her, instead of four hours away in Virginia Beach.

  Without hesitating, without thinking of how much it would hurt when he turned her down, she typed: Can we meet? Her mouth turned dry as she waited to be rebuffed again.

  And waited. And waited.

  At last he typed back, OK.

  The one little word had her closing her eyes in relief. When? Where? Afraid to say too much, she kept her questions to a minimum.

  I’ll send you a message on Sunday when I know my schedule better.

  Anxiety gripped her. What if he changed his mind in the next thirty-six hours? She’d be devastated all over again, but she didn’t dare to push for commitment. Even so, she could let him know she was going to be waiting.

  Don’t forget, she typed, glad he couldn’t discern the pleading tone she would use if she’d said the words aloud.

  I won’t.

  She bit her lower lip to keep her chin from wobbling. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the words she typed. Again, she might as well be honest: Can’t wait to see you.

  Trembling with hope, she waited for him to say Me neither. Instead, he went quiet. The sound of her own breath, flowing quickly in and out of her lungs was all she heard, besides the purring of her cat. Hoping she hadn’t scared him off by coming on too strong, she heaved a deep, anguished sigh. At least he had said that he wouldn’t forget.

  One thing she knew for sure about Stu, his word was his bond. That damned honorable bond had destroyed them the last time.

  Now she had a way to contact him, she realized.

  With a small, hopeful smile, she put aside her laptop and got up to make dinner.

  Chapter Three

  “Oh, crap, I forgot my access card,” Elias lamented, even as he patted down his pockets for his government ID. They stood in a fast-moving line for their ticket into the exhibit hall.

  Hilary’s gaze swung to the cost of admission, posted on the large placard hanging by the ticket window.

  “Anyone who’s not a student or a government employee has to pay $150!” she relayed with dismay.

  “Wait, students are free?” Elias’s grin brought a dimple out of his goatee. He whipped out a laminated card and showed it to her. “Look what I still have.”

  On their metro ride into D.C. that morning, he’d proven to be a cheerful and charming companion. Getting through the day so tomorrow would come faster wouldn’t be so difficult, Hilary had realized, grateful for the distraction.

  Peering dubiously at the photo on Elias’s ID from MIT, she wondered, “You think that’s still valid?” He looked like a kid without the beard.

  “I don’t think they’ll check,” he said on a confident whisper.

  Sure enough, the person doling out tickets glanced only cursorily at their IDs before handing over two passes. With a conspiring wink, Elias escorted her past the trio of security guards and into the convention center.

  A buzz of intellectual excitement filled the enormous indoor arena. The entire space had been partitioned into grids to accommodate the many exhibits. Colorful banners advertised state-of-the-art iris recognition, mobile solutions, and voice verification. Earnest-faced individuals milled before the displays. Hilary’s gaze went straight to a head of prematurely silver hair.

  “Oh, there’s my boss,” she said. In lieu of his usual suit, Isaac Calhoun wore a flannel shirt and carried a baby resting on his left shoulder.

  “Who? Where?” Elias asked, and she pointed Calhoun out to him.

  His eyebrows rose with interest. “You’ll have to tell me about him later.” He turned his attention eagerly to the displays. “Where should we start?”

  She gestured to the nearest booth. “How about here? Then we’ll move clockwise,” she suggested.

  “Works for me.”

  As they bellied up to the first table, Elias reached for Hilary’s hand. At the feel of his warm fingers encasing hers, her nerves jangled. While it wasn’t at all unpleasant, it was unfamiliar. She immediately thought of Stu and, by the second booth, pretending to reach for something, she managed to free herself without rebuffing Elias entirely.

  To her relief, he didn’t try holding her hand again. They moved on, chatting amiably about the options on display and their potential applications.

  Minutes later, they rounded the end of the first aisle, and Hilary’s gaze snagged on the dark headed man standing several inches above anyone around him. Poignant desire lanced her as she thought of Stu again. Then the man turned in her direction, and the air in her throat reversed direction. My, God, it was Stu!

  He was here. At the Expo!

  She must have swayed in shock because Elias grabbed her arm.

  “You okay?”

  Just then, Stu started toward them. Her gaze locked with his, and his stride faltered. Delayed recognition—after all, her hair was no longer ruby red—gave way to an expressionless mask as he noted her arm in Elias’s grasp.

  Pulling her elbow free, Hilary deliberately closed the space between them. With a helpless smile, she soaked in the sight of him. Had he always been so tall, so broad, so striking?

  “Stu,” she exclaimed, “you’re here at the Expo. I didn’t know you’d be here. I mean, how could I know you’d be here?” She wanted to tear her arm off and stuff it in her own mouth to stop from talking. Instead, she finally clamped her lips closed.

  Saying nothing in response, his gaze seemed to catalogue her many transformations.

  “Yeah, I look different, huh?” She lifted a
hand to her golden-brown curls.

  Still, Stu didn’t answer. His gaze shifted to encompass Elias, who had joined them, and she added, “This is Elias Malki, my neighbor.”

  It’s not a date, she wanted to add, but Elias might take offense.

  “How are you?” Elias jutted out a hand and beamed at Stu, who hesitated, then clasped his hand briefly.

  “Elias, this is Stuart Rudolph. He’s uh—” she cut herself off recalling it wasn’t wise to reveal Stu’s actual occupation as a SEAL.

  “Ghost Security Group,” Stu murmured his first words into the silence.

  Wait, what?

  Elias’s mouth popped open. “No shit.” His eyes rounded as he looked Stu up and down. “I always pictured those guys as out-of-shape Millennials—like me,” he added with a self-deprecating chuckle and a pat on his slight paunch.

  “You’re not out of shape,” Hilary said to fill a second awkward silence. Out the corner of her eye she considered Stu, wondering if he’d made up a lie on the fly to cover up what he really did.

  “Well, thanks.” Elias elbowed her in a familiar manner.

  I’m not with him. She wished she could just say the words out loud. Stu was staring at them hard. She would message him as soon as she slipped into the restroom, she decided.

  All at once a lovely brunette, older than any of them but in remarkable shape, appeared at Stu’s elbow. Jealousy nipped at Hilary as the woman’s cool green eyes drifted over her before she spared both her and Elias a curt nod.

  “Shall we go?” she said to Stu brusquely.

  “Yeah.” Tearing his gaze from Hilary, Stu started turning away.

  Not even a word of goodbye after all this time? She knew she should be hurt and angry at his treatment of her, but there was still the promise of tomorrow. He’d said he’d contact her on Sunday.

  “I’ll see you,” Hilary called out, wishing she hadn’t sounded like a desperate schoolgirl.

  With the barest nod of acknowledgment, he walked off with Madam Fitness. The woman’s long, chocolate brown ponytail swished behind her like a horse’s well-groomed tail as they rapidly retreated.

  What the hell was that about?

  Out of her peripheral vision, Hilary could tell Elias was staring at her. “Wow, you know a Ghost.” He sounded thoroughly impressed.

  Hilary had never heard that term before. “Not that well,” she said with a careless shrug. Not nearly as badly as I want to know him, she added silently.

  “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Her breezy tone hinted for him to drop the subject. But he didn’t.

  “You’re going to see him again?”

  “Who knows.” Not if Stu forgot to message her tomorrow.

  “Like, personally, or…?”

  Turning her head, she sent Elias a pointed smile. “Who knows?” she repeated.

  He finally got the hint to mind his own business.

  “Look,” he said, pretending interest in the display on signature verification software. “Let’s check this out.”

  Chapter Four

  Entering his hotel suite, Stu set the chain then went straight to the desk, pulling his laptop from his backpack.

  Hilary—her face, her hair, her smile, her eyes, her essence—popped into his head as it had done a million times since running into her earlier. Blinking, he ran a hand over his tired eyes and tried to focus.

  His meeting with the director of Ghost Security Group had lasted well into the evening. As he’d sat across from the man, he’d found himself thinking about the comment made by Hilary’s friend at the Expo. I always pictured those guys as out-of-shape Millennials—like me.

  Elias Malki’s comment hadn’t been that far off the mark. GSG’s director was a Brit with a potbelly and facial hair, and he wasn’t a day older than Stu.

  Their meeting had touched on GSG’s objectives: Get as many Islamic State social media accounts taken offline as possible; report accounts and links owned by ISIL to service providers; and share data identifying accounts and servers with the analyst who contributed to the Congressional Task Force on Terrorism and Unconventional Warfare. That analyst was Lucy Atwater, the woman who’d accompanied Stu to the Expo. She also worked for the CIA, and her husband was a former SEAL.

  No technology had been permitted in the space where they’d met, so Stu had memorized what he needed to know. He would lose an extra hour of sleep right now typing up details and directives he didn’t want to forget.

  Before he did that, though, he wanted to know more about Elias Malki. Hilary had sent him a message via Facebook that Elias was her neighbor, not a date. Given the way she used to throw herself at strangers, Stu wasn’t sure he quite believed her. How convenient to have a lover living right there in the same building as her, rather than hours away.

  Jealousy had gnawed at him all day.

  While accessing a secure server, Stu pictured again how Hilary had looked at the Expo. His stomach lurched like it did on a turbulent helo ride. Had she always been so lovely?

  In lieu of short, red hair, a tumble of golden brown curls framed her face, making her eyes look even bigger behind the lenses of her glasses. Instead of some brightly colored outfit, she’d worn jeans and a pale pink sweater that matched the bloom in her cheeks. The embroidered flowers on her ankle boots were her only visible accessory—no more dazzling rings or gaudy earrings.

  In fact, she had looked so normal and cute that he’d nearly looked past her without recognizing her. And then the realization of who was standing there looking at him had hit him like an IED exploding right under his feet.

  The experience had jolted him, he had to admit. The sight of her after all these months had certainly set back his social skills about ten years, as he recalled how little he’d said. Then he’d had an epiphany.

  Maybe, with her change from glitter girl to a more pedantic version, a guy like him stood a chance with her.

  The way she’d dressed before—all bright and garish, dripping with costume jewelry—he had never been able to picture himself with her. That was on him. Though when they were alone, it had been all about their intense connection. How she’d dressed hadn’t mattered. He would never have suggested she change herself, but since she already had, if he was honest, the way she looked today . . . yeah, she was more approachable, more on his level. But he might be too late. Her sweet, simple looks would attract any number of guys, and Elias Malki might have stolen her away already. She might have Facebook messaged Stu just to make him feel better about meeting his replacement.

  Elias Malki. An unusual name. Why did it sound so familiar? Stu was certain he had seen or heard it somewhere.

  Inputting the name into a Google search, he studied the results—student publications and a Facebook profile. Stu opened the latter through his own Facebook account then blinked in surprise at the checked FRIENDS box. What the hell?

  He—or, rather, Oscar Atta—and Elias Malki were friends already. No wonder that name sounded so familiar.

  Stu went to check if they had any friends in common—and, yes, they did: Sayid Zafrani, Tarek Haik, and Hilary Alcorn.

  Holy shit. Sitting forward, Stu stared at the avatars of the two men first. Both were well known to Ghost Security Group as suspected ISIL supporters living in Chicago. Seeing Hilary’s name listed under theirs literally tied Stu’s stomach into knots. Why the hell was a friend of Hilary’s also friends with those two men?

  A reasonable explanation sprang to mind. Maybe Elias was a terrorist hunter like Stu. He could be working for the FBI or something.

  The only other explanation drove needles of alarm into Stu’s scalp. Elias might also be a proponent for the Islamic State. After all, the greatest threat to US security came from insiders, especially ones like this guy, highly educated with ties to the Middle East.

  Tearing through Elias’s profile, Stu searched for clues suggesting the man’s allegiance. He had dozens of friends with exotic surnam
es. Most of them, Stu determined, were young and living in Ohio. Most of them had attended MIT like Elias had.

  Stu sat back in his chair and frowned. Now Hilary was a common friend. By sending her a friend request, Stu had unwittingly pulled her into his shadowy underworld.

  There was only one sure way to keep her out of it. Returning to his own profile, he accessed his list of friends and promptly unfriended her.

  No harm, no foul, he assured himself. The only way Elias Malki would have noticed Hilary was once friends with Oscar Atta was if he’d been on Facebook in the last twenty-four hours and monitored who Oscar’s friends were.

  Not likely, right?

  Hilary was safer this way, Stu assured himself. Yet he was left feeling keenly isolated, knowing Hilary couldn’t chat with him via Messenger anymore.

  No worries. Tomorrow, he would call her directly, thus giving her his new phone number. After that, they could text whenever they wanted. He was ready for that. Seeing her today had given him that push he needed to reopen their lines of communication. If only he could shake the worry that he’d lost her to another man.

  Chapter Five

  “So, how do you know Oscar Atta?”

  The unexpected question, volleyed across the small table between them, wrested Hilary’s attention from the couple bickering next to them. She met Elias’s intent regard with a blank expression, thoughts shifting into warp speed as she analyzed his inquiry.

  In a bid to buy more time, she picked up the Cosmo cocktail she had just ordered and took a slow sip.

  In lieu of going home after the Expo, Elias had talked her into touring a museum then catching dinner afterward. Then, coincidentally, he’d chosen a trendy restaurant in Chinatown, right next to the hole-in-the-wall restaurant she and Stu had visited six months before.

  Elias’s question had thrown her off balance. How did he even know Oscar Atta’s name?