by Alisa Woods
Emily plopped down into her chair and studied her screen. She hadn’t even managed to log in yet. It was ridiculously early, so no one else was in. No one to catch her sobbing at her desk, if it came to that. She set down her mug, shoved her keyboard to the side, and laid her head down on her folded arms. How could she actually focus on work when her head was still filled with thoughts of Noah?
“Hard night?” a male voice asked.
She jumped clean into the air, literally falling out of her seat. A gasp of air leaped out of her, and she barely caught herself on the edge of the desk to keep from going down completely. As she struggled back into her chair, which was sliding around on the wheels, she managed to look up and see who had startled her so badly.
It was one of the cleaning staff. The building owners had a service that came in off-hours. The guy was a medium-sized man, older than her twenty-one years—maybe thirty?—and he was grinning at her as if catching office workers in the dead of morning was some kind of prank he liked to play.
“You scared the crap out of me…” She peered at his name tag. “…Richard.” She’d never seen him before. Usually the cleaning staff was comprised of short Polish women, but that was the night-time crew. She was never in this early.
“Sorry, Ms. Jones,” he said with a smirk that brought wrinkles to the corners of his eyes. He didn’t look sorry at all. “Thought you might need some help.” His eyes were dark, and they flicked a look at her screen. “You all right here?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she said. “Except for that small heart attack just now.”
His eyes sparkled. “Come in early to work, did you?”
“I’ve got some things to catch up on.” Awfully nosy for the maintenance staff. She wondered briefly where his equipment was… no vacuum or other supplies were immediately obvious.
“Well, I won’t keep you from it.” He gave her a long look—too long, like he was looking for something, then he turned away and shuffled down the cubicle row.
Strange.
Emily grabbed her mug, took a sip, then set it down again. She had to get her head in the game. The bomber had escaped last night, and he was obviously on to them now. They needed some kind of strategy to flush him out again… a way to trap him that he wouldn’t expect…
She logged in and brought up the WildLove database, poking around the archives of her message chats with Noah. But that just made her heart ache, along with the sweet ache of her body, and totally messed up her head again. She sighed, closed out the chat, and pulled up another part of the code for WildLove. There had to be some way to track this guy down. Riverwise would run his description and maybe the plates from the car, if they had them, and that might ferret the guy out. But Emily had his digital signature in here, somehow, if she could just suss it from the data. She’d captured the real-time feeds during their secure chat. That was where she should start. Somehow he’d gotten in—Emily would just have to keep at it until she figured out how.
She dove in, tapping at her keyboard, bringing up screen after screen of code and data. She was so immersed in what she was doing, she didn’t hear the maintenance guy until he was nearly at the open door of her cubicle again. His heavy boots gave him away just as he arrived, swishing rough along the office’s trim carpet. She looked up from her keyboard right as he swung into her cubicle, holding the wall with one hand and a dusting rag with the other. He must have been cleaning something because he had gloves on now.
“Hey, I had another question for you, Emily.” His dark eyes bored into hers.
“What’s that?” Her internal alarm system was ringing bells all of a sudden. Emily? How did he know her name? Oh right… it was on her cubicle wall.
He stepped into her cubicle and came way too close, leaning on her desk and peering at her screen.
“Um… trying to work here…” she said, leaning away from him in her chair. What was this guy’s deal?
He turned and smiled wide. “I can see that.”
What the—? “Look, I can call security if you’d like—” Her heart was suddenly pounding.
“But you haven’t answered my question, Emily.”
Holy shit, who was this crazy person? “What question?” She scooted her chair back, but there was nowhere to go—she was right up against the cubicle wall.
His eyes took on a crazy glint. “Why do you refuse to die?”
What? She tried to get out of her chair, run, scream—do something—but he just shoved her back into it.
“Keep quiet, and I won’t have to hurt you,” he sneered, but he wasn’t looking at her. He kept flicking his eyes at her screen, and with a dawning horror, she realized… she was still logged into the WildLove database.
He was one of them—the hackers.
She lunged for the keyboard. He snarled and shoved her away, slamming her back into her chair—she hit so hard, she bounced and ended up on the floor as the chair rolled out from under her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him draw something black from the back of his pants. She had no time. She turned away like she was crawling under the desk to get away from him, but in reality, she was going for the power cords. She only needed a second… there. She yanked the cable from the wall, powering down her entire workstation.
“What the—” The man slammed on the keyboard, and the table jumped above her head. Coffee splashed off the side, a brown waterfall that doused the carpet in chai latte. “Fuck!”
Emily curled up against the wall, tucking her legs in and getting as far from him as she could. He crouched down to glare at her, and it was now very, very obvious that what he’d pulled from the back of his pants was a gun.
Because it was pointing straight at her face.
“Come on out of there,” he growled.
She shook her head, although it was jittery. She was shaking all over. But the fact that he was down there with her, trying to get her to come out, meant she succeeded in cutting off his access to WildLove. She didn’t know exactly who he was or why he was here, but it could really only be one thing… the bombers had given up on hacking the message system and come directly to the source.
“I said, come out!” His shout rang out across the office, but it was empty. No one was coming to rescue her. No one even knew this guy was here.
“No.” Her defiance was a whisper, but it turned his face red.
He shook the tip of the gun at her, like it was a finger he was wagging. “Come out or I’ll shoot you.”
“You can’t shoot me,” she said, in awe of the words coming out of her mouth.
“Oh, yeah?” He pointed the gun at her foot, which was poking out from her tucked-up legs just enough to be shot.
“Wait, wait!” she yelled, hands out. “If you shoot, people will come.”
The red in his face darkened. He glowered at her for a moment, then he rocked back on his heels and tucked the gun back into his pants.
She tried to calm her breathing, but her heart was racing like crazy, and air was chuffing in and out of her lungs like she was running a mile. Then suddenly he was crawling in after her and grabbing her foot.
“No!” she yelled, kicking at him and clawing at the fabric of the cubicle wall, the steel legs of her desk, anything to stop him, but none of it was any use. He was too strong—he hauled her out by her ankle, then a rough hand grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her up from the floor. Once she was upright, he held her by both arms with her rear end pressed painfully against the table. His wiry body in the maintenance uniform loomed over her—even though he wasn’t much taller than she was, his muscular hands held her in an iron grip.
His breath was sour on her face, but that didn’t turn her stomach as much as his ugly smile. “I didn’t expect to find anyone in the office this morning,” he growled in her face. “I didn’t expect to find you at all, not after last night. When I saw you from our motel window, it took me a while to figure out where I knew you from. I told Shirley it couldn’t be you, but she insisted. Said she’d s
een you in the company reports, on the website and in the press. I thought for sure we would have blown you and that shifter into tiny bits, but then the news reports said there were no casualties.”
Emily’s heart sank further with every word.
He’d been there last night. He’d already tried to kill her once. He would certainly do it again.
She didn’t say anything.
“I figured I’d have to hack into the server myself,” he went on. “Shouldn’t be as difficult from a computer inside the building. Didn’t plan on having the lead programmer here to give me the password. Guess it’s my lucky day.”
He was going to kill her anyway—he was the kind of man who would, and he’d already tried once. But she’d be damned if she would give him access to an entire database of shifters to target next.
“I’m not giving you access to anything.” She glared up into his face.
He chuckled darkly, and his hands tightened painfully on her arms. “We’ll see about that.”
Then her phone chimed from where it sat on the desk next to her mouse. They both looked. Emily’s heart sank even further as she saw the popup: Noah Wilding.
Missed you when I woke up. Call me.
“Oh… is that how it is, now?” His sneering voice sent a tremor through her.
Oh God, no. The shudder worked her over from head to toe. Please, don’t let Noah get involved in this.
He peered down into her eyes. “So you weren’t just setting a trap for me last night… you’re one of those shifter lovers who gets off on banging those freaks of nature.”
She wanted to beg him to leave Noah alone, but she knew that would just make things worse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But even she could hear the tremor in her voice.
“Sure, you don’t.” He nodded and licked his lips, then scooped the phone off the desk. Her heart sank as he slipped it into his pocket. “This is going to be more fun than I thought.”
That sent a chill through her that froze her solid.
His nasty grin was back. “I’ll take care of Noah Wilding soon enough. But first, you’re going to log me into the WildLove database and download all those shifters’ real names and addresses onto a nice little drive for me.”
Sourness rose up the back of Emily’s throat. How could she possibly stop this?
He squeezed harder on one arm, then slid his other hand up to grasp her throat.
She couldn’t help the whimper that came out of her mouth.
He leered down at her. “I don’t have to shoot you to kill you,” he said, breathing in her face. “And I don’t need you, either. I was planning to hack in on my own, so all your pretty little neck is good for is saving me a little time. So what’s it going to be, shifter-lover?”
A little time. She was scared—scared to death—but she needed more time to figure a way out of this. And some help to stop him from getting away with it. If he simply killed her and took what he wanted from the database, he’d never be caught… and hundreds, if not thousands, of shifter lives would be in danger. But if she went along with what he wanted, she could buy some precious time to find a way to stop him.
“I’ll help you,” she eeked out. It was hard to speak with his hand on her throat. “Please don’t kill me.”
He smirked and eased his hand back from choking her. “That’s better.” Then he shoved her down into her seat. “Now get me what I want. All of it—names, addresses, hookups, everything you have.”
She nodded shakily and pointed to her dead screen. “I need power.”
“Fix it!” he snarled.
She crawled under the desk, slowly, and plugged the station back in. Once she was back in her chair and her screen was booting up, she said, “That’s a lot of data. It’ll take some time.”
He pulled a high-capacity drive out of his pocket and set it next to her keyboard. “Just get it done.”
She would draw the process out as long as possible, and she would look for any opportunity to get away. But most importantly, she needed to get a message to Noah. Once she was inside the database, she could do it—set up a script, have it launch remotely, get a message to him somehow. But she had to be careful… this bomber had tech skills, and he was watching every move she made. She would have to be fast and would probably only get one chance.
She would have to make it count.
Noah was just about to exit the Wylderide parking garage when Emily’s text came.
It just pinged his phone and flashed by so he couldn’t read it until he parked again. Then it took him forever to find it again, because it didn’t come through as a normal message, but on the WildLove app instead. When he finally read it, he was glad he wasn’t driving.
HELP. Bomber here at WildLove office.
He just stared at the phone for a long second. Holy shit. Then he stabbed at the phone, quickly bringing up Owen’s number and dialing.
“Hey, man, did you forget something?” Owen’s voice was filled with laughter, and Noah could hear his cousin giggling in the background, but none of that mattered—he could barely hear them anyway over the roar of panic in his ears.
“The WildLove bomber has Emily,” Noah gasped out.
Owen instantly sobered. “What?”
“I just got a text from her.” Noah’s voice was ramping up to panic. “God, Owen, he has her at the office. She went in early, and…” His throat was closing up. He shouldn’t have brought her into this! And now she was in danger again.
“Where are you?” Owen was moving. Sounds in the background made it seem like he hauling ass.
“Parking garage,” Noah choked out.
“Sit tight. I’ll be right there.” Owen’s clipped, no-nonsense voice was reassuring, but Noah was just coming out of his panic-fueled fog. He had to go now. That maniac had Emily.
His throat opened up enough to let in some air. “I have to get over there—”
“I said sit tight. I’m on my way down. Meet me at the elevator.”
“Okay. Right. Elevator.” Noah put the car in gear and spun through the parking garage, heading back to the elevator.
“I’m hanging up to call for backup,” Owen said through the phone. “Do not leave without me, Noah. Say it.”
“Get the fuck down here, Owen,” Noah ground out. It was killing him to not already be heading at high speed across downtown to the WildLove office.
“Copy that.” Owen hung up.
In spite of the rock-hard grip Noah had on the steering wheel to keep himself from bolting, he was glad Owen was close by and on his way. He was ex-Army, just like Noah, plus he’d worked for Riverwise after they were both liberated from the cages. Barreling into this situation—probably a hostage situation, he realized with a horrible sinking feeling—would likely just get Emily killed. Noah needed a level head and backup, just like Owen said.
It took an interminable time, but it was probably only thirty seconds before Owen came sprinting out of the elevator. As soon as he was in the car, Noah stomped on the accelerator, and they pealed out of the parking garage.
“I called Riverwise,” Owen said quickly but with a voice far calmer than Noah felt. “Daniel’s on his way with a whole van full of pack members.”
“Are they at the safehouse?” Noah asked as he screeched around a corner far too fast.
“Yes,” Owen said tightly.
Which meant they were too far away to help. “We’re on our own, then,” Noah said, eyes glued to the road.
“Maybe.” Owen pulled out two pistols and started loading one with ammo. “We get there, we case the situation, then we make that call. Deal?”
“I’m not risking Emily’s life by waiting,” Noah ground out as he took another corner.
“Understood.” Owen started loading the second pistol.
The safehouse was an hour away from downtown. Maybe half that with Daniel driving like a madman. But Noah and Owen would be at the Seattle Shifters Dating Agency office in less than ten minutes, assuming th
ey didn’t crash or get pulled over.
“What do we know so far?” Owen asked, his voice still steady.
Nothing, Noah wanted to snap, but Owen’s calm voice was helping him keep his raging anger and guilt under control.
Instead, he steeled himself to brief Owen on anything that might help. “She was gone this morning when I woke up. Her text said she was heading to the office. Something about a new idea to track the bomber.”
“Time?”
Noah nodded to his phone on the dash, so Owen picked it up and checked. “Okay, about an hour has elapsed since that first text. But I don’t see the second one.”
“That came through on the WildLove app. Under my NICK pseudonym.”
Owen tapped the phone and took a moment to read the text. “Okay, not good.” His voice was considerably more strained. “Hard to say when she sent it, but this just came through on your end. So, as of this text, we know she’s holding it together, alive, and working on getting free. This is all positive, Noah.”
“Owen,” he growled. A fucking murdering shifter-hater had his girl. There was nothing positive about that.
“Right. Shutting up, now.”
Noah was sucking air between his teeth to hold it together. His wolf was howling to get out and tear apart whoever was holding Emily prisoner, but he had to keep his shit together to have any hope of rescuing her.
“Whoever has her,” Noah said through his teeth, “has to be part of the hate group. She’s calling him the bomber, so maybe it’s actually the bomber.”
“The guy from last night?”
“Yeah.” Noah pushed through a nearly-red light. “He’s been tech savvy from the jump, hacking the system, figuring out where the hookups were. Now he’s at WildLove.”
“Do you think he went in after her?”
“I don’t know.” Noah grimaced, trying to piece it together as they sped through downtown. “Why not go after her before? Why now?”
“If he’s the bomber, then he must have seen her at the motel.”