by Raven Scott
“Hi, everyone,” she began, speaking softly into the mic. “My name is Nia James. As Bud said, I live in Boston now, but I was born and raised in Detroit.”
“The D. 313!” someone yelled from the audience. Everyone else laughed, and Nia smiled as she looked out at the small sea of faces. This isn’t so bad, she thought.
“That right, the 313!” she acknowledged, settling the guitar into her lap and checking the tuning as she talked. “As a kid, I had a crazy obsession with anything early Motown. It drove my mom crazy. Anyway, soul music is a huge influence in what I write, so I’m excited to share my songs with you tonight.
“I should add that this is my first time performing in a very long time, so be kind.” Several people laughed some more. “I hope you enjoy my performance.”
Then Nia closed her eyes and strummed the initial cord.
The first song was the hardest. It was the one she had written in the days after believing Evan had used her as part of the Fortis investigation. The words were deep, emotional, speaking of pain and betrayal. It described a man who wore a mask, played a character in their love, but who wasn’t real. It ended bleak and lonely as she walked away from the false promise of love. The final note hung in the air for a few seconds before the crowd started clapping loudly, cheering at times, with a few people standing up.
Nia looked out to find Evan. His chair was empty. Lucas caught her eyes, and gave her an encouraging smile, nodding to say it would be okay. Then Nia looked around to see Evan’s back as he made his way through the tables toward the direction of the bathrooms at the back of the club. She let out a deep breath, anxious to know what he was thinking, feeling.
But the crowded quieted, and there was no time to ponder it more.
“Thank you,” she told them all sincerely, smiling as the Fortis table cheered loudly again. “The next song is for Evan, the man who showed me how to get unstuck in life.”
The second was lighter, with a jazzier feel. It spoke of the freedom on the other side of fear, where she realized anything was possible if you were willing to take the chance. The words described the powerful feelings of love, hope, and trust that made all dreams possible, and all desires attainable. It ended by declaring her love to the man who freed her from being held back by fear.
The audience went wild, with almost all on their feet. As she bowed her head with acknowledgment, her heart racing with the incredible feeling of accomplishment, Nia tried to find Evan in the crowd. Then, as everyone began to sit back down, she spotted him standing in the back of the club, leaning against the wall. Their eyes met, and though his expression was firm and stoic, his eyes burned with intensity. He’d heard her message loud and clear. Nia smiled, feeling one hundred pounds lighter, freer than she could remember.
She took a deep breath and spoke into the mic again.
“I have one more song for you. This one is a little different,” she teased with a flirty wiggle of her eyebrows.
Then she launched into a faster rhythm with a more bluesy sound. It was sexy and seductive, using suggestive words and provocative phrases. Nia sang of wanting to be touched, needing to please, ready to explore. She described the taste, touch, smell of passion, and the crazy thirst that was never truly quenched. It was the racy, intimate blueprint to a woman’s desire.
The audience was silent for a few seconds after the final note echoed around the room, until Nia felt panic start to bloom in her stomach. Then the claps started, increasing in speed and volume until everyone was up in a standing ovation. She shook her head, hardly able to believe the response. The cheering continued and her eyes filled with tears as Nia realized what this meant.
There were no more barriers or confines to who she could be or what she wanted to do. No matter what happened in the future, Nia was going to be okay. She was finally free.
Chapter 31
From the moment she walked on the stage, Evan was transfixed. The surprise of her being here in Virginia and having his friends from Fortis there with them faded pretty quickly. Nia was always beautiful. But up there, sitting with a guitar, teasing the audience, made her vivacious and enthralling. She was born for music.
Evan knew she could sing and play the piano, so he wasn’t surprised by her talent. Her ability wasn’t to carry a tune well, or play the guitar expertly; it was in using words to convey hair-raising emotion. The music was only the vehicle to deliver the experience. And he was in awe.
As the crowd finally settled down after her first performance, Evan was overwhelmed. He listened to Nia sing in that rich soulful voice, with such heart-wrenching passion, and every single word cut him to the quick. They were honest and painful; reminding him of all the ways he had hurt the person he cared most about in the world. By the end of it, Evan felt raw and exposed.
Unable to remain contained surrounded by his friends, he stood abruptly, pushing his way through the crowd. In the bathroom, he wiped down his face and attempted to get a grip on his frayed emotions. He was heading back to the table when Nia dedicated the second song to him, and Evan had been rooted in that spot by the rear wall for the remainder of her performance. The last two songs told him everything he’d wanted to hear, and echoed all the words in his heart.
Finally, she stepped down from the stage, walking around the tables as people stopped her to express their enjoyment. Her face glowed, and her eyes sparkled. Evan swallowed past the lump in his throat and made his way back to his woman. His friends got to her first, each hugging and kissing her cheeks, all clearly blown away by her talent. Finally, it was just the two of them standing as the club manager took the mic to thank Nia and offer an open invitation to return anytime. Evan heard it in the background but his eyes held hers, and neither was able to pull away.
He reached out for her hand. She gave it freely, then allowed him to all but drag her out of the club.
“Wait,” she demanded once they were outside, laughing from the rush. “We can’t just leave. We have to say bye to your friends.”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling her into his arms.
“No we don’t. I’m sure they know what comes next.”
She raised a brow, still smiling widely.
“Really? And what comes next, Ice?” she teased, settling into his embrace so their bodies were sealed tight.
“You tell me what I’ve wanted to hear since I kissed you that first time,” he growled low, near her ear.
“Really? Since then?” she asked, her eyes widening with surprise.
“Pretty much,” he muttered in a low, husky tone.
“Hmmm. And what exactly is it that you want to hear? That I want you?” Nia whispered back, her lips brushing his neck, causing shivers down his spine.
“I like that, but it’s not it, Nia.”
“No? Then what?”
“You know what,” Evan countered, feeling his heart swell with anticipation.
“That I want to be with you, even if it’s in Alexandria, if that’s what you want?”
Evan smiled, liking that statement too.
“That’s nice, I’m sure we’ll work out the details. But that’s not it, either,” he insisted. “Tell me, Nia. I need to hear it. It’s the only thing that matters.”
She nuzzled under his jaw, driving him nuts with her touch.
“I love you, Evan Iceman DaCosta,” she finally declared.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he whispered back before finally kissing her sweet lips. Those were the words that gave him the life he wanted, with her forever.
“By the way, it’s just Ice,” he clarified a short time later, when they came up for air.
She smiled.
“Really? I like Iceman better. You should think about changing it. It’s a bit more superhero-ish, like Superman.”
“It’s Ice. And it’s not changing.”
He took her hand as they separated, walking toward the car.
“That’s right, you’re a Thor fan,” she shot back, sarcastically.
> “I’m not a fan, I just think he would beat Superman, that’s all.”
“All right, whatever. Maybe we should get you one of those magic hammer thingies so you can create your own thunder and lightning.”
Evan grinned, flashing deep dimples.
“Baby, you’ve already seen my hammer. The thunder and lightning always follow.”
Her snort of laughter echoed into the night.
Don’t miss the next thrilling book in the Fortis series,
Hard and Fast
Available in January 2016!
Chapter 1
Lucas Johnson strode purposefully through the entrance of an apartment building in downtown Chicago. While he looked casual and relaxed in dark blue jeans and a lightweight charcoal jacket, his eyes were sharp and alert. A pretty, full figured woman passed him in the lobby, giving him an open look of interest and appreciation. At six feet, two inches with a lean, athletic build, he was hard to miss. Lucas flashed her a broad, flirty grin and she winked back. His pretty face and disarming smile suggested a naughty playboy, not a brilliant and lethal former-government agent.
“How far are you from the target?”
The question came from Raymond Blunt through the tiny earpiece in Lucas’s ear. Raymond was an agent at Fortis, the full solution security and asset protection firm owned and managed by Lucas and his two best friends Evan DaCosta and Sam Mackenzie. They had a team of twenty-two highly trained and experienced field specialists, technicians, and operations analysts with experience from all branches of elite government service.
Lucas had three men with him on the ground for this assignment. Their objective was to shut down a small-time blackhat hacker named Timothy Pratt who had infiltrated their clients secure computer system with a complicated Trojan Horse program.
“We’re inside, heading into the staircase,” advised Lucas.
The other two Fortis agents were entering the building from other access points, and linked into the connected earpieces.
“Okay, the signal is coming from the fifth floor,” confirmed Raymond from his position providing surveillance support from their truck parked down the street. “According to the building schematics, you’re looking for the third unit on your right, from the West staircase.”
Lucas was now at the base of the staircase closest to him.
“Ned, you take the East stairs,” he instructed. “Lance, take the elevators and I will approach the target from my end. We’ll converge on the apartment door. I’ll make contact, with both of you as back-up in the wings.”
“Got it,” confirmed Ned Bushby. Like Lucas, he was a former Secret Service agent.
“Confirmed,” added Lance Campbell, an ex-Army Ranger.
Lucas ran up the staircase, two steps at a time. The hall on the fifth floor of the building was empty, except for Lance as he exited the elevator. Ned came through the other exit door only seconds later. The three men crept swiftly and quietly to apartment 514. Ned and Lance took positions next to the door, hands hovering near the grips of their concealed pistols. Lucas gave them both a signal with his hand, and knocked.
There was no answer.
The men looked at each other. Lucas knocked again.
“There’s no answer, Raymond,” Lucas stated in the earpiece.
“Well, the system’s on and running, so it may be an automated program,” Raymond replied. He came to Fortis after twelve years with the NSA, and next to Lucas, was their top systems and security specialist.
“Do we have any activity from the target?” asked Lucas, in a whisper.
“No, no cellular phone usage since nine forty-three a.m.,” Raymond confirmed. “And the phone’s GPS signal is still in the apartment.”
It was now almost eleven-fifteen on Friday morning. Lucas looked at his two men, putting up two fingers to indicate their plan B. He then took out a small, pointed tool from his back pocket, picking the standard residential lock in twelve seconds. The deadbolt took another ten seconds. The three men slipped into the apartment silently, guns drawn and ready for any situation. They quickly fanned out from the front entrance into the small, messy studio apartment, checking in the closets and bathroom. The abandoned food containers and discarded clothing everywhere suggested the place was well occupied, but there was nobody home. A laptop was set up on the kitchen counter.
“Raymond, we’re in,” Lucas confirmed. “The computer is here.”
“Boss,” stated Lance from the living area. “He couldn’t have gone far. His cell phone and wallet are on the coffee table.”
Lucas nodded. He was already turning on the laptop to assess the tech.
“Let’s be out of here in ten minutes,” he told Ned and Lance. “You guys see if you can find any info that can identify his motives. I’ll need at least seven minutes to clone the system and shut down the Trojan.”
He did a quick inspection of the equipment, a standard, off-the-shelf laptop connected to a wireless modem. The operating system was another story. Lucas quickly bypassed the secure login and accessed the system administrative functions before connecting a small jump drive to one of the USB ports. It was a sophisticated program that he had designed, meant to wirelessly transmit a cloned version of the desktop, operating system and hard drive of the target system. It also left behind a passive rootkit software that would allow Lucas and the Fortis team undetected access to the computer and connected networks.
“Raymond, I’ve started the clone,” he advised.
“Yup, the data is coming through here,” Raymond confirmed through the earpiece.
“Good, we’re at forty percent transmission. It should be done in three minutes.”
Lucas did a few more configurations to the programming code in the admin program, then backed out of the system, and erased all traces of his presence until not even the most elite intrusion detection specialist could sniff his activities. He put the computer back in sleep mode just as the data transfer was complete.
“Got it, Lucas,” noted Raymond. “The info looks complete.”
“Good. We’ll be out of here in one minute.” He turned to the other agents as they completed their careful search of the apartment. “Anything?”
“Nothing,” Lance replied.
“I got this,” added Ned, holding up a couple of empty, used bank envelopes. “Whatever Pratt’s up to, he’s being paid in cash.”
The team did one final sweep to ensure their presence would be undetected. Then they exited, locking the door behind them and split up to meet with Raymond at their rented truck a block down the street. Ten minutes later, they were headed out of the city back to the Fortis chopper grounded at a private heliport fifteen miles outside of the Chicago city limits.
“So, what are we dealing with here, Lucas?” asked Lance. “From what we saw, Pratt looks more like a messy college kid than a corporate hacker.”
“He is a kid,” added Raymond. “He just graduated from John Hopkins a year ago, with mediocre grades and an unremarkable college life. Up until January, he was doing tech support at Best Buy in Maryland.”
“So what happened three months ago and why’s he in Chicago trying to break into the computer network at Magnus Motorsports in Toronto?” continued Lance.
“Hactivism maybe?” asked Ned.
“I don’t think so,” Lucas replied. “Magnus is a relatively small player in custom race car components. Their latest project is a high-performance, fuel efficient hybrid engine. Not really something to upset any political or social groups.”
“When Marco Passante hired us last year to set up a secure computer network and data back-up system, was it just the timing of their new technology, or was he worried about a particular threat?” Raymond questioned, referring to the President and owner of Magnus.
“Last summer, he suggested their technology had the potential to be revolutionary, and highly coveted in the auto industry,” Lucas told them. “He talked about general concerns that his competitors would try to steal or destroy the
work.”
“Well, Pratt’s not good enough to have built the Trojan we just shut down. He has no online portfolio or footprint to suggest he’s an active hacker,” Raymond added. “Looks to me like someone has set him up as a script kiddie for several months to go after information that has to be worth a big return on the investment. So either Passante had great foresight, or there is more to this client engagement than we thought.”
“Raymond, my man, you’ve read my mind,” Lucas concurred as they arrived back at the small airport in north suburban Chicago. “Once they’ve detected that we’ve shut down this attack, whoever’s funding Pratt will have to find another way to get what they’re looking for. Since the full Magnus network is self-contained in a local, private UPN within their building in Toronto, any additional attacks will be directed onsite. So, I need to have a more transparent conversation with our client, and re-scope this project.”
They all piled out of the rented truck and began loading up their chopper.
“Question,” interrupted Lance while they worked. “What the hell is a script kiddie?”
Lucas and Raymond exchanged looks of disgust.
“How do you not know this stuff?” demanded Raymond with a shake of his head.
“Because I’m not a geek,” the ex-Ranger shot back.
Lucas grinned, and Raymond shrugged since neither was the least bit offended.
“A script kiddie, or a skiddie is not skilled enough to design their own programs,” explained Lucas. “So, they use tools and scripts built by other hackers.”
“Got it,” Lance replied, looking even less interested in tech-talk than before. “So maybe Pratt’s just a lackey here. Maybe we should be looking for the person that developed the program he used.”
“Not necessary. I already know who designed the Trojan program,” Lucas stated with a dry smile. “It’s called AC12 and it’s been around for a while.”
The others looked at him with various degrees of surprise.