But he allowed it.
“What about the team Will mentioned?”
There was a long pause and a sigh. “I think we all know they aren’t you, Elizabeth. I’ll try to convince Will, but . . .”
She knew what Richard was going to say and said it for him. “He won’t budge.”
Richard sighed. “Not likely.” She was silent until Richard added, “Look, Elizabeth, I have to get back. Hang in there.”
Elizabeth felt a sense of dread settling over her. “Okay. Good luck.”
She stewed over it for an hour, then another. Will didn’t call, nor did Richard. Every minute lost pushed FORGE closer to the edge. There was no other way. She couldn’t just stand by and allow Will to lose his company, no matter how angry he’d be with her afterward. She considered, briefly, what the costs of defying Will on this might be, but she knew with a profound conviction that she would not be able to live with herself if she let this happen when she could prevent it. She picked up the phone, opened her contact list, and selected a name.
The phone rang four times before going to voice mail. Elizabeth closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. She felt like banging her head against the wall with frustration but told herself to act like a grown-up and refrained. Why didn’t you just let me help you, Will?
When the beep sounded, she left her message in a flat, hard voice. “This is Dutch. I’m out of fingers.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Richard let out a pained sigh as he lowered himself into a chair in the conference room at FORGE. The technical team the company had on contract was taking up one end of the long table, their laptops out and their faces severe. They were taking the attack on their system personally, and while there had been a successful incursion, they assured the FORGE executive team that nothing had been lost. This claim was verified by Charles Bingley as he and Jenny struggled to remove all relevant data from the compromised drive.
He began to work through the voice mails on his phone, rolling his eyes through most of them. Word had gotten out somehow. He’d have suspected Bingley of leaking the news to the press, but the man had been in the same room with them all night. He’d signed the nondisclosure without batting an eye. He hadn’t even left to use the bathroom.
“Will,” he called, “I need to speak with you.”
His cousin turned to stare at him, and Richard saw exhaustion in his reddened eyes. He stood to walk Will off to a corner.
He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth called earlier. She wanted to know how we were doing.”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “What did you tell her?”
“The truth, Will,” Richard replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “She still wants to come and help.”
“No,” Will said bluntly.
“We may not have a choice, Will,” Richard said, a twinge of urgency in his tone. “He hasn’t gotten any data yet, but the longer this goes on . . .”
“The worse it looks in the press,” Will finished. “Do you think I don’t know that?” He shook his head. “Six years of work. Hard years. Just to be taken down by rumors, gossip.” He was well aware that every additional news cycle made it less likely that FORGE would recover its reputation, and eventually even Darcy Acquisitions might begin to feel some spillover. If the problem was solved quickly, it could be spun to the company’s benefit. FORGE, it would be reported, had survived a brutal cyber-attack without losing any significant data. Any longer, and the story would be that FORGE’s digital security was overwhelmed and couldn’t keep its proprietary information safe. No inventor bringing a product to market or depending on FORGE to secure its patent would ever work with them again.
“Let Elizabeth help.”
Will closed his eyes. “No. She’s worth more to me than FORGE.”
“Have you thought about how she’ll react if you lose FORGE because you wouldn’t let her help?” probed Richard. “This might not be as cut-and-dried as you think.”
Will’s brows contracted as he thought that through. Richard felt hope rising in his chest. But then Will shook his head. “Not yet.” He met Richard’s gaze. “If they haven’t stopped this in another six hours, I’ll give her a call.” He checked his watch. “She doesn’t even get up until nine.” He turned and walked away.
Richard rolled his eyes. “Like she’s sleeping.”
When the sun came up the next morning, Elizabeth was lying on her back with her arms crossed beneath her head. She’d barely slept yet felt the urge to go for a run. A long one. She wanted to call Will, desperately, but didn’t know what to say. Let me help? Already said it. You’re an idiot? Unhelpful. Batboy is there, and I’m here? Childish. In fact, there really was nothing she could say until Will called her. Not that he’d pick the phone up to speak to her anyway. The ball was most definitely in his court.
She understood what Will was doing, even though she vehemently disagreed with his actions. We should save FORGE first, she thought, then worry about the aftermath. The business was made up of Will’s family—it was even in the name. But he and Richard and G—they were a part of her family now. It had been strange, at first, to deal with a family mostly of men when she was used to a family of women, but even the far-too-smooth senator and intense, shadowy Oscar were beginning to grow on her. Yet Will was thwarting her deep need to protect her own, leaving her frustrated and fuming. Be fair, she told herself. He wants to protect you. Even when he’s the one who needs to be protected. I suppose I can empathize.
Still, it was maddening. If she could just get into the guts of the hack, she would have what she needed to track the hacker, he’d turn out to be Wickham, and then the lawyers would take care of the legalities. She’d deal with whatever happened to her between those two events. She’d dealt with worse.
Elizabeth drank two cups of coffee in quick, methodical succession, draining the carafe, rinsing it out and setting it back in its place. The mug was washed in no time. She made herself some oatmeal, drank some water, and returned to her bedroom to put on her trainers. She felt again how humiliating it had been to be sent home. She stopped as she pulled the first shoe on. Will bought you these, she reminded herself, forcing herself to relive the memory of the Mud Run, the day in Bloomfield, the appointment for shoes. He’s doing what he thinks is right. He’s wrong, but he loves you. That’s all this is.
The weather outside was frigid, the sun only barely up, and she made a note to be careful of the ice. There’d been no snow yet, but the mornings were cold enough. She moved at a more leisurely pace than normal so she wouldn’t accidentally lose her footing. As she grew accustomed to the run, she spied a few photographers, but they were keeping their distance. I should pick up a paper this morning, she thought. I hope Kit’s dress made the society page like she wanted. Her attempts to divert her attention were sadly lacking, and she returned home physically invigorated, but no less conflicted. Admit it, Bennet, she said to herself, he just plain hurt your feelings. You aren’t a fragile flower. Get over it.
The sun was bright before she made it back to the apartment, and she took out her key. Will had added another lock to the door, and now, looking at the deadbolt he’d installed, she had to smile a little. Maybe the phone call was a mistake. Maybe I should call back and cancel. She turned the key twice to unlock her door and stepped inside.
Seated like a tiny queen on her overstuffed yellow sofa was a woman whose peroxide blond locks had been dyed black, the spiky style Elizabeth was used to smoothed down into a short, asymmetrical bob. A short black coat was draped over the back of a chair. In her small, elegant hands was a mug from Elizabeth’s kitchen, filled with steaming coffee. Elizabeth leaned back heavily against the door as it clicked shut. Too late.
“Heya, Dutch,” the figure drawled, her hazel eyes darkening to a golden brown. She grinned up at Elizabeth and gestured to the room with her free hand. “Nice place. Sort of a millennial yard sale look. Very you.”
Elizabeth sighed deeply before turning to lock the door behind her. “I’m not even going to ask how you got in here.”
“You called me,” Abby said nonchalantly. “Twice. That’s out of character. You collect chips, you don’t cash ’em.” She sipped her drink. “Something about not needing any help.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Okay, I plead guilty to arrogance.”
Her admission was met with a tinkling laugh. “I assume this has something to do with the FORGE business.”
Elizabeth nodded, unsurprised. “I figured you’d know more than I did by the time you got here. You must not have been too far out in the field. I only called last night.”
Abby pursed her lips and tipped her head to the side. “We’ve been sort of keeping an eye on it, Princess, after that piece of theater you put on at Stanford. I thought if you called, we could ask a favor from you in return.”
Elizabeth ignored the gibe as she felt her heart sink. That’s it, then. There was always a price to pay. She’d known that when she left the message on Abby’s voice mail, but she had rather unreasonably hoped she could avoid it. It’s tough enough dealing with the nightmares I have without adding to them.
“You’ve been acting oddly for some time now,” Abby said with a frown. She held up a tablet with a video of Elizabeth’s performance on the red carpet. “Nice twirl, Cinderella,” she said sardonically, and set it down. She shook her head. “Are you out of your mind?” she asked disbelievingly. “You’re made for better things than this.”
“How fast can we put this down?” Elizabeth asked in a clipped tone. It had to be immediate—two days, tops.
In a misguided attempt to protect her from legal scrutiny, Will had put her on the sidelines, exactly what Wickham must have hoped he’d do. She did understand why Will had done it, but in this instance, Elizabeth knew she was FORGE’s A team. She touched the new lock behind her and hoped Will wouldn’t be too angry. Despite his wishes, she couldn’t stay out of it. Not when she could help. The call had been the right thing to do.
“His current team? They aren’t bad, but a week, ten days to shut it down and account for everything,” Abby said.
Too long.
“Our team?” Abby continued. “I’m willing to bet we can put this beast away by lunchtime.” Abby’s eyes drifted upwards, as they often did when she was thinking things through. “He’s a skiddie. Friends in low places and all. It’s mostly smoke and mirrors, but he does have some good software. It’s buggy, though, and I’m not sure he knows how to use it.” She stretched her short legs out and rested her feet on the coffee table. “The boys may have it wrapped up before we even get back. It’s what I need you to do for us that will take a bit of time.”
Elizabeth sighed. “What is it?”
Abby handed her a copy of the Times that she’d had sitting on the couch next to her. Elizabeth read a headline about the story Richard had mentioned last night, the one about four reporters being taken in Syria. She glanced up, interested.
“Not reporters, then?” she asked quietly.
Abby shrugged. “One’s not. Doesn’t really matter. They’re friendlies, and the money’s good. It’ll just be the four of us—you, me, Arch, and Bob. She smiled. “Like old times.”
“How long?” Elizabeth asked in a voice not much louder than a whisper. How can I leave now? This could take months.
“Can’t say,” Abby replied placidly. “But there’s a hefty bonus if it’s less than a month, and if you’re on board, we’ve got a good shot at it.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Elizabeth said gloomily. “I just want to take care of FORGE and then get back here as fast as possible.”
“You don’t care about the money?” Abby asked skeptically. “Aren’t you the one who wants to be a millionaire before she’s thirty?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or are you just about marrying money now?”
Elizabeth bit back the curse she wanted to send Abby’s way. “You know that’s not true.”
“Really?” Abby inquired. She held up her tablet again.
“My sister’s trying to get her business off the ground,” she replied gruffly. “I was just helping her.”
Abby rose. “We’ll be back as quick as we can so you can get back to your modeling career, Duchess,” she said. “And hopefully, we’ll all be a good bit richer. Deal?”
Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. “I have to make a few calls.”
“Okay,” Abby said, standing. “Pack a bag, say your goodbyes, write your letters if you need to, but they’ll have to be short.” She sniffed. “We’re tight for time.” She stretched, her small body lithe and flexible. “Grab your stuff, leave the cell. You know the drill.”
“I know,” she replied. Get your head in the game, Bennet. You called in the big guns. FORGE will be okay. Will will be okay. Just focus.
“Good,” Abby replied as she touched the screen of her phone. “I’ll make some calls, too.”
Elizabeth hit the speed dial for Will, hoping he’d pick up. It went straight to voice mail and then she heard, “The voice mailbox of the party you are calling is full. Please call back later.” The call was terminated.
“Wiiilll,” she groaned. “So not the time for this.” She thought about texting him, but she couldn’t say goodbye to him in a text. She just couldn’t.
She called Richard’s phone. He wasn’t answering either, but she got his voice mail. She took a breath. What do I say? Then there was a beep, and she had to speak. It came out fast and jumbled. “Richard, it’s Elizabeth. Will’s phone isn’t accepting calls, so tell him I tried—” She stopped and started again. “FORGE will be okay, but I had to call in a favor, and there’s a job I have to do now. I’ll be gone for a while. Tell Will I’m sorry and I love him and I’ll be back. I just don’t know when, exactly. I can’t take my . . .” Her time ran out, and she was disconnected. She closed her eyes. I really needed to hear your voice right now, Will. Please wait for me. She grabbed a pen and some paper and penned a letter, sealed it in an envelope, and wrote Will’s name on the outside. She moved into her bedroom and yanked open a drawer, fumbling under some papers and withdrawing another letter, this one last updated a year ago and addressed to her Uncle Ed. She left them on the kitchen counter.
Abby had disappeared into her bedroom to pack for her. She undoubtedly had a car waiting somewhere.
She dialed Jane’s phone and reached voice mail. This message wasn’t as disjointed, but there wasn’t much she could say, other than she had a job, she’d be out of touch, and she’d be back as soon as she could. Then she bit her lower lip and called her Uncle Ed.
“Ed Gardiner,” he said in his low, booming voice.
“Hey, Uncle Ed,” she replied.
The voice lightened. “Hey yourself. Quite a show you put on last night. Did you see the Gray Lady’s society page this morning? And the Star Ledger called Kit early. They want to do an interview with her.” He laughed delightedly. “It’s a great thing you two did for her, Lizbet.”
Elizabeth drew in her breath to speak, but Uncle Ed kept going. “Lydia was up all night on social media. She’s finally gone to bed.” He kept explaining how the house was at sixes and sevens. It was unlike him to be so gregarious, but she knew nothing animated him like bragging about his wife and kids. Finally, Abby came out of her bedroom with a bag, turned to her, and pointed at the time.
“Uncle Ed?” she asked weakly, trying to get his attention. He seemed to key in to the slight quaver in her voice.
“Elizabeth?” he inquired, suddenly attentive. “What’s wrong?”
“Something happened last night. At the end of the dinner.” Abby raised her eyebrows, and Elizabeth shook her head. “I have to go out on a job for a while. Maybe a month or two. I’m not sure, but I won’t have my phone.”
His voice was low, grim. “Is it Abbot? Can you get out of it?”
She sighed. “No. I called them. A favor. For FORGE.”
He was resolute now, and Elizabeth coul
d tell he would climb through the phone line if it were possible. “Will wouldn’t want a favor like that, Lizzy. You know he wouldn’t. Tell her no.”
“I can’t, Uncle Ed. Talk to Richard—he knows everything that happened last night. He should probably tell his father, too.” Abby was picking up the bag now, trying to get them out the door. “I tried to call Will, but he’s not answering, and his voice mail is full. Just tell him I said goodbye and that I’ll be back, okay?” And I love him.
“Elizabeth,” Uncle Ed was saying, but she interrupted him.
“I love you, Uncle Ed. I’ll see you soon.” It broke her heart to hang up on him, but she did. She tossed the phone on the counter, glanced around the apartment, and followed Abby out the door.
“He doesn’t like me much, does he?” Abby asked, not at all perturbed.
“No,” Elizabeth replied flatly. “I’m not even sure I like you right now.”
Abby just laughed.
Will was quietly but heatedly dressing down FORGE’s cyber-security team’s technical supervisor. He paid them more than the going rate to ensure this precise scenario never happened. Any attack should have been immediately thwarted.
Wanda entered the conference room, two tiny computer keyboard earrings swinging from her earlobes. “Boss,” she said, “there’s an Ed Gardiner in the lobby. Says it’s urgent.”
He stared at her, no longer the least bit tired. “Send him up,” he snapped. He swallowed hard. Why is Ed here? He felt his stomach clench as his brain reached for reasons why Elizabeth’s uncle would be in his lobby. He hadn’t picked up her calls last night or this morning, not wanting to continue the argument. What if that’s not why she called?
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