Wicked Rush

by Kym Grosso

  A ding sounded and the doors opened to the stark white interior of the hallway, its blinding bright lights causing her to squint. Composing herself, she looked in both directions before proceeding to her office. On a routine work day, the hallway was filled with the chatter of lab assistants and interns, but today, save for the soft squeak of her shoes, silence echoed throughout the empty space.

  As she reached her office, she stilled, listening for errant noise. While she didn’t hear voices, the distinct sound of shuffling footsteps alerted her that she wasn’t alone. She quickly tapped her card to the reader and entered her office, the motion detection lights instantly illuminating its interior. Braelynn went straight to her desk, sat down and booted up her computer. Just another day at work, she told herself silently. I can do this. I can do this. She reached into her bag, retrieved her bottle of water, sipped it, and set it aside.

  Braelynn glanced up to the fish-eye security camera located in the ceiling, and proceeded to work, all the while knowing she was being watched. She’d run through the scenario a million times in her mind. Retrieve the research. Destroy the remaining files following the instructions Garrett had given her. He’d promised that the sophisticated technology he’d given her would ensure that Bart-Aqua would have no way of recovering the files. In reality, she doubted her uncle or Shane had thought that far ahead. While they invested heavily in the manpower and physical resources, they slipped when it came to ensuring computer security. She was aware of at least one breach in the past month that had occurred in acquisitions, exposing data to customers who shouldn’t have had access.

  Braelynn tapped on her keyboard, opening a few emails, and quickly responded. She opened the report her uncle had asked her to review. It was being sent to a group of investors on Monday, and needed her attention. She glanced to her watch, noting that nearly thirty minutes had passed since she left the car. Ninety minutes. Tick tock. Tick tock. She returned her attention to her screen. Pretending that she was reading, she stared at the words, yet the only thing that ran through her mind was the next steps. Ten minutes passed and she stretched her arms above her head.

  With eyes on her every movement, she casually picked up the water bottle and stood. She glanced at the shriveled Boston fern that hung from the ceiling and shook her head, feigning concern. Reaching onto her tiptoes, she tilted its basket, sliding her fingers into its dry dirt. Braelynn dribbled water into the plant, searching for her hidden prize. Within seconds she located the tiny coin. The size of a dime, it had remained buried yet near the surface. Edging it upward, she carefully lifted it out until it dropped into her palm. As she closed her hand around it, she gave a fake cough, fisting it tightly.

  She reached for a tissue and blew her nose, using the paper to dislodge any dirt around the disc’s surface. Bunching the tissue up into a wad, she threw it into the trashcan, keeping the coin concealed between her fingers. She sat back down at her desk, focusing on the computer. Sliding the small object into her jean pocket, she slowly exhaled, her heart pounding in her chest.

  As she went to close the document, she startled as a knock sounded on her door. Shane. Braelynn calmly lifted her eyes to meet his, unable to conceal her contempt for the man who stood by and did nothing while her uncle killed her pet. When she’d first come to work at Bart-Aqua, she’d mistakenly thought he possessed a soul. With his striking good looks and amber eyes, the women in the office fought over him. Tall and muscular, he’d initially been like a dark angel. She’d observed him performing small acts of kindness on occasion. But Braelynn’s initial instincts had been proved wrong.

  When it came to Armand Giordano, there was no grey area. Watching Shane kiss her uncle’s ass made her ill. Under no circumstances would Shane go against him. Leaving bruises on her arm had dispelled any notions that he could actually be a decent human being.

  “You were supposed to be in here yesterday,” Shane stated.

  “You killed my cat,” Braelynn replied with an icy tone. She supposed she could have pretended to care otherwise, but Shane knew her too well. It would have been out of character to respond any other way, and doing so would have raised his suspicion.

  “I didn’t do it.” He took a step forward.

  A sliver of confusion stabbed through her as she detected a hint of regret in his eyes. But even monsters could disguise themselves behind their beauty. Shane is a monster. A predator.

  “You were there.”

  “I was, but I didn’t do it. Braelynn, I…” Shane appeared to soften but a stern expression swiftly replaced his concern. “You should have learned a lesson. Your uncle wanted you here.”

  “Fuck you. Seriously, Shane. Just get the hell out of my office. I have work to do. I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Braelynn trembled with anger. Tempted to spring up out of her chair and slap him, she gripped the edge of her desk.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Dr. Rollins. I work for your uncle. He wanted you here yesterday. We went back to your place and you weren’t there. So now,” he leaned toward her, flattening his palms on her desk, “I want to know exactly what happened and where the hell you’ve been.”

  Braelynn sucked a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly, then blinked to meet his hard stare. She generally wasn’t a violent person, but after they killed her cat, she wanted to inflict the kind of pain on them that they’d done to her. She glanced to her long silver letter opener and slid her fingers over it, gripping its handle.

  “You…you are the biggest asshole I have ever met,” she began, lifting the sharp knife an inch off the surface of her desk. She saw his eyes dart to her hand but he didn’t move to reach for her. Her voice trembled as she spoke in a slow deliberate manner. “After you killed Benny,” she paused, reaching for a piece of mail and inserting the tip into its crease, “you may not understand this since you and my uncle seem to be devoid of any emotion, but I was devastated. Like any normal person, who had a pet die, I could hardly get up off the floor let alone go into work. So I uber’d my ass down to Mission Beach and got fucked up. Spent the night down there. And before you ask, I don’t know his name. Don’t particularly care either.”

  The envelope tore open as the knife ripped through it. Braelynn hadn’t intended to embellish her story, but she knew he liked her. A flicker of pain registered in his eyes, and she secretly delighted, knowing he’d never have what he wanted.

  “You should have texted. We couldn’t reach you.”

  “Yeah, well. The next time you kill someone’s cat, just remember that you aren’t just killing their pet. You killed a tiny part of me. And no, I am not just going to get over it.” Braelynn shook out the letter, giving it a quick glance before inserting it into the shredder. Her eyes flashed to his and she continued speaking to him, this time with a nonchalant lilt in her voice. “My uncle wants me to work. I just looked at the Mead report, and am getting ready to approve it. But I have some research I need to get to before I leave this hellhole. Is there anything else I can help you with? I’d like to get what I need to get done so I can enjoy what is left of my weekend.”

  “You need to be careful,” he warned, standing tall, his arms at his sides. “Your uncle is a powerful man.”

  Braelynn stared through him to the clock on the wall, her eyes noting the time. She was five minutes over schedule. I’m going to be late. Get out now, Shane. She impatiently tapped her heels, waiting on him to leave.

  “I’m not kidding, Braelynn. You need to watch your step. You understand me? The next time he tells you to get in the office,” he shook his head and turned to leave, “you get in the office. Believe it or not, I don’t want anything happening to you.”

  Braelynn watched in silence as he left. She resisted the urge to bang her fists onto her desk, but instead sucked a breath before quietly releasing it. Standing, she looked around her office, knowing it was the last time she’d ever be here. Any knick-knacks or pictures would remain. If she had her way, her uncle was going down, and everything in his Go
dforsaken building would eventually be destroyed as well. She stood, leaving all her belongings, and set off to collect her research.

  She strode into the hallway as she would have any other day. An inconspicuous glance over her shoulder was the only hint she provided as to her intention. Braelynn’s adrenaline surged as she approached the secured room, noting that her uncle’s mistress, Jeannette, stood flipping through a manila folder outside the secured room. The icy bitch had a heart as dark as coal. A match made in hell, she and her uncle were the perfect couple. He’d killed her cat as punishment but she imagined that Jeannette strangled puppies for fun.

  “Dr. Rollins,” she said, not looking up from her work.

  “Good morning.” Determined, Braelynn hid her emotions.

  “Your uncle was expecting you yesterday.” She raised her lids, giving Braelynn a cold stare.

  “So I hear.” Braelynn balled her fists and dug her fingernails into her palms.

  “Did you review the Mead report?” Jeanette tapped the pen against her chin, delight flickering in her eyes.

  “Yes. I just have to check on something before I give approval.” Braelynn’s entire body went tense, but she forced herself to release the breath she’d been holding and reached for the doorknob. Get in, get out. You’re running out of time.

  “We need it today. It has to go to the client tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have it to you within the hour. Like I said, I’ve got to check on something.”

  “It would be a shame if something happened to you…if you ended up having another accident like you did a few months ago,” she added, turning to leave.

  “Excuse me?” Braelynn’s eyes widened at the veiled threat. Her thoughts spun out of control. Did Jeanette have something to do with my attack? Braelynn fought her rage, attempting to focus on her mission but shock washed across her face. “What did you say?”

  “I think you heard me quite clearly, Dr. Rollins. Just remember, you’ve only been working here for a very short time. Loyal employees remain. The others? Well, you do know the expression, ‘heads roll’?” Jeanette’s expression remained flat, her voice as calm as if she was ordering a sandwich. “The weather here in California is lovely, but the sea? Such a dangerous place, you know. The cliffs, the currents…people go missing all the time.”

  “I’m well aware of what happens on the beach,” Braelynn spat. She gripped the metal knob for dear life, knowing if she let go, she’d lose it and knock Jeanette to the ground. “You’ll have the report in an hour. Give my dear uncle my best.”

  Braelynn turned her attention to the vascular biometric device on the wall. As the yellow light flashed, she placed her finger onto the screen, counting the seconds as it scanned her vein pattern. A click sounded and she opened the door, relieved as it shut behind her.

  She scanned the area, noting the seven security cameras in various locations throughout the room. Making a beeline for the large central file unit, she held her security card to the sensor and waited for the mechanical door to unlock and rise. While thousands of files were kept inside, she knew the exact location of the folder she sought. Flipping through the last shelf on the right, she quickly slipped the half inch sleeve out of the cabinet. Following protocol, she scanned the barcode on its exterior, recording its departure, and waited for the shelving unit to relock.

  Braelynn glanced at her watch, noting the time. Eleven fifty-seven. In exactly twenty minutes, Lars would call the police. A fine sheen broke out on her forehead as she sat at the desk. She fingered the folder, aware that seconds after she left, she’d be at risk. Laying it onto the desk, she spied its embedded security chip that tripped the alarm.

  She set her fingers to the keyboard, typing in her password and ID, and breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the system without an issue. It had only been the third time she’d accessed the file. The first time that she made an attempt, she merely verified the existence of the stolen research and reported it to Garrett. The next time, she’d utilized first generation technology he’d given her, but it had failed, only copying partial files. The second generation single layer cell drive he’d recently provided, was as thin as paper. Garrett had guaranteed her that it would work.

  The lab computers deliberately lacked USB or other ports, so that files could not be imported or exported. Yet the specialized chip was designed with state-of-the-art technology that gave it the capability to secure a connection to any device within five feet, copying files without detection. Special coding within the device erased any evidence that she’d accessed the files. Emerson Industries held the patent on the top secret technology, and its existence had not been disclosed to the general public.

  Braelynn clicked on the Mead files, pretending to scroll through them. Sliding her hand into her jeans pocket, she dug her nail into the coin’s edge, and depressed the mechanism that opened it. When she’d first received it from Garrett, she’d practiced opening it a hundred times in the privacy of her home. It had taken her several attempts before she was able to do it without looking. As it clicked, and she fingered the freed drive, her eyes flared with determination.

  Braelynn blew out a breath, and switched screens. Continuing her task, she tapped the tiny button, activating the device, and prayed it worked. Leaning closer to the desk, she hoped to block the camera’s view of her clandestine activity. Her heart caught as the display flickered, finally retrieving the list she needed. Clicking on HWB614, she counted thirty files. Braelynn set her cursor at number one and double clicked. As each file copied, it lit up in succession. Ten seconds passed, and it moved onto the next one. Running through the math, she realized she needed approximately five minutes, then the elimination program would initiate, scrubbing the server and any virtual locations of the data. At five after twelve, she’d run out of time, and if Jeannette returned, she’d be caught in the act.

  Hurry up, hurry up, she repeated silently, still attempting to appear as if she was reading the report. Nonchalantly, she picked up the folder and began to loosen the pages. Surprisingly, they easily separated from their binding, but as she did so, one fell onto the floor. As she bent to retrieve it, she caught sight of Shane passing by through the door window. Quickly snatching the sheet, she glanced at the list of names of people who appeared to be working with foreign investors. Projects. Dollar amounts. Names. What the hell is this? She glanced to the screen, remembering the download, noting the files had begun disappearing into oblivion. Ten remained. Five. Three. Two. The black display teased her, and she clicked the screen, attempting to find HWB614.

  Braelynn gave a ragged breath at her small victory. Emotion bubbled inside her chest but she shoved it away, maintaining her focus. She glanced to the door. Seeing no one, she closed out her session. Her life was at stake, and she was still inside the walls of Bart-Aqua, a prisoner of her circumstances, but freedom beckoned.

  With the cameras recording, she’d have to perform a sleight of hand: a deliberate accident. She loosed her fingers, the entire folder slipping between her legs. As it fell to the ground, the dislodged contents spilled out. She bent over, her head barely missing the edge of the desk. Reaching for the documents, she tugged the remaining leaflets from the sleeve, and shifted them underneath it. As she sat up, she folded the papers once over. Keeping the folder close to her chest, she slipped the documents under her shirt, giving a firm tuck into her pants.

  Three minutes, and Lars will call the police. She quickly stood, using her key card to open the file cabinet. Haphazardly shoving the emptied folder into its slot, she didn’t wait for it to shut, and headed toward the door. As she wrapped her fingers around the knob, she checked the hallway, making sure no one was watching before heading toward the fire exit.

  Braelynn had ruled out taking the elevator, suspecting that security could suspend it, trapping her. She pushed through the doors to the stairway, aware that eyes in the sky tracked her every move. With the chip in her pocket, she began her descent. She traveled quickly but not too fast, a
ttempting to maintain typical behavior. It wasn’t unheard of for employees to take the stairs. Exercise was encouraged and practically everyone who worked for her uncle was in good shape. She imagined he cherry picked the healthiest and youngest applicants, discriminating but ensuring lower insurance costs.

  By the time Braelynn reached the tenth floor, she had begun to increase her pace. Holding onto the rail, she loped down the steps. Fifth floor. Fourth. Third. Her pulse raced, adrenaline surging through her veins. Soon she was running, noting she was out of time. Twelve seventeen. Her spirits dropped. So close, but not good enough. The police would come for her. There was no explaining her actions. As her feet hit the landing, alarms sounded, and she burst through the exit door, sprinting through the lobby.

  Braelynn flew by the guard, whose back was turned. Her lungs burned, but running out of sheer terror, she pressed onward. As she slammed through the front entrance doors, shots rang out, whizzing past her head. Sucking air, she didn’t look back as she tore down the path to the parking lot. She spied the black SUV fifty feet away. Lars shouted to her but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Bullets sprayed into the air, and she covered her ears. The trauma of her terrifying ordeal on the beach flooded her mind. Anger and determination set in and she began to run even harder, her thighs searing.

  She ducked as bullets ricocheted off a steel lamp post. The passenger door flew open, and she dove into the car, grasping at Lars’ waist. The car jolted forward, and the door flapped open. She leaned out, reaching for the handle. Her fingers slipped and she cried out in frustration.

  “Leave it!” Lars yelled as they barreled toward the gate. The guard stepped in direct line of being hit, firing off shots at the front of the car.