Zero Hour

by Megan Erickson

Wren’s hand brushed his arm as she passed. When he glanced up at her, he saw the old Wren for a moment. The one with the innocent smile, who saw him and noticed his inner turmoil when no one else did. Then, in a moment, it was gone, lost beneath the click of her boots as she made her way over to Marisol.

  He thought belatedly he should have complimented Wren. Told her she looked nice. Smelled nice. Did something new with her hair. Wasn’t that how to treat women? He’d never been good at it. Lately, he relied on his tattoos and moderately attractive face to get women into bed. Wooing one? Fuck if he knew how to do that.

  Wait, there’d be no wooing. None at all. He shook his head. Enough with the distractions. It was time to rally the troops.

  He walked over to the table and stood at the end, drawing his laptop from his bag and placing it gently in front of him. Everyone took a seat except for Marisol, who still sat on the table, watching him.

  He took a deep breath. “So—”

  A door banged open, the sound like a shot, and every person in the room flinched. Roarke’s heart leaped into his throat as he whirled around to see Dade swagger into the room.

  Roarke’s shoulders dropped in relief. It was just this fucker. He resisted punching Dade in his perfect face. “Nice of you to join us.”

  Dade shrugged, and as he drew closer, Roarke spotted another cut on his eyebrow. What the fuck was this guy doing? He gestured to Dade’s face. “Is whatever you’re doing that’s making you bleed going to interfere with this mission?”

  Dade leaned against the wall beside the table, purposefully not taking a seat. “Nope.” His eyes scanned the table before landing on Wren, and then his lips split into a grin. “Hey there, Wren.”

  Marisol straightened. “Roarke said no frater—”

  “Everyone just shut up, for fuck’s sake,” Roarke growled. “Swear to God, this is like herding cats.”

  “Well,” Erick pointed out, “we’re your cats. That you handpicked from the shelter. So that’s on you. I prefer wet food by the way.”

  “My catnip is for medicinal purposes,” Marisol piped up.

  Roarke breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth before he committed multiple homicide. “All right, enough. I gotta go over why I got you all together. Some of you know the basics, and some of you know next to nothing.” He glanced at Dade, who stared back impassively. “So listen the fuck up, okay?”

  Roarke knew talking about this was going to be like ripping off a Band-Aid, one that took skin with it. He opened the laptop in front of him and tapped some buttons. An image projected onto the far wall. He ignored the oohs and ahhs as he focused on a picture of the graying, skinny, sallow-skinned motherfucker who killed Flynn.

  “This is Arden Saltner, owner of the computer security software company Saltner Defense. Two years ago, my brother, Flynn Brennan, decided he wanted out of hacking and was hired at SD in their research department.”

  He flashed the company logo. “His job was to analyze possible viruses and malware so SD could protect their clients from those threats. Everything was fine until he discovered a previously unknown zero-day vulnerability in the latest release of the QuartzSoft Operating System.”

  He glanced around and found most people nodding, but he needed to explain everything so there were no team members left behind. “A zero-day is a weakness that is unknown until after a product launches, which gives developers zero days to fix it.” He tapped another button. “Some companies, like the developer of the operating system Flynn found, offer bounties for a zero-day. Flynn took his findings to Saltner—as he was supposed to do based on the rules in his department—who said he’d take care of it and notify QuartzSoft. This was important because this vulnerability allowed a hacker to access personal information from OS users, like credit card numbers.”

  He took a deep breath. “All of this we know because Flynn told Erick. The rest of what we know is based on what I pulled from Flynn’s hard drive after he died.” He tapped away again, pulling up several screenshots. “Flynn inquired about the result of his zero-day findings with Saltner in an e-mail dated December 18, two months before his death. The response was from Saltner himself, who said QS had been notified. A month went by, and Flynn did some checking on his own, discovering the vulnerability hadn’t been fixed. He contacted a friend, Matthew Dominguez, who is an employee at QS, and he informed Flynn that QS was never told about this vulnerability. They dug deeper and found that the zero-day was being sold on the black market for three million dollars.”

  The room filled with whispered curses. Even Dade winced and rubbed his face with his hand. The black market for hackers was infamous. Anything and everything was up for sale—credit card information, IDs, and zero-day vulnerabilities that even a low-level hacker could exploit for financial gain.

  Jock spoke up, his voice gruff. “So Saltner put the zero-day up for sale rather than taking it to QuartzSoft and collecting their paltry bounty.”

  “QS offers like… maybe five figures for their zero-days,” Erick said.

  He pulled up a picture of a young man with glasses. “That’s Matthew Dominguez. During his last conversation with Flynn, my brother informed him that the seller was Saltner. Their code name for Saltner was Evelyn, after the Angelina Jolie character in Salt.”

  Roarke pressed another button, swallowing around the lump in his throat and breathing through the tightness in his chest. The images on the wall went dark. “That was the last communication from either of them. Three hours later, Matthew was killed in a single-car crash. And approximately six hours after that, Flynn was found with a bullet in his head.”

  Marisol shook her head while Dade stared at the blank wall. Wren was crying silently, her shoulders shaking. Erick stood behind her, biting his lip while rubbing her shoulder. And Jock looked…Well, his face never really changed, but there was something like anger simmering beneath his tanned complexion.

  Roarke wanted to take his computer and throw it against the wall. Instead he quickly deleted the files permanently from his hard drive.

  He took a minute to get himself under control while his team processed this information. Then he raised his head and spoke around gritted teeth. “I brought you all together because you are the most talented hackers I know. Whether I trust you with my life”—he glanced at Dade, who kicked up his lips into a smirk—“is another story, but it doesn’t matter, because I trust you with code. When I recruited you to this team, you all agreed you wanted revenge for Flynn, and that’s what we’re doing.

  “The mission is twofold. First, we need to find out if the zero-day sold, because if it has, we have a lot of vulnerable people. Then we get dirt on Saltner and take him down.” Just saying the guy’s name tightened Roarke’s chest. “This is dangerous, possibly deadly, and I understand if you want to walk out that door right now. This is your chance, no judgment, to back out and go on with your life.”

  He closed his eyes slowly and opened them to level a look at Wren. Part of him wanted her to stand up and walk out. She didn’t have to get in deeper with Darren. This could all go away for her. She could be safe.

  But the other part of him, the part he wished he could delete off his hard drive, was the bit of him that wanted her to stay because, now that she was back in his life, he didn’t want to let her go.

  She met his gaze steadily, and he wondered if she could see his emotions swirling in his head like a two-toned tornado. Her eyes were dry now, staring back at him with that same defiance she’d shown in the parking lot. She stood up, jerked her chin into the air, and mashed a fist into the table. “I’m in for Flynn.”

  His emotions warred in his heart—having Wren stand up for Flynn was a beautiful thing to see, but knowing this would put her at risk made him want to slam his head into a brick wall. Instead, he nodded at her, and she nodded back, flashing him a brief smile.

  One by one, the rest of the team stood up, echoing her and saying, “I’m in for Flynn.”

  Dade hadn’t moved from
where he stood, still staring at that spot on the wall where Roarke had projected images to plead his case.

  As his team waited silently in the underground room, their fists on the table and their words reverberating off the bare walls, Dade strode over to the table. He licked his lips and brought his fist onto the table with a crash. “In for Flynn, too. So when can we get this motherfucker?”

  Roarke smiled.

  * * *

  Gathering the team was the easy part. Formulating a plan? Not easy.

  It really was like herding cats. Roarke hadn’t chosen the team members for their cooperation skills. Hackers were notoriously solitary, egotistical, and resistant to authority. He quickly reworked his leadership strategy because lording over them like a master coder was only going to piss them all off.

  He had a tentative plan to reach Saltner, but the inclusion of Wren made their job easier, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

  “So lemme get this straight,” Marisol said, tapping her long nails on the table where they all sat. “Pretty bird here is our foot soldier. She’s gonna peddle her ass to Darren—”

  “There’ll be no ass peddling,” Roarke growled.

  Marisol lifted her eyebrows but kept talking. “And get dirt to use against Saltner.”

  Erick cleared his throat. “We want to ruin the fucker. Wren getting in with the family will give us access to information we can’t get remotely.”

  Roarke watched Wren carefully, scanning her body for any sign of nerves. When he saw her fingers shake a little before she clasped them and shoved them into her lap, he was relieved. Nerves were good; it meant she understood what this meant, that it wasn’t some game.

  It still didn’t ease his conscience over her being involved though.

  Dade leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. “Is the ultimate goal to make Saltner disappear or to turn him over to the police?”

  “Police,” Roarke said quickly. “As much as I want to tie cement blocks around his ankles and throw him in the middle of the fucking Atlantic, I care more about watching him go down for a computer crime or homicide.”

  “So we’re going to gather information on him, showing he committed a crime, and hand it over to the police?”

  “That’s the plan.” Dade knew of Roarke’s refusal to kill anyone. Roarke had been close once, so close to doing it, and he wondered all the time whether he would have regretted it if Mother Nature hadn’t take care of it for him first.

  Dade narrowed his eyes. “You’re willing to trust the justice system to get revenge for your brother?”

  Roarke clenched his teeth. After what he’d done in his teens, he’d vowed to be as lawful as possible. Killing Saltner was pretty far off that vow. “I have to. I just have to.”

  Dade was silent for a long moment. “And what if we can’t pin anything on him?”

  Roarke rapped his knuckles on the table. He’d deal with his morals if that was the only way they could take Saltner. “Then we figure something else out.”

  Dade smiled, his evil grin sending chills down Roarke’s spine.

  Marisol was watching Dade with raised eyebrows. “Well, aren’t you a scary mofo.”

  Dade blew her a kiss, and Marisol ran her tongue over her lip seductively.

  “Christ,” Roarke said. “You all need to get laid, then come back. The hormones in here are making me antsy.”

  “You’re just mad Korean Princess over there has a date with your sworn enemy.” Marisol looked at her nails, refusing to make eye contact.

  “Okaaaay,” Erick interrupted, which was good, because Roarke wanted to throttle Marisol with his bare hands. “Let’s all go home, get some rest, and come back tomorrow same time.”

  Jock was the first to get up, probably over the shit show that was forcing him to be around people. Marisol shrugged and hopped off the table, linking arms with Wren as they walked to the door. Wren glanced back at Roarke, but he couldn’t read her face, and within seconds she was out the door.

  He blew out a breath and tugged on his hair. Across the table, Dade was watching him intently. “This could be bigger than Saltner, you know.”

  Roarke nodded. “I realize that.”

  Dade opened his mouth like he was going to say more but then closed it. “All right then.”

  “I don’t have the answers. And I don’t even have a solid plan,” Roarke said. “I know that’s fucked up, but Flynn is dead, I have a trail, and I’m going to fucking follow it until I can’t anymore.”

  Dade chewed his lip before standing. “I understand. See you tomorrow.” He nodded at Erick before opening the door and letting it slam shut behind him.

  Roarke steepled his fingers and squinted at his best friend. “Why do I have this sinking feeling in my stomach?”

  Erick kicked a chair leg in front of him. “Because this is a clusterfuck.”

  “You were supposed to say, ‘Gee, Roarke, this is all going according to plan.’”

  Erick snorted and glanced up, blinking through his bangs. “You know I’m not happy about this Wren thing either, right?”

  “I know.”

  “But this is her choice.”

  “I know that, too.”

  Erick was quiet for a moment. “We can protect her. But I think…she’s gotta do this. For herself. No matter the outcome.”

  Nothing made Roarke as bitter as when he wasn’t in the know. “What exactly has happened with Wren the past ten years?”

  Erick eyed him. “Man, that’s her business.”

  Right, and so it wasn’t Roarke’s.

  “Look, we have a good team.” Erick said the words like he was trying to convince both of them. “A team and an underground bunker. What else do we need, really?”

  Roarke leveled Erick with a glare. “A well-developed plan would be nice.”

  Erick’s lips shifted to the side. “Oh yeah, well, that.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Wren didn’t have a chance to call Darren.

  He called her first.

  She didn’t ask how he got her number, but any decent hacker could have found a cell for Lacy. The apartment bills were all in her alias’s name. Still, it creeped her out.

  Darren’s voice was slick as oil, and just as greasy, dirty, and stained with blood. “We were interrupted last night.”

  “That was your fault, not mine.” Coy was not her default, and just playing the part made her a little nauseous.

  “I’m sorry about that, Angel.”

  Oh fuck, he had a pet name for her. Bile rose in her throat. “It’s okay. I’m sure you’ll make up for it.” Ugh, she was baiting him now. She needed to make sure she kept her wits about her when she was with him. She had a job to do. She wasn’t a distraction, she was an information extractor.

  He laughed. “Oh, I will. We have reservations at Belview for Saturday.”

  Belview was a fine-dining restaurant his father owned. Interesting…“That sounds lovely.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Oh, and Angel?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like you in red.” Then he hung up.

  She gagged and clutched the phone until the edges dug into her palms. Catching the eye of Darren Saltner was both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to her.

  She’d have to think of a way to keep Darren’s hands off her. She’d do her job, but she sure as hell didn’t want to sleep with Darren. If it came down to that…she shuddered. She’d deal with it when the time came. That was just another reason to stay away from Roarke. This job could potentially ruin them before they ever began.

  Wren inhaled deeply. She could deal with Darren. Dade had trained her and trained her well. He’d also never once hit on her, so it was clear his flirty greeting was just to rile Roarke. She’d have to talk to Dade about that, because he actually listened to her. Sometimes. Maybe because she knew more about him than most people.

  Even whe
n she thought ahead, trying to picture how this would all shake out on the other side, there were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong or be altered permanently. So she couldn’t console herself with promising to pursue anything with Roarke when this mission was over. Depending on how deep this went, this mission might never be over.

  She had to deal with a slimeball, yet it was the one thing that finally forced Roarke to notice her.

  Her leg still tingled from Roarke’s touch.

  But dwelling on the way her body responded to Roarke’s proximity was not something she had time for as she sat in a secluded corner of a coffee shop. She eyed her lukewarm chai latte on the table in front of her and considered asking the barista to warm it up for the third time. But it was nearly closing time so she decided against it. She settled back into the frayed recliner, laptop on her crossed legs.

  After the meeting that morning, she’d returned to her apartment in Mount Pleasant to get out of the clothes she’d worn earlier. The clothes she’d slipped into while thinking of Roarke—she smiled remembering the way his eyes had dipped to her cleavage before darting away—but now she pulled her hair into a knot on the top of her head and changed into a pair of high-top sneakers, gray sweatpants, and a white tank top.

  She’d thought about going to her brother’s place, because he’d always been a source of comfort to her. But all these years of keeping secrets—while he lived as a hacking consultant—had strained their relationship.

  Their parents were loving but often stifling, as first-generation Korean Americans often were. They still lived in Pennsylvania, where they’d all grown up. Her parents had been ecstatic when she graduated college and began to travel the world. They proudly displayed all her magazine articles and told their friends her byline proved she was famous. They had no idea she had an alter ego named Seocheon and that she could write code disabling their house alarm in under an hour. Or what had happened to her and Fiona. The only reason she’d been able to finish college was because on paper, as Wren Lee, she wanted everyone to think she was moving on with her life. But she hadn’t done that at all.