Dangerous To Love

by Toni Anderson, Barbara Freethy, Dee Davis, Leslie A. Kelly, Cynthia Eden, J. Kenner, Meli Raine, Gwen Hernandez, Pamela Clare, Rachel Grant

  As if they weren’t enough to worry about.

  Less than twenty yards away, Tara parked a noisy brown Celica with dents that dated back to Bill Clinton’s presidency in the fire lane in front of the entrance. Magnetic signs on the car’s side doors read DELIA’S CATERING, and a gray plastic cover obscured the license plate.

  Valerie had no idea how she had procured the signs on such short notice.

  Tara exited the car dressed in black chinos, tennies, and a thick jacket with a red scarf around her neck. Her sleek hair was mostly hidden under a baseball cap that would block her face from the surveillance cameras, and black eyeliner had been applied with a heavy hand, making her look somewhere between sixteen and twenty.

  She jogged across the concrete pad and rapped on the glass. On weekends and holidays, an employee badge was required just to open the doors.

  Garth’s deep, jovial voice carried to Valerie’s hiding spot. “You lost?”

  “No, I have a delivery. Thanksgiving dinner for you guys from—” Tara squinted at a clipboard “—Meseret? Did I say that right?”

  “Uh, yeah.” He sounded surprised and maybe a bit wary. “Seriously?”

  “There’s a message,” Tara said as she flipped to another page on her clipboard and angled it to see in the light. She was good at this. “Thanks for working on your holiday. We appreciate you.” Her high-pitched voice telegraphed casual boredom. “From Duncan Hollowell and everyone at Aggressor.”

  “Huh. Hey, Rog. Mr. H’s secretary sent us a turkey dinner.”

  Roger’s reply was muffled, but sounded positive.

  “There’s a ton of food,” Tara called through the doorway with a thousand-watt smile. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  In the bright light coming from inside, Valerie could see Tara’s gaze track Roger’s movement toward the elevators. Perfect. He was going on rounds now and would be gone for about fifteen minutes. Valerie and Scott had watched the guards through the plate-glass front window for hours earlier in the day to verify that their routine hadn’t changed since she worked there. The men were pretty consistent.

  Now the tricky part.

  “Hang on,” Tara said to Garth. “I’ll get your stuff.”

  She returned to the car and tossed the clipboard onto the front seat. With the turn of a key, she opened the hatchback and withdrew a foil-covered metal tray, one of several she’d promised to return to the catering company on behalf of the women’s shelter. Instead, she was going to have to replace them.

  Steam rose above the tray, thick like smoke in the cold air. Garth had stepped outside to hold the door for her. He looked around, resting his other hand on the gun at his hip, his body rigid with alertness—and probably from the cold, since he wore no jacket.

  Tara executed the fall so beautifully that even Valerie didn’t see it coming, and she’d been waiting for it.

  “Oof,” Tara uttered as she landed on her hands and knees on the concrete. The metal tray lay upside down a couple feet in front of her, oozing a beige goop. “Oh, shit,” she said, her voice shaky and tearful.

  Damn, she was good. Valerie couldn’t have done it better herself.

  Garth released the door and rushed to Tara’s side. “Are you okay?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  With the guard’s focus on Tara, Valerie dashed toward the door, grabbing it just before it shut, and slipped inside the warm lobby. The camera would capture her, but by the time anyone realized what she’d done, she’d be long gone. After that, it wouldn’t matter.

  Assuming all went to plan.

  “I ruined your potatoes. I’m so sor—” Tara’s voice was cut off when the door shut.

  Heat blasted from an overhead vent as Valerie raced toward the turnstile and used the cabinets on either side of the entrance to vault her legs over the retractable gates and hit the ground running. She didn’t break her stride until she reached the stairwell at the end of the hall.

  Once inside, she held the door until it closed, forcing it to shut slowly and quietly. Then she hauled ass to the first landing beyond the second floor and pressed herself flat to the wall out of sight. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest, and her breath was loud as a buzz saw in the echoey chamber.

  Holy shit, I’m in! Her knees turned to jelly, and she sat hard on the lowest step, holding her arms above her head like a runner after a race in an attempt to slow her breathing.

  Within minutes, the access door below her opened and heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Valerie held still, certain that her pulse would give her away like in that Poe story she’d read in high school.

  “Second floor,” Roger muttered. The first-floor door clicked shut.

  “Copy,” Greg said, his voice tinny through the radio. “I’m out front. The delivery girl tripped and fell. The potatoes are down.”

  Roger grunted in what could have been irritation or amusement. “Stay alert. I’ll make this a quick run.”

  “Will do.”

  The second-floor door opened with a soft swoosh and a click from the auto-close mechanism, and then shut a few seconds later with a clang.

  Valerie exhaled hard, her limbs shaky, and started counting the seconds on her watch as the large hand stuttered in a circle. Now came the hard part. She and Scott hadn’t been able to reconnoiter the guard’s inside routine, so she had to make an educated guess and hope her luck held out.

  After a minute, she descended the half flight of stairs and took a deep breath before carefully turning the handle and opening the door just enough to see through the crack.

  The long corridor led to the accounting department’s offices on one side, and the computer operators and hackers’ desks on the other. Her stomach was tied into knots, and she forced herself to focus so she wouldn’t hyperventilate.

  Two minutes later, Roger exited the doorway on her right and ambled across the hall. Without looking her way, he entered the accounting section. Perfect.

  She opened the door just enough to slip through and pressed her foot and hands against it until it closed with a soft thud. Not waiting to see if Roger noticed, she sprinted along the corridor, running on her toes for maximum quiet, and veered into the computer room.

  A camera overhead was trained directly at the doorway. She could only hope Tara had managed to keep Garth distracted long enough that he wouldn’t see her on his monitor.

  Valerie’s body was in a steady state of hyper vigilance, heart running on overdrive, limbs shaky. She usually controlled her nerves better, but the stakes had never been so high before. If she were caught…

  Shaking off the fear, she ducked to the right and circumnavigated the outer ring of cubicles that blocked the Fish Bowl and Harry’s workstation from view. She’d stashed the USB drive just outside the Fish Bowl, hoping that even if Duncan had every desk in the building searched, he’d never look inside the cubicle wall.

  Coming around the far side, she emerged behind and to the left of Harry, her steps silent on the tan Berber carpet. She avoided getting directly behind him so he wouldn’t catch sight of her reflection in his monitor.

  The graying operator bobbed his head in time to the music that must be coming through his headphones, lazily moving his mouse in small gestures as colorful tiles dropped from the top of the screen. Since computer operators were mainly there to monitor systems and handle issues, the job could be slow. They were allowed to surf the Internet as long as they didn’t visit porn or other inappropriate sites.

  Keeping him in her peripheral vision, Valerie moved into the cubicle where she’d hidden the drive and pried the cap off the fabric screen’s metal support. The small USB device was taped to the inside of the tube, right where she’d left it.

  Relief made her tremble. Don’t let down your guard yet.

  Tucking the drive into the back pocket of her jeans, she pressed the cap into place and peeked around the corner. Harry sat, oblivious, tapping his foot on the base of his rolling desk chair.

&
nbsp; She closed her eyes for a split second, and then reopened them and crept around the corner, briefly visible if the computer operator turned around. Within seconds, she was shielded from view and racing back toward the stairs.

  Now all she had to do was get out of the building.

  Sitting on the sidelines while Valerie entered Aggressor was one of the hardest things Scott had ever done. Once she was inside, so many things could go wrong and he wouldn’t be there to help. What if the other guard caught her? Or the computer operator on duty?

  Breathe. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worked overwatch on missions before. That had been his fucking job. But this time he was unarmed. If things went sideways, he couldn’t just take out the threat.

  Then again, he didn’t want to shoot Garth or Roger. The guys were innocent in all of this.

  Visible through Scott’s high-powered binoculars, Tara continued her charade by enlisting Garth’s help to carry the remaining trays inside the building. She had executed the plan perfectly, and the guard had fallen for it. Scott wouldn’t hesitate to tell that to Kurt on her behalf. He owed her big time, for this and everything else she’d done to help him and Valerie.

  Now, she needed to get the hell out of there.

  He glanced at his watch. The roving guard should be back within the next three minutes. Scott would text Valerie when Tara was gone. Until then, Valerie had to hide out at the bottom of the stairwell on the first floor, in a small space under the stairs.

  From that vantage point she’d be able to hear the guard return to the main lobby, and she’d have easy access to the emergency exit.

  Tara returned to her car, limping slightly—hopefully she was faking the injury—and drove away. Breathing a sigh of relief, Scott sent the text and drove the gray Accord around the edge of the parking lot, slowly approaching the building from the right side. If he arrived too soon, the guards would notice him on the perimeter cameras. Too late, and Valerie would be exposed with the alarm blaring.

  He kept the car to a crawl along the front of the building, his phone glowing blue in the dark as he kept his head down. Assuming the guards were paying attention to the cameras rather than the food, he tried to look like a lost man consulting his GPS.

  He stopped and unlocked the car doors, still staring at his phone as if nothing were amiss.

  Valerie burst from the door followed by an ear-shattering wail.

  The siren intensified as she opened the passenger door and jumped inside. As soon as her door shut, Scott whipped a U and stomped on the gas.

  “Did you get it?” he asked, fishtailing as he turned onto the main road and aimed for the on-ramp to Highway 28.

  She laughed, sounding a little bit hysterical, and patted her hip. “Got it.”

  Traffic was light, even on the Dulles toll road, and they made it back to Dan’s apartment in Falls Church in less than half an hour. Scott made sure Valerie got into the apartment safely, and then drove the car to a crowded street about two miles away, left the keys in the ignition, and limp-walked back to the apartment, his injured leg throbbing the whole way.

  The crisp air burned his lungs, and he pushed through the pain, driving out the chronic frustration and anger of the last few days in his eagerness to return to Valerie.

  How, in the middle of the biggest goatfuck of his life, had he met the perfect woman?

  His smile came unbidden and he breathed easier, pushing himself to move faster under the golden lamplight. All around him, families sat in their living rooms, celebrating their love for each other, sharing their gratitude.

  Scott wanted that with Valerie.

  After circling the apartment building to check for surveillance, he entered 9D and locked the door behind him still breathing hard.

  Her computer sat on the breakfast bar, its screen dark under the fluorescent kitchen lights, but she wasn’t in any of the front rooms. His gut tingled in alarm. “Valerie?”

  No answer.

  He bolted to the dark bedroom where he found her curled in a ball in the far corner, staring at the floor.

  “Hey.” He crouched in front of her, painfully aware of how sweaty he was. “What’s wrong?” he asked, dread etching his insides.

  “The emails are gone.”

  “What do you mean they’re gone?” Scott’s voice was level but grave.

  God, how could she have been such a fool? Her enemy was smart. Apparently, smarter than her. She had failed herself, and worse, she’d failed Scott. “I’m sorry. The drive was completely overwritten with duplicates of a single image file.”

  She cringed and shook her head.

  “What?” he prompted.

  Staring at her hands, she said, “It was a grainy picture of me ‘loitering’ in front of the cubicle where I hid the flash drive. Duncan must have had someone review the security tapes after I ran.”

  “Or maybe he had someone watching you on the inside too.”

  Nausea climbed her throat. “I should have guessed he’d find the drive, but I assumed if he did, he’d take it. When I popped the cap and found it there, taped inside, just as I’d left it…”

  Scott took one of her hands and then tipped her chin up so she had to look at him. “Don’t get angry at me for not throwing shit, okay?” He flashed a weak smile and her heart lifted an inch.

  If she was thankful for anything on this day—on every day—it was him. She squeezed his fingers in gratitude.

  “I’m completely knocked back by this,” he said, “but we knew it was a possibility. We just have to regroup and figure out something else.”

  “I know.” She nodded. “I just wanted this to be it,” she said, balling her hands into fists and holding them up to her face. “I typically have endless patience for this kind of thing. It’s not unusual to spend months working every angle to hack a client. I am relentless. Relentlessly curious and driven by the need to solve the puzzle. But my life never depended on the outcome before. I’m so… I’m tired.” Of running and hiding and waiting and hoping and failing.

  He smoothed back the hair near her face and stroked her cheek. “Me too, baby.” His kiss was a too-quick brush of the lips. “But together we’ll beat Hollowell. Maybe not today, but we will win.”

  She had foolishly pinned all her hopes on the emails, knowing the risk and not wanting to face failure. But Scott was right. There were other options—longer options that meant more time as fugitives—but they weren’t dead in the water. Still, who could blame her for wanting a normal life right this minute? One where she and Scott could see if this relationship worked when they weren’t under duress. One where they could live in the open instead of huddling in the shadows like spiders under a bookcase.

  He stood, sweat still glistening on his brow. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Then we can eat something and figure out what’s next.”

  They’d both been too keyed up to eat earlier, and despite her despair, hunger gnawed at her belly. “I’ll heat the frozen pizzas.” She kissed him and went to the kitchen to turn on the oven.

  The water started running in the bathroom. Any other time, she’d surprise him in the shower—they could both use a pick-me-up. Instead, she turned back to her computer. She’d laid some groundwork on several forums, looking for anyone with info on Duncan, rumors about who he might be working with, past transgressions that weren’t public knowledge.

  She’d even considered doxing the guy—putting his personal info on the web—to get others to help her with her dirty work. But if his wife or kids got hurt, she’d never forgive herself.

  While the oven heated, she flipped her laptop around and woke it from its sleep. The worthless flash drive they’d risked their lives for stuck out of the computer’s USB port, a hateful reminder that they had nothing.

  Her heart slammed against her sternum. “Oh, shit.”

  Initially, she hadn’t worried about inserting the drive because it was hers, seemingly undisturbed, untouched. No threat. And her antivirus software hadn’t alerted her. Then
, she’d been so distracted by her failure, she hadn’t even thought about what other files might be hidden on the tiny device. The kind of files she would have deployed if she were her old boss.

  Damn damn damn damn damn.

  Yanking the drive from the computer, she stuffed it into her pocket. Then she logged into her computer and disconnected from the WiFi.

  Probably too late.

  She stuffed the laptop and power cords into her bag, and ran to the bedroom where Scott had just emerged naked from the shower, all lean muscle and delicious bare skin, running a towel through his hair.

  “Get dressed,” she said, scrambling to grab what she could. “We have to get out of here.”

  “What’s going on?” He donned a pair of boxers and grabbed for his jeans.

  “I’m an idiot. I didn’t check the drive, but there’s a good chance Duncan knows where we are right now.”

  “Shit,” he said, buttoning his pants. Superman couldn’t have dressed faster.

  In under a minute, she waited by the front door wearing a snow cap, heavy jacket, and gloves, bag packed with the essentials, especially her money.

  “Scott?” she called toward the bedroom, wondering at the unexpected delay. Hadn’t he been right behind her? His winter gear was next to the door. What the hell was the holdup?

  He emerged from the room, switching off the overhead light on his way out. His backpack was looped casually over one shoulder, but he didn’t look ready to run. Instead, he held one of the burner phones to his ear.

  “My name is Scott Kramer. I’m a wanted fugitive.”

  Valerie’s jaw unhinged. “What are you doing?” she asked in a stage whisper.

  He shook his head and made a silencing gesture with one finger as he strolled casually into the kitchen and turned off the oven.

  She sputtered. His actions were so outside the unexpected, she couldn’t even form a coherent response. Betrayal stabbed her hard and fast like a dagger to the heart.

  “Yes, ma’am. That Scott Kramer.” Regret crossed his handsome features and he held Valerie’s gaze as he said, “I’d like to turn myself in.”