Rich: Benson Security 5

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  “I never, for one minute, suspected your mom had anything to do with the thefts. If you’d given me a chance to deal with the situation before you came charging over here, you might have known that.” He folded his arms and gave her a stony-faced stare. All the while, his tone never rose or changed, which made her sound like the one being unreasonable.

  “You rushed up here even when you knew whose office it was.”

  “Because there could have been someone else in here.” He pointed to the corner of the ceiling. “The camera’s been covered. There was no way of knowing who was in the room.”

  Rachel looked up, and sure enough, there was a very familiar hat covering the lens. “Mother…”

  Her mother’s hand fluttered to her face, her cheeks turning pink. “I don’t like being watched while I work.”

  “Oh, for the love of Dior, do you realize how bad that looks?”

  “You can’t think I covered the camera for nefarious purposes.” Looking stunned, her mother sat down with a thump.

  As Rachel looked at Harvard, her anger seeped away, leaving her a little deflated. “I—” she started, but he held up a hand to stop her.

  “I’m going to need a minute with your daughter,” he said to her mother, striding toward Rachel. Harvard grabbed her hand and took her out into the corridor.

  She had to hurry to keep up with him as he led her to the female bathroom. After checking inside, he locked the door and turned to face her, hands on hips and eyes blazing with fury.

  “This is the last time this happens,” he said evenly. “You’re either on this team or you aren’t. What’s it gonna be? Because right now, you’re causing more damage than good, which makes me think the team would be better off coping without you. Choose now, Rachel.”

  “On the team,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Then this stops now. No more leaving your position when you’re ordered to stay put. No more undermining my leadership. And no more acting like a lone wolf. You got me?”

  Rachel let out a heavy breath. “Yes,” was all she could say.

  He stared at her for a moment before nodding once. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s get back to your mom’s office and see if we can get to the bottom of this.” His face expressionless, he turned toward the door.

  Three days she’d avoided and ignored him. Being close to him felt like too much of a temptation, one she wasn’t sure she could resist. Instinctively, she knew that this man, and only this man, could change her life forever. Could change her if she let him.

  Deep down, she must have expected that he’d keep on chasing her—even though she’d given him no encouragement. He was right. They all were. She was a first-class bitch, and she had no idea how to be any other way. But the cold, blank look on his face made courage rise up inside of her, in such a wave that it overwhelmed her fear of being vulnerable, just for a second.

  And without thought, Rachel reached out and placed her hand on his arm to stop him from leaving. She couldn’t give voice to the turmoil inside, but she could tell him why this particular situation had made her react the way she had.

  With that same blank face, he looked back at her.

  Rachel swallowed hard. “She’s my mum. I’ve always done whatever I could to protect her and the rest of my family. My close family. The ones who love me regardless. I’ve always protected them, and I didn’t think about what that meant to the investigation, or to how people saw our cover story, or even how it would affect the team.” She willed him to understand the things she couldn’t say. That after spending ten years making choices to protect her family, the behavior was hard-wired into her now.

  His expression softened to the one she’d grown to expect when he looked at her. The one she hadn’t known she’d miss until it was gone, and the relief on seeing it again almost made her crumble.

  “You are so much trouble,” he said. “Billions of women on the planet, and you’re the one who keeps me awake at night.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe his own behavior. “You’ve got secrets piled on top of more secrets. You have layers of barbed wire wrapped around you that rip anyone to shreds if they try to get close. And you insist on hiding the best parts of you behind a wall of disdain and disinterest. Why is that, Rachel?”

  “I don’t know.” And she didn’t. Part of it was nature, and the rest was just what she did to survive.

  He let out a scoffing laugh. “Come on, your mom will be wondering what we’re doing in here.”

  Dropping her hand from his arm, she squared her shoulders. “I can’t apologize twice in a decade, but I will make more of an effort to be part of the team.”

  He took her hand and led her out of the bathroom. “Well, here’s hoping your effort doesn’t get us all killed.”

  Really, there was nothing she could say to that.

  It took Elle over an hour to find what they were looking for in Francesca’s office. Through it all, Rachel and her mother sat at the desk she used for paperwork, eating lunch and watching Elle like she was daytime reality TV.

  Harvard would have been amused by their behavior if he hadn’t been busy hunting down his own clues. He’d scanned the room for anomalies but had found no surveillance devices. He had, however, discovered that someone had tampered with the biolock, basically rendering it ineffective. Anyone who pressed their hand to the scanner could unlock the door. How long it had been like that, he didn’t know. It wasn’t something you’d notice unless you tried to get unauthorized access in the first place.

  “Hot diggity dog!” Elle shouted from under the computer desk in the corner of the room. “I’ve got it. I can’t believe how stupid I am. All this time, I’ve been looking for hi-tech answers, like hacking and server tapping, when it was a low-tech heist.” She wriggled out from under the desk with a tiny black box in her glove-clad hand. It was about the same size and shape as a chewing gum packet. They all leaned forward to examine it.

  “What is it?” Francesca asked.

  Elle let out a disgusted laugh. “A Wi-Fi memory card reader. It sets up a Wi-Fi hotspot, a private network essentially, between a couple of computers or phones. Its transmission range is only about twenty meters, and it’s mainly used for transferring files between devices without using a USB port or Bluetooth.” She popped open one of the little slots. “The information’s saved to a micro memory card.” When she held up the card, it was barely the size of a fingernail.

  “Like the cards from our phones or cameras,” Francesca said.

  “Exactly like those. Easy to hide and won’t set off a metal detector.” She glared at the box, as though it’d personally offended her. “This is seriously low-tech. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”

  “How does the box thing work?” Rachel stared at it intently.

  Harvard answered, drawing her gaze, and finding a softer aspect to it than he’d seen before. “Someone would have to set it up on the computer to use it. But basically, all that means is getting the computer to recognize it, then typing in the Wi-Fi password.”

  Elle nodded. “It’d take five minutes at most. Especially if they were lucky enough to catch the computer while it was still running, but before the security screen kicked in. That thirty seconds to a minute or so wait time would be enough to get in there and keep the computer awake long enough to set this up.”

  “And then,” Harvard said, “the box would lie dormant until someone gave it the command to save files from the computer. Triggering the Wi-Fi on the box would knock out the Wi-Fi the machine normally connects to, but it would only be for a matter of seconds. Hiccups that you’d barely notice, Francesca.”

  “Oh, I noticed.” She frowned. “I also complained about the Wi-Fi in here several times over the years. I told them it glitches sometimes. The last time it happened, the head of security and IT, Terrance, came over himself to tell me it was all in my mind. I’ve never liked that man.”

  “Yeah, well,” Harvard said. “It definitely wasn’t your ima
gination. Elle? Is that thing battery powered?”

  She turned it over to look. “Yep. Rechargeable. Judging by its size, I’d say they’d be lucky to get two or three hours out of it before it needed charging again.”

  “But they’d only use those hours in intermittent bursts of just a few seconds, right?” Rachel said.

  “Right.” Elle looked at the box in disgust. “Depending on how often they used it, it could go for months without needing a recharge. Even then, all they’d need to do is plug it into any micro USB port to do it. It’s probably never left this room. If it were me, I’d have charged it here.”

  “How much memory does it hold?” Harvard asked.

  “Total capacity’s five hundred and twelve gigabytes.” She looked up at him. “That’s more than enough space to download the files our thief needs. Hell, you could save all of the Lord of the Rings movies onto these—twice.”

  Harvard turned his attention to Francesca. “During the time Samantha was in here, was she out of your sight at any point?”

  “No, not at all. She’d only been here a few minutes before you arrived, and we spent it chatting about the wedding.”

  “Did she touch your desk or computer?”

  Francesca shook her head. “Definitely not.”

  Rachel looked up at him with an openness he hadn’t seen from her before. “What do we do with it?”

  Elle’s head almost shot off her shoulders as she swiftly looked from one of them to the other, appearing shocked that Rachel had deferred to him.

  “We dust for prints and swab it for DNA, and then we have Elle replace all of the files with copies she’s edited to make them useless, just in case we lose control of the data.” He looked at Elle. “Make sure you check anything you find against Samantha’s prints first.”

  “And what about after all that’s done?” Rachel pressed.

  “After that, we set up cameras and wait for the thief to return.”

  Francesca almost fell out of her chair with excitement. “I’m going to be part of a sting.”

  “You need to carry on as usual,” Harvard warned. “You can’t do anything that will draw attention to yourself.”

  “I can absolutely do that. My acting is superb. Isn’t it, Rachel?”

  Rachel groaned, and Harvard decided it would be wise to keep his amusement to himself. He was about to wind up their time in Francesca’s office, when Ryan’s voice came over his comm unit. “Harvard? You read me?”

  “Go ahead,” Harvard said, drawing the attention of the women in the room.

  “We’ve got another problem,” Ryan said.

  Chapter Eleven

  “This is ludicrous,” Rachel complained for the twentieth time since Harvard had explained to her that she was the new problem the team faced. “We announced we’re getting married. So what if people are gossiping about us and saying our relationship is fake?”

  “Because,” Harvard said in that same patient tone he’d used since Ryan stuck his oar in, “if people don’t believe we’re in a real relationship, they’ll watch us more carefully, and the chances of our cover being blown become a whole lot higher.”

  Rachel glared out of the window of the taxi, into the night, as they sped through London’s streets. Going who knows where, because Harvard had said it was a surprise. An activity that would help them. If it was couples counseling for their fake relationship, she would smack him silly.

  “We’re here,” he said as the taxi pulled over.

  Rachel let out a groan. He’d brought her to Brixton, of all places. At night. In the dark. And it wasn’t even a good part of Brixton—if there was such a thing—it was a backstreet behind the train station.

  “Come on,” he said, climbing out of the taxi and holding the door for her.

  “I’d rather not.” Rachel stayed put.

  From what she could see, graffiti covered every wall around her, and it wasn’t Banksy. No, this wasn’t art of any kind. It looked like a three-year-old had just learned to spell their name and decided to scrawl it everywhere.

  “You’re being pathetic,” he said with a grin.

  “Are you getting out or not?” the driver demanded.

  With a huff, she climbed out of the car and watched it drive away.

  “If I’d wanted to visit a third-world country,” she said, “I’d have gone back to Scotland. Why did I agree to come here with you?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out.” Harvard smiled at her. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, which he’d left untucked over faded jeans. If there had been a style called sexy casual, then he’d be the walking embodiment of it.

  She, on the other hand, wore a black cocktail dress with a cute flared skirt and her usual heels. Harvard had told her to dress casual and flirty, suggesting she wear jeans. Seeing as she didn’t own any, the dress was the best she could do.

  “So, tell me then,” he said. “Why did you agree to come with me tonight? I expected you to put up more of a fight.”

  “You were there for our conversation this afternoon, weren’t you? I promised to make more of an effort. I didn’t promise I wouldn’t complain while I did it.”

  “And I appreciate it. The effort part, that is.”

  Placing a hand on the small of her back, Harvard guided her toward a gate between two rundown tenement buildings. Goodness only knew what she was stepping in as they approached it; there was a distinct lavatory smell to the place.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said as he opened the gate. “Whatever we’re doing here, there has to be another way we can work on being more physically comfortable with each other. I know, why don’t we go back to my apartment and have sex? It would be more sanitary.”

  “As attractive as that proposition is, this will be fun too.” He took Rachel’s hand in his, engulfing hers, the warmth of his touch shooting up her arm. “Besides, you aren’t ready to sleep with me. Yet.” He waggled his eyebrows before stepping in front and leading her down the alley between the buildings.

  “Your ego knows no bounds, does it?” she said.

  Harvard shrugged. “I’m a big man. I have a big ego.”

  She wasn’t going to touch that comment. Instead, she concentrated on following him down the narrow alley without brushing against the walls. Who knew what she’d pick up if she did?

  “Is this really necessary?” she asked. “I’m touching you now, and look, no wincing.”

  “Yeah, because you’re too worried about catching something from just being in Brixton to worry about anything else.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Rachel, you have issues.”

  She honestly couldn’t argue with that, so she said nothing. Without warning, he stopped and turned into a nondescript doorway with something written on it in Spanish. He pushed it open and stepped inside.

  “Careful,” he said. “We’re going downstairs.”

  “We’re going underground? In Brixton? Are you crazy? There are probably rats.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He was laughing at her.

  “I am perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

  “Then, you can protect me.”

  Irritating man. “And who’ll protect you from me?”

  “Rachel, I don’t want to be protected from you. So do your worst; I welcome it.”

  Before she could cut his oversized ego down to a more manageable size, he pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairs, and they entered a small cloakroom area.

  “Harvard!” A young woman ran around the counter to throw herself at him.

  Harvard dropped Rachel’s hand to catch the stranger, annoying her more than was reasonable, but she put it down to being out of her element. Which extended about a two-mile radius from her Kensington home.

  “Where have you been?” the woman demanded. “We’ve missed you.” Honestly, if she pouted any harder, Rachel was going to smack her.

  “Been doing spy stuff, Jenny. But I’m back now,” Harvard said.


  Rachel couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Do you tell everyone you were a spy? Didn’t your government swear you to secrecy?”

  He extricated himself from Jenny and wrapped an arm around Rachel’s waist to tug her into his side. “I’m retired. I can tell whoever I like.”

  Hmm, now that she thought about it, he never gave any details, and he always joked around about his previous career. No doubt, everyone thought he was making it up. Sneaky man.

  “Who’s this?” Jenny asked loudly, and somewhat snarkily, making it clear she had a baby crush on Harvard.

  “This is my fiancée,” Harvard said. “Rachel, meet Jenny. Her parents own this club.”

  “Fiancée?” Jenny’s voice went into dog-whistle territory.

  “Yes,” Rachel gushed. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She’d had enough of the teen. Looking up at Harvard, she patted his stiff, muscled stomach—and he said she never touched him. Honestly, all this drama over nothing. “Come along, darling. You promised me a fun night out.”

  His eyes sparkled at her, as though he was getting a kick out of everything she said and did. “Gotta go,” he told Jenny. “A promise is a promise.”

  Once they were out of earshot, Rachel smacked those same muscles. “Why are you introducing me as your fiancée?”

  “Rachel,” he purred, “a good spy knows you never break cover once you’re established. Now, stop asking questions and try to relax.”

  He threw open the double doors and led her into a large, dimly lit room. Dotted around the area nearest her was an odd assortment of wooden tables and chairs. Faded posters covered the walls, advertising everything from soap to tequila in Spanish. In the corner stood a well-stocked bar, with orange and pink neon signs above it that read Dance, Love, Live. And on the far side of the room was a packed dance floor.

  Rachel gaped at it. “We’re salsa dancing?” Did he not know her at all?

  “No, Rachel, we’re Bachata dancing. It’s like salsa, only a whole lot slower, and a whole lot sexier. You ready to have some fun?”