“Isaac’s at his home,” Adam says, sliding his phone back into place. “He went straight there from here. He didn’t meet with anyone.”
“Anyone but you watching his house?”
“No one. You think he’s being targeted, too? I thought you believed he was behind this tonight?”
“I’m not ruling out anything right now. Isaac is running from more than me and Harper. Was tonight related to his fear? Yes, but I’m not sure how. Was tonight’s visitor a tipster trying to help? A hired goon trying to fuck with my head? Someone trying to mock me with the message in numbers? The options are many.”
“Agreed. We’re in this to end it with you. I’m here. The job I came for is over. I’m not going back to New York until you go back. You staying here or at the hotel?” he asks.
“Here,” I say, disliking hotels where strangers come and go too easily.
“Then so am I.” He motions toward the side of the house and then heads that way and I don’t even care that anyone watching knows he’s here. In fact, I’m glad they know to stay the hell away.
I scan the area but I see no one and feel no one. I start walking and reach in my pocket, removing a mini Rubik’s cube, and while I once had to actually work the puzzle to focus my mind, I now just need to hold it to mentally work the challenge of it and whatever I’m trying to focus on outside of it. My mind chases those numbers, looking for their meaning: an employee badge number, a reference number to a medical claim. The list becomes a dozen long by the time I reach the hotel and Blake is calling me.
“The numbers mean nothing to you, genius?” he asks, as I enter the lobby and head toward the stairs. “What the fuck?”
“They’re an identifier,” I say, moving my weapon to the rear of my pants. “In other words, Mr. Hacker Genius. Find out what they identify.”
“Already working on it. It’s not a VIN number or car part.”
“I already told Adam that. Think outside of the box. I’ll send you a list of prospects if you need them, but of course, you’re a genius hacker, right?”
“You just can’t stand the idea of someone else being the genius, now can you?”
“I’ll believe you’re a genius when you find out what that identifier means.”
“Rolling my sleeves up now, asshole. Get ready to feel stupid for once. And while I’m the genius hacking, our lab will run prints of the stuff you and Adam bagged tonight. How present do you want my men in Denver?”
“Present, but out of sight until we know what the hell really happened tonight.”
“What’s your gut?”
“That this is a symptom of a bigger problem and we don’t know the real problem or who is behind that problem.”
“Agreed,” Blake says.
We talk another minute and disconnect right as I exit to my floor, my hand back on the Rubik’s cube. By the time I reach my door and relieve Jensen of his duties, I’ve decided to look to the obvious place for an answer to what that identifier represents—Harper. That man was at her house. It hits me then; I’ve been assuming the message is for me because of the numbers when it could be for her. Certainty fills me; the message is for Harper and for reasons that are pure instinct, that feels like a problem. That feels dangerous. It feels like something else Harper still hasn’t told me and if she was anyone else, I’d have already homed in on there being more to know with her.
I’ve said it, and now I feel it ten-fold: I can’t trust my instincts with this woman. I’m too fucking insanely into her. And the very idea that at this point, Harper could be holding information back, does not sit well. I want answers or I’m out.
I slide my keycard into the room door and open it. I’ve made it all of four steps when Harper charges at me, flings herself into my arms, and breathes out, “Thank God.”
Thank God, spoken with relief.
“I was so worried.” She pulls back to look at me. “I’m glad you’re back.”
She has a million questions, I’m certain, but she’s not asking them. She’s focused on me and I don’t remember the last time anyone worried about me or focused on me for any reason that wasn’t to hurt me or compete with me. I don’t remember a time when anyone defended me as she did with her mother. Her mother, who is all she has, the only one she calls family. No one understands that more than me. With that thought, I decide right now that if she’s hiding something, she’s afraid. Words Grayson has said to me over and over come back to me: You get what you give. If I don’t give Harper my trust, she will never give me hers. She doesn’t trust me with her secret because she doesn’t trust me not to leave. I’ve done so two times before. I earned her distrust.
I tangle my fingers into her hair and kiss her. “I’m not going anywhere. Watch and see.”
Her eyes cloud and darken. “Promise?”
“Yes, Harper, I promise. Now, take me home to your bed.”
“Is it safe?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you everything on the way. Just like I hope you will tell me everything. When you’re ready.”
I don’t give her time to deny or reply. I don’t place that pressure on her. I kiss her again, grab my bag, and lead her to the door. I’m giving her my trust. I’ll earn hers. And I won’t allow either of us to regret those decisions.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Eric
I manage to usher Harper to the elevator without much explanation, but once the car doors shut and I’ve punched in the lobby level, she’s ready for answers. “What happened when you went to my house and why do you want to get back there now with such urgency?”
Because I want her back home where I know we’re secure, where I can control our environment, and Walker Security is guarding the exterior of the property. “That was the whole idea,” I say instead. “Get my bag. Go back to your place.”
Her lips purse. “We’re in this together, remember? No secrets, Eric. I deserve to know what just happened at my own home. Why did you rush me here only to rush me back?”
“I don’t like group settings with unknown elements at play.”
“Meaning the guy watching my house,” she assumes.
“The entire situation doesn’t feel right. You were right to pull me into this.”
“I hated pulling you in.”
“I don’t,” I say and intend to move on to the message we received tonight, eager to find out if she knows what it means, but she gets there first.
“The car at my house, Eric. Tell me what happened.”
“The minute I walked in his direction, he rolled down the window and tossed a cigarette and note out.”
“A note? What kind of note?”
“A piece of paper with a fourteen-digit sequence of numbers and letters.”
She frowns. “Nothing but the sequence? That’s odd.”
“Correct,” I say.
“Then it has to be a message for you, right? Your genius doesn’t scare whoever is behind it. Or they know you. They know how you operate.”
“Or it’s meant for you,” I say.
“Me?” Her brow furrows. “Maybe,” she says, showing no resistance to the idea. “It was my house he was watching, but the numbers feel related to you, not me. Do you understand what they mean?” The elevator dings and the doors open.
We step into the lobby and start walking toward the door. “It’s a name that isn’t a name,” I say, and when most people would just stare at me after a statement like that, she follows my lead immediately.
“Like a VIN or part number?” she asks.
“It’s neither of those things. I’m hoping once you look at it it’ll mean something to you.” We exit the front of the hotel and I pull my phone from my pocket and key in a message. “I just sent you a text with the sequence,” I say, following her to the car door that the doorman is holding open for her. “See what it means to you, if anything.”
“I left my phone at home.”
I hand her mine with the messa
ge pulled up and palm the doorman a large bill, as he helps her into my rental. Once I join Harper in the car, I place us in drive and glance her direction. “Any idea what it means?”
“I wish I did,” she says, “But I don’t.” She turns to me, engaged, not avoiding. My paranoia over the message being for her was about my need to protect myself when I’m supposed to be protecting her. “You’re sure it’s not a parts number?” she asks.
“I’m one-hundred-percent positive,” I say. “It’s not a parts number, or not one in any recognized database.”
“But there’s so many parts and manufacturers and—”
“It’s not a parts number,” I say, turning us toward her house.
“What about a VIN number for a competitor?”
“No.”
“How do you know?” she presses. “I mean, I get that you’re a numbers guy, but VIN numbers could be data added and deleted from databases that you might not have access to.”
“It wouldn’t be sequenced in that manner,” I insist, pulling us into her driveway. “But we’re not without resources. Blake Walker is considered one of the best hackers in the world. He’ll look for a connection that isn’t obvious.”
“The part where he’s a hacker. Is that a good or bad thing?”
“He’s one of the good guys. The kind our own military contacts for help. He’s going to run the sequence and see what technology reveals.” I park and kill the engine.
“Okay, then another question: is this a warning or a clue?”
“If it were a warning, it would be something more obvious.”
“Right,” I say. “I mean, people have died. It makes sense someone would want to help us. People closer to this than I am in some way. It makes sense they’d know you to be the one that would stand up against the Kingstons.” Her gaze goes to her door. “I bought this place a year after meeting you, my escape from Kingston hell.” She glances over at me. “I didn’t know you’d lived in this area and yet I gravitated here. That’s odd, right?”
“Kismet, sweetheart,” I say softly.
“Yes,” she says, the air thickening between us. “Kismet.”
I stroke her cheek. “Let’s go inside.” I reach for the door.
She grabs my arm and her attention is riveted on the house. “Are you really sure this is a good idea? Is it safe?”
“You have me, sweetheart,” I say giving her a wink. “You’re safe.”
“From everyone but you?”
I lean over and stroke her cheek. “If you had protection from me, how would I ravish you night and day?”
She laughs and strokes her fingers over my jaw. “And I do want to be ravished by you.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” I kiss her and straighten. “I’ll grab my bag and then come around and get you. Wait on me.”
I exit the car, waste no time grabbing my bag, and right as I reach the passenger door, Harper pops it open. I offer her my hand and pull her to her feet and to me. Her arms wrap my waist, and I know the moment her hand manages to hit the gun she’s miraculously missed until now. Her eyes rocket to mine. “Walker armed me,” I explain.
“Right. Well, Mr. Navy SEAL. I’m not complaining. I approve and so would my father. He made me learn to shoot, and I carry.”
“Do you now?”
“Yes. I do. I should never have left without my purse or my Baby Glock.”
It’s not the weapon I’d choose for her, but we’ll deal with that another time. She’s carrying, and that could be a good thing or a bad thing. Weapons can be used against you if you don’t handle them correctly. “How often do you practice using it?”
“Not as often as I should.”
I take her hand and start walking toward the house. “We’ll fix that,” I say, digging her keys from my pocket to quickly turn the locks and shove open the door. “Your castle awaits.”
She shivers and snuggles deeper into her coat, but she just stares at the door, nervous to enter her own safe place. I pull her in front of me, my body cradling hers. “You have me, remember? You’re safe, and as a bonus, Walker has a man watching the house.” I nuzzle her ear. “I got you, Harper, and one day you’ll know that.”
She darts away with those words, grabs her phone from the island, and then turns to face me. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
I shut the door and lock it before giving her my full attention. “I never make a promise I can’t keep.”
“Actually, I said don’t make promises, but I don’t think you’ve really made any. I don’t know what I’m talking about. My room is upstairs.” She turns away and starts walking.
I don’t stop her. I follow. Her room and her bed seem like the perfect place to finish this conversation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Eric
I follow Harper up the stairs, and I don’t waste any time doing it. The last thing I want is for her to find more reasons to divide us and that’s what she just tried to do; divide us, pull back. Push back. I grab my bag and I’m behind her by the time she’s halfway up the stairs. With a few skipped steps, I’m at the door to her bedroom moments after she enters.
I pause in the doorway as she takes off her coat and tosses it onto one of two large gray chairs in front of a garden window, and I take in a room as masculine as her living room. The bed is king-sized with a slate gray headboard that matches the chairs. The floor is also gray. The only thing feminine about the space is Harper herself and the red pillows and red lampshades. Even the lamps are gray. Her décor now strikes me as a window into who she’s become. She’s living in a Kingston, male-dominated world, barely holding onto herself. I’m going to change that.
She steps to the side of the bed and sets her phone on the nightstand as if she just needs something to do with herself. I toss my bag on the chair next to her coat, remove my gun and stick it inside the bag, and then drop my own coat next to hers. We stand there, staring at each other, intimacy weaving between us. “I am glad you’re here. That’s all. I just want you to know that whatever else happens, I’m glad you’re here.” She cuts her gaze and tries to turn away.
I catch her arm and turn her to me. “Me, too, Harper. Me fucking, too. Why don’t you understand that? I didn’t come to help you. I came because I couldn’t fucking turn away. If I had my way, I’d take you and your mother the hell out of here, and we’d leave Isaac to burn in hell on his own.”
“She won’t leave. She won’t, Eric.”
“Get her to,” I say. “Convince her staying is dangerous.”
“Is it?”
“Dangerous enough to get your mother out of here and for me to get you out of here.”
“I can’t leave. I could have access to information we need.”
“Blake has everything you could have and more at his fingertips.”
“There’s value to an in-person, physical presence to investigate, especially when my mom’s on the line.”
“She’s not a strong person,” I say. “You are. Get her out,” I repeat.
“How? How do I do that? I have nothing but my suspicions to support her leaving, and that’s not enough. She’s afraid to be without your father.”
“But does she love him?”
“No. I don’t think so. No. I know she doesn’t. She doesn’t act at all with him like she did my with father.”
“Then she’ll leave him. Let’s find the motivation for her to get out.” I grab my briefcase and set it on the bed. “Let’s dig in.”
“My briefcase is still in the car,” she says. “I need to grab it.” She glances at the door and I don’t miss her unease. I’m driving home the theme of danger. It’s messing with her head.
“I’ll grab it. You get comfortable.” I head that direction and as I walk down the stairs, my phone buzzes with a text from Blake that reads: I hacked the HR files and looked at employee numbers and even union membership numbers for Kingston. No go. No matches. Still work
ing. More when I know something.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and go grab Harper’s briefcase. Once I’m back upstairs in the bedroom, I find Harper barefoot on the bed, and it doesn’t matter that she’s in sweats and a tee. My cock throbs. I want to strip her naked. I want to fuck her. I want to make love to her. But I need her out of this Godforsaken city.
I cross to the bed and set her briefcase down. “Thank you,” she says, giving me this sweet, sexy look that almost changes my priorities to dirty play instead of my dirty brother.
I sit down next to Harper and we both unpack our computers. For me, that means my MacBook and a full-sized Rubik’s cube. Harper picks it up. “A Rubik’s cube?”
I study it in her hand, the woman that is now holding a piece of me, the way I control my mind, an explanation of which exposes weakness. I could say what I say to everyone and I do just that. “It helps me focus,” but unlike the rest of the world, she doesn’t stop there.
“You’re a savant,” she says. “I read up on it. Most savants have time when the data in their heads takes over, when it overwhelms them and comes too fast. I even read about a man who has seizures when that happens.”
She tried to pull back downstairs, to place a wall between us. I fight the urge to do the same now. I don’t want to pull back with Harper and so I tell her what only Grayson and a few doctors know. “I collapsed in a swell of numbers when my mother died. My father paid for expensive doctors and one of them actually helped me, but when I got pulled up to law school three years early, and with Isaac, he was angry. He tried to trigger my episodes, as someone started calling them, but it’s like the harder he tried, the stronger I got and the more desperate he became.”
“And when you could have ruined him, you didn’t,” she says, repeating what I’d told her earlier.
“That’s right. And joining the SEALs was good for me. They helped me hone my skills and turn them into assets, not detriments.”
Her cellphone buzzes with a message on my side of the bed and she climbs over the top of me and ends up straddling my lap. “I need my phone. You were in the way.”
The Bastard (Filthy Duet Book 1) Page 16