by Juno Rushdan
Each word flayed Kit, scraping back raw layers best left hidden. She was officially freaked, with a capital F for fucked. Kit did her best not to look as if she was about to jump out of her skin, but having an aneurysm from shock was a serious possibility.
“Do you know my shoe size too?” Kit snapped.
Willow’s brows scrunched together. “No. How would I know your shoe size?”
“How in the hell could you possibly know any of what you just said?”
“I met you four years ago at Code-A-Con.”
Kit shook her head. “We’ve never met. I’d remember you.” That face. The talent. The awkwardness.
“Actually, I met Lincoln. Tall, thin, African American. I was the runner-up in the Digital Mass competition. He figured out I threw it and lost on purpose.”
Digital Mass was the premier coding competition in the country. Only the best of the best competed, and the brightest won. The winner got five grand and a bevy of job offers.
“Lincoln thought I’d fit in with the group you founded. The Outliers,” Willow said.
Sanborn wiped the look of smug satisfaction from his face into a placid expression—a veritable brick wall. His sharp, shrewd gaze flickered to Kit and then straight to Castle. Some unspoken conversation passed between the two. Castle’s eyes hardened, and he lowered his head.
Not good. At. All.
“Lincoln told me lots about you,” Willow said, “and the Outliers. He wanted us to meet.”
Kit cringed internally. It was all she could do not to scream shut up, leap across the table, and strangle pretty Willow into silence. “Why didn’t we meet?”
“I already had a job here.”
“This is the leader of the Outliers?” Sanborn asked Willow while pointing at Kit. “Number three on our list of homegrown groups posing a grave cyber risk to national security?”
A bucket of ice water drenched Kit’s soul. Whenever someone in the government threw the term national security around, it was bad. Piling grave risk on top of that from the director of this supersecret Fort Knox made her heart pound as her situation went into a tailspin.
“Why would the Outliers pose a risk to the country?” Kit asked.
“Ever Shield.” Sanborn’s voice was cold steel. “That software of yours can subvert a government program critical to mitigating terrorist threats. That’s probably the reason you created it.”
Not exactly. Boundless Informant was the reason. The NSA’s data-mining tool monitored private citizens’ phone calls and emails without a warrant. Someone needed the power to put the kibosh on that kind of illegal invasion of privacy. But writing the program didn’t break any laws, and they hadn’t gotten around to selling it.
Which led to a terrifying question. “How do you know about Ever Shield?”
Willow opened her mouth to speak, but Sanborn lifted his hand, thrusting a palm out like a traffic cop, killing her voice.
“Miss Westcott, you’re here to answer our questions. Not the other way around,” he said. “I don’t think you understand the severity of your predicament. This is now beyond people trying to kill you in a park.”
Time for her to dump the leader-is-ultimately-responsible attitude and spin this toward self-preservation. Not as if the guys would care. Everyone who’d worked on Ever Shield was dead.
“I didn’t create Ever Shield,” Kit said. “I was more of a Steve Jobs, not a Steve Wozniak.”
“Jobs was the architect, the mastermind behind the work of engineers like Wozniak,” Willow said, half to herself, doodling on the notepad.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Would this chick please shut up?
“Your status here has changed. As the founder of the Outliers, you’re not a simple POI.” The accusation in Sanborn’s tone and behind his eyes had Kit’s belly drawing tight. “You’ll sign the NDAs and answer my questions. Or your life is about to take a very ugly, very painful turn.”
That was ambiguous and creepy at best.
But no one was going to erase her civil liberties. She had the right to privacy, due process, a fair trial. And if Simply Sanborn wanted a fight, she’d give him one.
She lifted her chin and scooted to the edge of her seat, but Castle clamped a warm hand over her knee under the table and squeezed hard. The silent warning shook her to the core.
Message received: don’t fight.
But Sanborn considered her a threat, and the information on the hard drives would substantiate his beliefs.
Now she didn’t know what to do.
“I need to use the bathroom.” Kit lurched to her feet and scrambled away from the table. “Can someone point the way to the restroom?”
Castle rose, pushing his chair back. Kit darted behind him, making a beeline for the door.
“Doc, accompany them,” Sanborn said. “Ensure Ms. Westcott is comfortable.”
“I don’t need one to hold the stall door open,” Kit said, “and the other to wipe me.”
Without missing a beat, Sanborn gave a slick, well-practiced smile. “An armed officer will keep eyes on you at all times in my facility. There isn’t a female operative available. I’d hate to put you in an inappropriate position.”
“Three’s a crowd,” she said, ignoring Castle’s glare. “I’ll risk it alone with the big guy.”
Castle stepped in front of her, blocking her line of vision to Sanborn with the wide expanse of his torso, and threw her a spine-chilling scowl. Cupping her shoulder, he escorted her from the room.
In the hall, Kit shrugged free of Castle’s grasp, but he only slipped his hand back under her elbow and carted her down the corridor. Between the thundercloud of testosterone that he radiated and his big hand locked on her arm, resistance was futile.
Throwing the women’s room door open, he scuttled her inside. Castle checked the row of stalls, pushing doors in, and stalked back up to her.
“I’m trying to help you.” His deep, angry voice struck hard, like a whip. She not only heard it but felt it. “You are stuck waist-deep in quicksand. Sanborn is a good man but tough when necessary. The more you fight him, I promise, the faster you’ll sink.”
“Sanborn can’t just take away my basic rights—”
“You’re on that damn list! Sanborn can bury you.”
The panicked rush of blood in her ears was the only sound she heard for a moment. “Because of Ever Shield? We never attacked the government with it. Never even sold it.”
“He can still put you in a gruesome black site where you’ll never get a lawyer. Hell, he doesn’t have to go that far. We have a trained interrogator on the team who’ll redefine your concept of pain. Reaper is off-site right now tracking one of those guys from the park. I’d prefer it if you were clear of this facility before he gets back.”
His declaration pressed on Kit’s chest like a lead weight. Her knees were seconds from buckling. She locked her legs and looked around as if a miraculous escape hatch might appear out of thin air.
Castle curled his hands around her shoulders, and she realized she was trembling. His tender touch was a jarring contrast to his rough tone, restoring her bandwidth enough to breathe. Everything about him was rock-steady. But he was used to gunfights and the coercion of civilians without due process.
“The only way I can help you is if you talk to me, Kit.”
Her mouth tasted like chalk. “They’re dead. The Outliers. All dead.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t want to weep. Not in this place, especially not in front of him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Death took everyone she loved. Those with limitless potential while she was mediocre at best and living on borrowed time. It was so unfair.
Exhaustion and grief ballooned inside her. She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. If she didn’t stay strong, the Outliers would never have justice.
“Need a Kleenex or…something?” he asked, like the sight of a weepy woman cracking to pieces might be more than he could stomach.
“I’m not crying.” Misty-eyed, maybe, but she was far from sobbing. “I’m angry. My friends were murdered. I want to beat the men who killed them and see those bastards locked behind bars.”
“Violence and justice I can handle.” His voice was quiet and deceptively soothing. He rubbed her shoulders, and against her better judgment, she accepted the small comfort. “You’re in trouble. I want to help you, but you have to tell me what you know.”
She pulled away. “Why do you want to help me? I pose a grave risk to national security.”
“The Outliers posed a risk. I don’t think you’re the enemy. Something about you screams hostile but innocent. And if what happened in the park is any indication, you’re caught up in a nasty mess that’s going to get you killed. I’m your best chance at surviving. So prove you’re not a coconspirator. Cooperate. I swore to protect you and I will, so long as you’re not guilty of working with terrorists. You have to trust me on that.”
Kit was desperate to believe him, but common sense kicked in. Maybe this was a good cop, bad cop tactic and he was playing her. “You haven’t proven you’re a white hat.”
He grimaced. “What do you want, me to take a bullet for you? If you need more proof, let me get you out of here. But in order for me to do that, you have to work with me.” He glanced at the door. “We don’t have forever to quibble. Tell me how you know about Z-1984. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
His sexy, calm demeanor didn’t minimize her frustration or her annoyance.
“Trust is a two-way street,” she said. “I’m the one stuck against my will in a classified hidey-hole six stories below ground. And now I’m also facing the prospect of incarceration in a black site or torture at the hands of your esteemed colleague, Reaper.” A scary-sounding dude she never wanted to meet. “I still don’t know who you guys are or what this place is. None of this inspires me to divulge secrets.”
CIA and FBI had been ruled out, but they were some tentacle of the intelligence octopus and she wanted to know which one before saying anything that might incriminate her further.
“You’ll sign the NDAs?” Castle asked.
“Of course I’ll sign them.” Not as if she had a choice. They’d probably threaten to hack off one of her hands if she didn’t.
“We’re an independent covert agency, sanctioned to operate on domestic or foreign soil. This place is called the Gray Box. Sanborn’s boss is the president. Once you sign the NDAs, only POTUS and the director of national intelligence will see the paperwork.” He crossed his strong arms over his massive chest. “Z-1984. What do you know?”
She’d have to share enough for him to believe her. No question she needed help, and he was her best option, but how much could she risk telling him without getting herself locked up?
“What I just told you is classified top secret,” he said in the wake of her silence. “Most people in the intelligence community don’t know we exist. I’m putting my neck on the line here. Talk to me. We can’t stay in this bathroom forever, and you can’t run through quicksand.”
Swallowing her qualms, she decided. “I usually picked the jobs for the Outliers. Never anything illegal. Four months ago, a guy named Jasper infiltrated our group. He convinced the Outliers that they weren’t reaching their full potential under my leadership and could make real money following him instead.”
Despite the cushy lifestyle she’d provided and steady paychecks from solid jobs, that weasel had brought the whole thing down. It was her fault and her greatest shame. Idiot. She had the worst luck with men. They were always using her for something.
“How did Jasper infiltrate your group?”
Deets about Jasper were classified none of Castle’s business.
“What’s important is Jasper accepted a cryptic job from a man calling himself Bravo. First, the Outliers had to pass a test, cracking some security system to prove they had the chops for the job. Two million dollars for two days of work. They jumped at it.”
“Two million is a lot of money to turn down. Enough to tempt a saint.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you expect me to believe that’s what you are?”
“Principles should trump cash, but I’m no saint. What I am is wealthy, thanks to a robust trust fund.”
“So robust you don’t bat a lash at two million?”
“I have more than I can spend in two lifetimes.” She would’ve traded every cent to have those she loved back. “The whole thing felt wrong. I warned them, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“What was the job?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He dropped his hands and backed away. His expression went stone-cold, eyes solid ice.
Eerie how he did that.
“I swear on my life, that’s the truth.” Kit pressed her hands to his chest, and for a delirious moment, she enjoyed the ripple of his muscles beneath her palms. “The last thing I want is for my friends’ deaths to be in vain and for those bastards to get away with it.”
“You said everyone was killed. How?”
She quickly described the massacre and the fire at the Lair she’d seen on the news, changing one tiny detail. “I got one backup hard drive that has some of what they worked on.”
No need to mention she had three drives. He’d never get his hands on any of them.
His disposition softened a fraction like he believed her. “Where were your friends murdered?”
She spouted the NoMa address off First Street.
“The police and FBI are crawling all over that case. Did you see what’s on the drive?”
“I decrypted a video of a guy in a ski mask gloating about how no one was safe, not even this country’s untouchables. That they deserved Z-1984 and how it was a fitting end for them. There were subtitles in English across the bottom of the screen. He was speaking Arabic, which I suck at. I’m better with Neo-Latin, Indo-European languages. The video was set for a time-delayed release.”
“To release when?”
“Eight days from now. On the fourteenth.”
“That’s Columbus Day. I wonder if there’s any correlation. Finally, a concrete lead.”
If she was their only concrete lead, her leverage quotient had just increased exponentially.
“That’s all I know,” she said. “I was afraid to spend too much time in public hacking into the rest of the drive.”
“You’re a loose end. That’s why they want you dead. You need to give us the hard drive.”
She shook her head. “There’s sensitive private data on it.” Ever Shield happened to be on Lincoln’s drive. The government would destroy the program if they got their hands on it, erasing the Outliers’ legacy. Or worse, use it for their benefit as a weapon. Ever Shield had been the team’s greatest achievement and it was all she had left of her friends. Letting the government get their hands on it wasn’t going to happen. Besides, those hard drives were her only leverage to get herself out of Spookville. “I’m not turning it over.”
How could he possibly think she was that naive to give up her only insurance?
“You’re too stubborn for your own good.” He shot her a ferocious look.
As if she’d buckle. She crossed her arms. “I’ll transfer all files related to this”—whatever the heck this nightmare was—“onto a new drive, which I’ll hand over.” If she didn’t make it to Romania before that, where she’d send him the data, keeping her end of the bargain. “First, I need out of this underground fortress, a hot shower, and a decent meal.” She also had to figure out how she was going to get her passport and medication from her apartment. “And I want your assurance that you’ll protect me until Bravo’s men are apprehended or killed.”
Always smart to have a worst-case contin
gency plan.
“I’ll speak to Sanborn,” Castle said, “see what he thinks is—”
“No!” She tilted her head to the side and gave him a fixed are you shitting me? look. “I don’t mean ‘protected’ in a cell at a black site.” Surely, his boss would constitute locked away as protection. “I want you to protect me. Nonnegotiable. Or no deal.”
“Sanborn isn’t a man to trifle with. Push him too far, too hard, he’ll reduce you to a memory.”
Too bad there was no one left to remember her.
“Kit, make requests of Sanborn. Not demands. No deals. You’ll have to concede.”
Surrender wasn’t an option. “I’m asking you for help, not your boss.” She dug deep, trying to recall the right technique to use from that How to Win Friends and Influence People seminar. If there was ever a time that she needed it, this was it. Kit risked taking his hand. “I’ll never forget how you saved me at the park. You were like an action hero from a movie. I’m going to trust you.” To an extent. “To get me out of here.”
Didn’t mean she was fooling herself. He was still a hardened government agent who’d only saved her because she was a POI with information he needed. No delusions beyond that.
“I’m not guilty of terrorism or conspiracy,” Kit said. “I’m not an anarchist or a traitor to my country, but I don’t think Sanborn will ever believe I’m innocent. I want to stop Bravo from hurting anyone else and to see those guys in prison for what they did. I want to help. You’ll get all the information pertaining to the job the Outliers worked on.” And she would make good on that vow. “But you know my conditions.”
Freedom and safety were nonnegotiable.