by Shelly Bell
Logan threw his arm over her shoulders and tugged her into him, kissing the top of her head. “We won’t let that happen.”
The weight of the world was on their shoulders, and she was glad she didn’t have to carry the burden alone. If she had to do it with anyone, Logan was the man she wanted beside her. And above her. And behind her . . .
Logan’s new cell phone rang, playing a popular Taylor Swift song. She laughed. No wonder Sawyer was so eager to make sure Logan chose that particular phone when he’d dropped them off earlier. She picked up her new phone off the nightstand and checked the settings to see what song Sawyer had chosen for her. Frowning as she listened, she wondered why he’d selected Kelly Clarkson’s “Miss Independent.”
He ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket. “The guys are here.” Frowning, he ran his fingers through her hair and gave her a side-glance. “I’m not sure how to prepare you for them. They’re unique.”
After meeting Sawyer and hearing about their propensity for sharing women, she wouldn’t have expected any less. “I’m sure if they’re your friends, I’ll like them.”
Logan picked at some fuzzy lint on her shorts, the back of his wrist brushing against the skin of her thigh. “We went through a lot together in the army. Experiences like that can either create lifelong bonds or destroy friendships completely. I was lucky to work beside men whom I not only call my friends, but consider my brothers.”
She would’ve expected a man with four navy SEAL brothers to have spent his life in the military. “You mentioned something in the car when I asked you about why you left. You said you and the army weren’t a good fit. What did you mean by that?”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “I have a hard time blindly following orders.”
Mockingly, her hand flew to her chest. “No. I’m shocked.”
He gave her a smile, but it quickly disappeared. “The guys and I worked in intelligence. We came across some sketchy information and agreed it was probably a setup. My commanding officer felt differently and sent in some men to do a rescue op. Turns out we were both right. The rebels actually did have an American relief worker, a girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty, as a hostage. But when the soldiers entered the home where they were holding her, it triggered a bomb and a planned attack.”
He paused, the air heavy with grief and the memory of spilled blood. Her heart ached as if she had been there in Afghanistan with him. She wanted to hold him, comfort him, but she knew the best thing she could do for him now was to just listen and allow him to finish.
His hands curled into fists. “Twelve men lost their lives because of the information we gave to our commander. Twelve men lost their lives because they didn’t have the right to disobey orders. Twelve men died because there was nothing I could do to stop it.” He pushed off of the bed and paced the room. “My commanding officer was a good man. He didn’t rush the soldiers into the house because he wanted glory or because he was an asshole. He disregarded the risk because there was a woman in trouble and he couldn’t handle the thought of her suffering. He wanted to be her hero. Instead, he was her executioner. And his own.”
Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she blinked them back and shifted her position on the bed, throwing her legs over the edge of the mattress. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
He stopped pacing and turned to her, his brows furrowed. “Thank you, but you don’t need to feel sorry for me. I survived.” He sat on the bed next to her and held her hand. “But it changed me. That’s when I began to need control over every aspect of my life, including sex. The guys you’re about to meet are a lot like me. Control . . . it’s important to all of us. Maybe that’s why we all became hackers. We couldn’t handle having something out of our control.” He hefted her to her feet. “Come on. I’d like to introduce you to them.”
Sawyer was waiting for them in the hallway and led them past the guest rooms to an office at the opposite side of the hotel. “Welcome to Tech Central,” Sawyer said, motioning Rachel and Logan into the room with a sweeping gesture.
Immediately, she discovered the room was aptly named. While the room wasn’t large, every part of it was overrun by wires and gadgets, most of them unidentifiable to her. On the walls hung multiple giant screens, all of them seemingly connected to the computers and smaller monitors set at various points in the room. With all its lights and switches, the space reminded her of the control room at her news station if it were combined with the cockpit of an airplane. There were baskets filled with cell phones and others filled with what appeared to be radios and walkie-talkies. And she had no idea what to make of the three tall metal units with lights running up and down the front of them.
Sawyer must have read her confusion. He walked to the odd units and rested his hand on top of one. “In layman’s terms, these are our own private servers, complete with unique security programs to cloak our IP address. We can go anywhere on the web, including the Dark Web, without being traced or tracked.”
She was familiar with the Dark Web from a high-profile legal case in which a Michigan high school senior had gotten arrested for running a teenage prostitution ring he’d staffed with girls who went to his school. He’d used his computer skills to run a business on a “hidden” part of the Internet.
Sawyer pointed at the baskets. “We’ve got your typical burner phones, signal jammers, bug detectors, key loggers, frame grabbers, open-source software defined radios . . . you know, everything you’d expect.”
Wide-eyed, she slid a glance at Logan. To her, it was as if Sawyer was speaking another language, but Logan nodded enthusiastically, unfazed and seemingly impressed by Sawyer’s toys.
Three men walked in, stealing what little space was left in the room, as well as all the oxygen from her lungs.
Dear God, did all hackers look like this?
Realizing that her jaw had dropped open wide enough to catch flies, she quickly closed it. As soon as the guys spotted Logan, they rushed him, shaking his hand in greeting and smacking him on the back.
Watching with great interest from the sidelines, she observed the group of friends interacting as they quickly caught up with one another, using so much profanity she felt as if she needed another shower.
At five foot seven, she wasn’t used to feeling so small, but all of them towered over her. They were all breathtakingly handsome, although each in his own way. The amount of testosterone in the room was overwhelming.
She folded her arms in front of her to cover the proof of how these men affected her. Her mind flew to her earlier conversation with Logan about their propensity for sharing women. She couldn’t imagine a woman alive who would turn down the opportunity to have all those hands on her. No wonder they stuck to the combination of two guys, one woman.
Any more and the woman would spontaneously combust.
Was she seriously considering having a ménage à trois with Logan and one of his friends? Her gaze landed on the straining biceps of the biggest of the men, and she smiled.
Oh yeah, she was.
Since Logan had shared his feelings for her back in Florida, she’d been cautiously optimistic that they might actually have a shot. But either way, she was going to greedily consume every chance she got with him, including sharing all his kinks.
After a few minutes, Logan crooked his finger at her. “Guys, this is Rachel Dawson.” When she joined his side, he slipped his arm around her waist and nodded his chin in the direction of one of the men. “This here is Eddie ‘Oz’ Ackerman.”
“Call me Oz,” he said, his beaded dreadlocks swaying as he took her hand. With skin as dark as her favorite chocolate and teeth so bright and straight she wondered if they were fake, he leaned forward as if about to tell her a secret. “So are you two fucking? Because if you aren’t, I call dibs.”
Logan’s arm tightened around her. “You’ll have to excuse him. Oz was dropped on his head when he was a baby.”
A man who reminded her of Vin Diesel
pounded Oz on the shoulder a couple of times. “And he liked it so much, he became a Hollywood stunt man just so he could get dropped on his head daily.”
After the roar of laugher died down, Sawyer pointed to Logan’s possessive hand on her hip. “As you can see, Logan’s already made his claim on the lovely Ms. Dawson.”
“Our loss,” said the Vin Diesel look-alike. He pushed Oz away and held out his hand to her. “Hunter Garrett. Sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.”
The biggest and most imposing of the bunch, Hunter was surprisingly friendly. The massive biceps she’d been admiring earlier seemed even larger up close, and the rest of him was just as muscular. Looking as if he could bench-press a car, he had a full sleeve of tattoos decorating both his arms, and piercings on his tongue, lip, and eyebrow.
She wondered where else he was pierced.
“And I’m Rowan Kimball,” said the last man quietly, not looking at her or offering his hand, but drumming a beat on his thigh. He didn’t seem rude, but possibly a bit shy. Although a man with his thick black hair and stunning blue-gray eyes had no reason to be. His face was all sharp angles with high cheekbones she would kill for. “I’ve accessed Senator Hutton’s private security company’s schedule as well as its details on the logistics of his speech,” he said as he ambled to one of the computers and sat down. He typed furiously and then the monitor in front of him lit up with information.
She walked up behind him to get a better look at the screen. “Wait, you’re telling me you’re good enough that you could hack into a security company’s records?”
“Honey, there ain’t nothing we can’t hack,” Oz said, taking a seat behind a different monitor. “If there was a computer in your panties, we could be in and out of there without you ever noticing.”
Hunter chuffed out a laugh. “Dude, do not speak for all of us. Believe me, if I was ever in her panties, she’d know it.”
She didn’t doubt that any one of those men would definitely leave his carbon footprint behind if he got anywhere near her panties. “No one is going near my panties,” she said without conviction.
Logan’s hands wrapped around her waist as he bumped into her from behind, not so subtly reminding her there was one man who would definitely be going near her panties later. “Can we move on from Rachel’s panties and move on to what you’ve all learned?”
Rowan’s screen lit up with a timeline of the senator’s schedule. “Senator Hutton is arriving tomorrow evening. He’s staying in a private donor’s home in Lake Las Vegas, and then on Friday at one, he’s speaking about his bill to increase funding for anti-bioterrorism to a room filled with his wealthiest donors, in the Tuscan Theater at the Tuscany Hotel.”
“That would be the perfect place for Evans and Fink to release Leopold,” Logan said excitedly. “Oz, can you access the blueprints of the hotel?”
Oz snorted. “Can I?” He shook his head dramatically and sighed as his fingers went to work, flying across the keyboard. “You insult me.”
In awe, Rachel watched as Oz brought up the Clark County Buildings Division’s internal server and accessed the blueprints with as much ease as she checked her e-mail. Logan hadn’t been kidding when he said they were the best hackers in the world. She’d been impressed by Logan’s ability to hack the cruise lines, but these guys made hacking look like child’s play.
Staring intently at the blueprints, she located the theater that was situated in the middle of the hotel, near the largest table games room in the casino and a wedding chapel.
Entertainers performing in the theater wouldn’t exactly use the same entrances as the rest of the hotel and casino patrons. They would have their own separate entrance.
“Rowan, does the senator’s security company note which entrance he’s using at the hotel?” she asked.
Rowan scrolled down the page, stopping on detailed notes about the logistics of the senator’s arrival and departure from the theater. “BH22E. They must have used a code.”
Hunter tsked. “Rowan, Rowan. It is indeed a code, but not a good one. BH stands for ‘back of the house,’ the area of the casino the public never gets to see.” He moved over to stand beside Oz and flashed Rachel a smile. “I’m more than a pretty face.” Turning to Oz, he pointed at the blueprints. “Oz, enlarge the back of the house for us.” Once he did, Hunter shook his finger. “There. The top right, see the number twenty-two? It’s on the east side of the building. Back of the house, door twenty-two, on the east side. If you ask me, the senator is overpaying his security team.”
Rachel had a feeling the security team members were probably quite competent when it came to doing their jobs. There was no way they could have prepared to come up against three hackers with these abilities. She hadn’t even known it was possible to break into companies’ private servers.
“Once they bring the senator inside, he’ll take an elevator to the bottom floor of the hotel and walk through the catacombs to get to a private elevator that goes directly to the backstage of the theater,” Rowan said, quickly summarizing the copious notes.
She glanced over her shoulder at Logan. “If Evans and Fink don’t want anyone to trace the virus back to them, they can’t be seen walking around with the tank in their arms. How are they going to get it into the theater?”
His mouth pursed and lines etched his forehead as he considered her question. Then a glint came into his eyes. “They don’t ever have to set foot into the theater. They’re going to release it through the air vents. Oz, find the mechanical room.”
Oz quickly pulled up the plans of the hotel’s lower level.
“There,” said Logan, pointing at the screen. “The entrance to the room is almost directly below the theater. As FBI, they’d have easy access to the same blueprints we have. They just have to find the duct that leads to the theater.”
Sawyer tapped his temple. “So if I were these agents, I’d follow closely behind the rest of the security team and access the hotel through the same door. But instead of taking the elevator down to the catacombs, I’d go to the basement level, which houses some offices and the maintenance of the hotel.”
Exhilaration filled her. This is what she loved to do. Figure out how all the pieces of a puzzle fit together. “No one on the hotel’s staff would blink twice if FBI agents checked out the security of the basement below the theater.” She bit her lip, stumbling into a glaring roadblock. “But how are we going to get access to the basement of the Tuscany? The minute we step into that hotel, we’ll be recognized.”
Oz burst into hysterical laughter, slapping his knee.
“Why is he laughing?” she asked.
Sawyer sidled up beside her. “Because this place has every costume you can think of to help you conceal your identity.” He grinned wickedly. “Role play is a popular kink offered at Paradise Found.”
The room’s temperature seemed to increase ten degrees. She gulped, wondering if Logan would ever be up for wearing his army uniform for her. “Got any creds that will help us pass as part of the senator’s security team?” she asked.
“We can not only create them,” Oz said, “but have the security company’s records show you’re part of the team.” He spread his arms out wide. “Never doubt the all-powerful Oz.”
Rowan scratched his head. “Did you guys think maybe you could just call anonymously and warn the senator?”
She wished it was that easy. “Like he’d believe us? Besides, it wouldn’t stop the plan. Only postpone or alter it. At least now, we know roughly when and where it’s occurring. This could be our only opportunity to stop it.”
They needed something to prove Evans and Fink were dirty. But what? She frowned. If the agents were working for someone else, they would’ve been paid. “A trail,” she said out loud. “We need to find out if Evans and Fink have received any large sums of money recently. How do we do that?”
Logan rested his chin on her shoulder. “The guys can access their US bank accounts, but it will take some time for
them to uncover any overseas accounts, especially if they’ve used an international corporation to cover their tracks.”
“But we can do it,” Rowan said. “I’ll work on it tonight while you guys are in the club.”
Logan picked his head up. “Oh, we’re not—”
“That would be great, Rowan. Thanks,” she said, interrupting. She wanted to see what went on in the club. “Hey, Sawyer? Do you think you could find us some masks? I think I’d like to take you up on your offer and check out Paradise Found. After all, we are in Vegas. And what happens here . . . ”
“Stays here?” Logan asked seriously.
His question deserved a serious and truthful answer. She smiled. “I hope not.”
Chapter Nineteen
RACHEL MUST HAVE lost her mind somewhere between Florida and Nevada. That was the only explanation of why, in addition to a black mask that covered the upper portion of her face, she was wearing only a black lace shelf bra and matching thong—in public.
How far she had come from a few days ago at Benediction in her pants and a conservative blouse when she’d agreed to allow Logan to bind her with his ropes over her clothes.
Sawyer had begged Logan to show off his Shibari skills tonight in the club. Now she was practically naked on a stage inside Paradise Found and getting ready for Logan to bind her in front of an audience.
She may have spent only a short time inside the dungeon of Benediction, but that was all she needed to understand the differences between that club and this one.
Benediction catered to the wealthy, its patrons paying thousands of dollars for the privilege of belonging to a club where other members of high society could play with like-minded sexually adventurous people without having to worry about being outed for their predilections for kinky sex. Those who scened at Benediction did so in luxurious surroundings, with expensive equipment and state-of-the-art security. They had gorgeous locker rooms that rivaled a high-end spa, fantasy rooms, and free alcohol for those who weren’t participating in any BDSM scenes.