by Cynthia Eden
She threw open the driver’s side door. “Are you insane?” Her voice had reached an incredible pitch.
Since she was out of the vehicle—though she’d left it idling—he lifted his hands and took a few steps away from the car.
“You can’t jump in front of a moving vehicle!”
He couldn’t? “Funny, I just did.”
“I could have killed you!”
“Nah, you weren’t going that fast. And, besides, I knew you’d stop. You like me.”
Once more, Vivian shook her head. “I have to go.” She reached for the door handle.
He lunged toward her. Locked his hand around her shoulder and hauled her away from the vehicle and toward him. “Vivian, no—”
The back of the car exploded. The vehicle flew up into the air even as hot flames erupted. The blast sent Chase hurtling back. He tried to keep his grip on Vivian, but she was ripped away from him. He hit the pavement. Rolled. For a moment, he couldn’t hear anything at all.
Then he heard the roar of the flames.
The shriek of nearby car alarms because the blast had triggered their sensors.
He could smell smoke. Ash.
He could—
“Vivian!” he shouted.
Chase jumped to his feet. Staggered. Shit. He righted himself as quickly as possible even as his gaze flew around the area. He was looking for red hair. He was looking for the green t-shirt she’d been wearing. The t-shirt that had matched her eyes. He was looking for—
She was on the ground.
Chase didn’t even remember running to her. One moment, he was searching desperately for her, and in the next, he was kneeling beside her. “Be okay, be okay, be okay,” Chase chanted over and over again.
His shaking fingers went to her throat. Her pulse kicked beneath his touch, and he could breathe. He could let out the desperate air that he’d been holding. Then his fingers were flying over her body as he searched for injuries. Broken bones. Contusions—
“Chase?”
Her voice. Scared. Broken.
His gaze whipped to her face.
“What h-happened?”
He swallowed the fear and fury that burned in his throat. “Someone just tried to kill you.”
***
“Sorry,” Chase rumbled as he stared straight at her. “Stairs aren’t exactly an option here.”
Here…Here would be…the main building that housed the big, bad Wilde security empire. After her car had exploded—OhmyGod, my car exploded!—he’d rushed her away from the scene. Like rushed away as in…gotten her out of there before the cops had even arrived.
And, shouldn’t they have stayed for the cops? Wasn’t that the normal procedure in situations like this one? To stay, to answer questions, to do an entire interview scene? She didn’t know, but running didn’t feel right.
He’d gotten her away from that scene and driven them out of Marietta. Before she’d known it, they’d been surrounded by skyscrapers and he’d told her that she had to go in at Wilde. She’d followed his orders because this was way beyond her normal world.
No one had ever tried to kill her before. If Chase hadn’t gotten her out of the car, if he hadn’t jumped in front of her vehicle…
I would be dead.
“Are you feeling claustrophobic, Viv? Do you need me to distract you? Shit, I have never noticed how slow elevators are until tonight.” His hands curled around her shoulders. “You’re not alone. Everything is okay.”
“I-I’m not feeling claustrophobic.” She should tell him that he could let her go. She didn’t. His warm touch was thawing her ice-cold body. “Why are we here?”
“Because everything has changed. Because they were fucking wrong.”
Who’d been wrong? About what? She couldn’t follow what he was saying. Wait, had she hit her head? It didn’t ache, but she had flown through the air and then landed on the concrete hard enough to rattle her bones.
“The mission goal has to change. Your safety is priority one.”
He wanted to protect her. Got it. That brought her back to—“He intended to kill me all along!”
Chase’s hold tightened on her. “Who did?”
“Th-the man who called me, right before I came to your apartment. He said if I didn’t do exactly what he ordered, I would die.” Actually, he’d said Chase would die, too. He’d said that being a former SEAL wouldn’t do him any good.
I’ll make the fucking SEAL drown in his own blood.
She swallowed. “He lied. He gave me instructions. Told me I had to follow them exactly, but it was all a setup, wasn’t it?”
“Hell, yes, it was a setup. From the word go.”
“He wanted me in my car. He’d wired it to blow.”
A grim nod. “Probably put it on a timer that began as soon as the ignition was started. I figure you were in the car for about three minutes—maybe four—before it blew.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Her stomach was revolting, and her head was spinning.
“Breathe, baby.” His voice was low, soothing.
“I am breathing!” Vivian snarled back. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t in the mood for low and soothing. She was freaking out. Her breath expelled in heaving pants. “Someone is trying to frame me and kill me.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes cracked open. “Things don’t feel okay.”
The faint lines near his mouth deepened. “I’m going to help you. Trust me.”
Her stare darted to the control panel. “Just how tall is this building? The Bank of America Plaza in Atlanta has fifty-five stories, and it’s considered to be the tallest in the city—”
Ding.
Thank God. Her shoulders sagged.
His fingers were still around her. “Whatever happens, I need you to trust me.”
He was being so nice to her. So caring. His care made her feel even worse. “You almost got killed because of me. Have you considered that maybe you should be running away from me?”
Chase shook his head. “Not even for a second.”
That warmed her even more—and terrified her. Chase still didn’t know that the caller had threatened him. “Can we please get out of this elevator?”
A jerky nod. He released her shoulders. Turned away. But Chase caught her hand in his. Their fingers threaded together as they walked out and stepped onto some lush carpeting. It was late, and Vivian figured the office should have been closed. When they’d arrived downstairs, they’d been greeted by security guards who’d hurriedly opened the doors for them.
She cast a quick glance toward a waiting area and saw an empty desk. Chase didn’t even slow as he headed past the desk and toward a big, heavy, wooden door. Vivian cleared her throat. “Uh, Chase…”
“My boss is inside. We’ve got a crew together. We’re fixing this shit.”
Fixing it?
At the door, he paused and turned back toward her. “I’m gonna say it again, trust me.”
“My stomach is in knots right now.”
“You didn’t steal the intel.”
“Of course, I didn’t steal the intel!” How were they back to this?
“The two hundred grand isn’t yours.”
“No, it isn’t.” They’d already discussed the money.
“And someone wants you dead because the dead can’t talk.”
She choked down the lump in her throat. “Typically, no, I don’t believe they can. That’s a side effect of being dead.”
His expression hardened even more. “Then we have to make sure you don’t die.”
“I would like that very much, yes,” she agreed.
A curt nod. “You’re getting protection. You’re getting me.”
With his free hand, he opened the door. He strode inside like he owned the place, and Vivian had to follow because he was still holding her hand and—oh, there was a crew assembled in there.
Merik stood to the side. He was dressed casually in jeans and
a t-shirt. His arms were crossed over his chest and his expression was grim. His dragon looked equally grim.
A man in a white dress shirt, with rolled up sleeves and tousled, dark hair rose from his position behind the massive desk that dominated the office. Vivian figured he had to be the big boss, and yes, as she studied him, she realized he matched the image she’d found online. Eric Wilde. The owner of the firm. He looked way more intense in real life than he had in the smiling photo.
A woman sat perched in the chair across from the desk. Her head had turned toward Chase and Vivian, and she studied them with a steady, dark gaze. Her warm olive skin was flawless, and small pearls dotted the lobes of her ears.
Another man stood off to the side, almost slipping into the shadows as he lounged against the wall and watched them.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Chase said and she figured he was addressing everyone who’d been waiting. “Because we have a clusterfuck situation going on.”
Vivian flinched. She was the clusterfuck situation.
“But first…” Chase pointed to the guy lounging in the corner. “Who the hell is that?”
Now Vivian stiffened. She’d figured Chase knew everyone in the room.
Eric Wilde opened his mouth to reply—
“That’s classified,” the man who seemed to love the shadows replied smoothly. “So sorry. Wait, I’m not really sorry.” He rolled one hand vaguely in the air. “Carry on.”
“What?” Chase’s body stiffened even as he kept a tight hold on Vivian’s hand. “Look, this whole case is compromised, and I need to know exactly who I am dealing with before this goes any—”
“I think Vivian should wait outside for a while. We need to go over a few important points,” Eric Wilde interrupted. Then he strode around the desk and headed straight for her. “Actually, my apologies.” His assessing gaze held no emotion as he stopped in front of her. He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes as he offered his hand to her. “I should introduce myself. I’m Eric Wilde, Chase’s boss.”
Yes, she’d figured that out.
Eric slanted a quick glance at Chase. “Since my name is on the business, that means he’s supposed to listen to my orders.”
She pulled her hand from Chase’s. Shook Eric’s hand. “I appreciate Chase taking my case, even though I tried to fire him earlier.”
Eric’s brows pulled together. He appeared bemused. “Excuse me?”
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To go over my case? To figure out who is setting me up?” Her voice cracked a little as she added, “And trying to kill me?”
“That’s why you think you’re here?” The mocking drawl came from the man in the shadows. “How adorable.”
Chill bumps raced over her skin. “I don’t like being called adorable.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Chase snapped. “Now let me ask again. Who the fuck are you?”
Chapter Nine
“What is going on?” Vivian whispered to Chase. Everything felt wrong. She was missing something, she knew it, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
His expression seemed tortured. “Baby…”
“So you’re the lady who survived the car bomb.” The woman’s voice had Vivian’s attention flying back across the room. The lady rose. Moved with grace as she crossed the room. “I believe some Marietta cops I know are looking for you.” Her lips pursed. “I’m Detective Layla Lopez, Atlanta PD. You know, it’s not considered good form to leave the scene of a crime.”
Atlanta PD. “But I didn’t do anything! Someone tried to kill me!”
“She wasn’t just going to sit in the middle of the street like a sitting duck, Layla,” Chase muttered. “I had to get her out of there. For all I knew, someone was waiting to take another hit at her. She needs to be in a safe house, and I have to get her to one, now.”
Safe house? Vivian yanked her hand from Eric’s and whirled toward Chase. “But if I’m in a safe house, how are we going to trace down the criminals? We have to find them! There is only so much time before they manage to get past the scramble that I put into the coding!”
Chase’s brow scrunched. “Scramble? What are you talking about?”
Laughter erupted from the guy who lurked in the shadows. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.”
Her shoulders tensed as she edged closer to Chase. “I don’t think I like him.” A guy who laughed at her and seemed to mock her while he hid in the shadows? Nope. Not on her let’s-be-friends list.
But then the fellow stepped out of the shadows. He moved toward her with a slow, almost cat-like grace. His steps made no sound as he crossed the room. He was tall, muscled but lean, and clad in dark clothes with his hair swept off his high forehead. His gray eyes gleamed with what could have been amusement. A handsome man, if you liked the type. Hawkish nose. Hard jaw. Devil-may-care grin.
The grin was directed at her.
She did not like the type.
“How much time will the scramble buy?” He wanted to know.
“Eric, why is this guy in the room?” Chase demanded.
“I think I told you already,” the mystery man replied. “Classified.” The gray gaze remained on her. “How much time?”
She licked her lips. Calculated. Then decided to hedge with her answer because she didn’t know this jerk. “I can’t be sure. It depends on how skilled the person is who tries to untangle my knots.”
He smiled at her. “Who else knows about your knots?”
“No one. It won’t be discovered until the people who stole the data actually try to find the first agent.”
“And when they do try,” he asked as he tilted his head to better study her, “what happens then?”
“They realize the addresses are wrong. They’re all mixed and jumbled together. The street number for one person was mixed with the road for another, and then that road was paired up with a different city, not the real one, and then that city…I tied it to another country. I switched everything around.” Was she being clear? Her words were coming out so fast. “It’s like when you have all the pieces of a puzzle, but they’re not connected to form the picture. The pieces are just in a big, jumbled pile.” A long exhale. “That’s what I did. I scrambled them into a big, jumbled pile. The data is there, you just have to put it together the right way.”
Silence.
All eyes were on her.
“Huh.”
She shot her stare toward Chase. “What did you figure out?”
“You scrambled the codes.” He nodded. “Because you didn’t trust your boss or maybe you didn’t think he would believe you?”
Maybe both reasons.
“You wanted a safety net didn’t you, Viv?”
“The net isn’t for me. When I first noticed those glitches, I put in an extra layer of protection because I couldn’t leave anyone unprotected. I wasn’t supposed to interfere with the system protocols, but I didn’t have a choice.” Did he understand? “I told you…” Her voice lowered. “The glitches made me nervous. I had to do something, so I came up with a scramble.” Not the right term, but it perfectly described what she’d done. She’d mixed things around. Substituted code. To an outsider, all of the data would seem legit. It wasn’t. Not unless you unscrambled it. To do that, you’d need the right code.
Or the right coder.
“They’ll realize the truth and want you.” This came from the mystery man.
Only she wasn’t so sure his identity was a mystery. When someone appeared and started spouting off about things being classified, that tended to shout one thing to her—
He’s with the agency.
Just how high up was this fellow in the CIA’s chain of command? Her spine stiffened as dread settled in Vivian’s bones.
The CIA guy—had to be CIA—gave her a broad smile. “Guess it’s a good thing they didn’t kill you tonight.”
Her throat was so dry. “I consider it a very good thing that I didn’t die tonight.”
&
nbsp; His lips twitched. “Then we agree it was a win.” He offered his hand. “My friends call me Dex. So do my enemies.”
She stared at his hand. “Have we met before?” Because something about him felt familiar to her. She didn’t take his hand. This man—he wasn’t like Eric. Didn’t ooze that open charm and confidence. The same kind of charm and confidence poured from Chase. No, this fellow was different.
Dangerous. Deadly.
Dex lowered his hand. “I may have seen you before. Let’s just say you attracted my attention.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Chase demanded as he surged toward Dex.
Eric cleared his throat. “Chase, please escort Vivian to the waiting area. Guards will make sure she’s safe while we go over the case.”
“That makes no sense.” Vivian frowned at Eric. “It’s my case. I hired Chase. Why would you kick out the client while you discuss the case?” Who did that? She’d expected more from the Wilde team.
“Uh, Vivian…” Chase began with a cough. “About that…”
Dex laughed. “We do need to clear the air.”
Merik was watching silently, though he had edged closer.
And the detective was studying everything with her careful gaze.
“The Wilde agents weren’t hired by you,” Dex explained to Vivian with a shrug. “They were hired by me. Hired because I wanted them to find conclusive evidence against you.”
A dull ringing filled her ears. Vivian shook her head.
“No?” Dex’s brows rose. “Not understanding? It has been quite the night for you. Don’t worry. I’ll break things down. That will help.”
“Don’t,” Chase snarled.
Dex pointed at Chase. “He’s not on your side. He’s been working for me. Like you, I wasn’t exactly sure who I could trust at the agency, at least, not at the branch where you are employed. I, too, wanted a safety net. We must think alike.”
The ringing in her ears turned into a dull drumming.
“Wilde was my safety net,” Dex added with a careless flick of his hand toward the Wilde boss. “Eric and I go way back, so I knew I could trust him.”