No Strings Attached

by Julie Moffett

  Why in the world Basia wanted to have the bachelorette party a full month before the wedding remained a mystery to me, but since I knew absolutely nothing about weddings and parties, it wasn’t my place to second-guess her. Still it had shrunk my timeline for planning, which wasn’t very helpful, especially when I had no idea what I was doing in the first place.

  I started to panic, more scared of a freaking party than I was of being chased through the woods by some crazed hacker with a gun.

  “Calm down, Carmichael,” I said aloud. “It’s just a party.”

  Since Slash was still preoccupied with setting the trap, I decided to do a bit of browsing on my phone for party stores in the area. There were about one gazillion party stores, so I refined the search to bachelorette parties. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for, so I started scrolling through the list. I hovered over one store name because it said Faylene’s Bachelorette Parties and Supplies. I had yet to see a store so specialized, so I figured if that was all they did, they must be doing pretty good business. The hours said the store was open until eleven o’clock at night, which seemed kind of late, but maybe people only planned bachelorette parties at night. It wasn’t like I had any frame of reference.

  After two rings someone picked up.

  “Faylene’s Bachelorette Parties and Supplies.” The woman sounded like a heavy smoker. “We do it all for you. How can I help you?”

  They’d do it all for me? That sounded promising. Really promising.

  “Uh, hi. I’m supposed to plan a bachelorette party for my best friend. I wondered if, well, you really do it all. Decorations, games, food, supplies and planning.”

  “Sure, we can do that. You provide the parameters and we do the rest.”

  Parameters. Now we were talking my language. “What kind of parameters do you need?”

  “Well, how many guests are coming, what kind of theme you want, what type of food people want to eat, will it be alcohol or dry and what do you want to do for the entertainment? That kind of thing.”

  “Oh.” It sounded a lot like I was going to have to do something. In no way did I want to give her that impression. “Look, I’ll be honest with you, I’ve never planned a party before, let alone a big one like this. There are going to be about ten women and the bride-to-be is, well, a free spirit. That’s as much as I’ve got in terms of parameters. Well, and it’s this weekend. I’ve got a place rented and invitations mailed, but that’s it.”

  There was silence. “That’s a fast turnaround and not much to go on. I guess I could come up with some ideas and run them past you.”

  “Great.” Relief flooded through me. “Really great. Thanks so much.”

  “You’re welcome. By the way, I’m Faylene.”

  “Oh, hey, Faylene. I’m Lexi. I guess this must be your shop.”

  “It sure is. I’ll take good care of you. Don’t worry.”

  “I won’t. I can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

  We exchanged contact information and she promised to call me soon. I’d just put my cell back in my purse when Slash came out to the kitchen.

  “Who were you talking to?” he asked, tugging on my arm and pulling me into his arms. He kissed me before letting me rest my head against his shoulder.

  “Oh, I was just party planning.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “At this hour? It’s nearly ten o’clock.”

  “Lucky for me, the store is open late.”

  “So, how’s it going?”

  He didn’t have to ask me which party. It wasn’t like I even went to parties, let alone planned them.

  “According to the timeline of How to Plan the Perfect Bachelorette Party—which, by the way, was the only thing I understood in the entire book—I’m in serious trouble,” I said. “However, I think I’ve finally got a thread I can pull in terms of assistance.”

  “It’s this Saturday, right?”

  “Right.” I gulped. “No worries. I will not panic. It’s all under control.”

  Wisely he questioned no further. He was invited to Xavier’s bachelor party, which was also this Saturday. The details of that party were apparently top secret because no one had told me anything, including Elvis.

  “So, is the trap set?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “It is.” Slash tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let’s put it away for a while. I want to take care of you. What do you want to do for dinner? Unfortunately, my pantry is a bit understocked.”

  “I know. I checked.”

  “Want to go out?”

  “I don’t feel up to that. We could order a pizza, though.”

  “Excellent idea. I’ll order from Amicci’s on South High Street. It’s only about fifteen minutes away. They have good pizza.”

  “Perfect. I completely trust your judgment on pizza.”

  He smiled as he picked up his cell. He must have ordered from them before, because he asked for the regular and gave nothing more than his telephone number before hanging up.

  He went to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, tossing it to me. “I’d open some wine, but you’re on painkillers. This will be better for you.”

  I caught the bottle. “I know. Thanks.”

  He pulled another water bottle for himself, unscrewed the top and took a long swig. As he put the cap back on, he considered me. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a long day for you tomorrow. They want to question you at the NSA about the players in this little drama.”

  I twisted my hair around my finger. “I don’t have a lot to tell them. Still, I’m willing to talk as long as we don’t have to go to the police station.”

  “Not a concern. This is way out of the hands of the police at this point. The FBI and NSA will run interference for you on this.”

  “Thank goodness. The fact that I’m on a first-name basis with the police at the station these days is not a good thing.”

  “I’m with you on that.” He suddenly snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”

  “A present for me? It’s not my birthday. But more importantly, why does talking about the police station remind you that you have a present for me?”

  He smiled. “It’s a replacement for something you lost the last time we were at the police station.”

  “Slash, you know you don’t have to—”

  “I know.” He held up a hand, stopping me. “I know. Just close your eyes, okay?”

  Swallowing my objection, I closed my eyes. He took my hand and led me to a spot, ordering me to stand still and not peek.

  I heard a rustle. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

  We were in the bedroom. He motioned to the bed, where a gorgeous blue coat lay.

  I looked at the coat and then at Slash. “Wow. You bought me a new coat?”

  “To replace the one that got ruined in New York.” He held it up and helped me slide my arms in it. “This time instead of white, I opted for sapphire blue. What do you think?”

  I ran my hand across the soft material. It fit perfectly and fell just below the top of my thighs.

  I turned around to face him and he rested his hands on my hips. “I love this coat for multiple reasons, Slash. First, I adore this shade of blue. And second—”

  He pressed a finger against my lips, interrupting me. “Let me guess. You love that you didn’t have to go shopping for it.”

  I laughed. “Wow. You do know me well.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Thanks.” I touched the stubble on his cheek with my fingertips. “I mean it. It was a thoughtful thing to do.”

  “You’re welcome.” He took my hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the inside of my wrist.

  I slid my arms around his neck and he pulled me closer
so I could rest my head on his shoulder. “I have a little present for you, in return,” I said. “You can take the coat off me now...if you know what I mean.”

  He tilted his head back, lifting my chin with his finger, a smile touching his lips. “I think I do.” He gently touched the wound on my face with a fingertip. “But what about your injuries and the pizza?”

  “I believe I will feel exponentially better and more relaxed after your, um, ministrations. In regards to the pizza, based on my calculations—including the time it will take them to make the pizza and drive to your apartment—I figure we have about fifteen minutes left. Can you work within those parameters?”

  “I’ll certainly do my best,” Slash said as he carefully slid the coat off my shoulders. “But after that and the pizza, you’re going straight to bed. No arguments.”

  “Deal.” I sighed in pleasure as he lowered his mouth to mine.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning we headed to NSA headquarters at Fort Meade. I’d wanted to call Finn Shaughnessy, my boss, to let him know what was going on, but Slash stopped me.

  “Can you wait a bit more? I’d prefer to keep this confidential for the time being. You weren’t supposed to go into the office today anyway, right?”

  “No. I’m supposed to be at the HACK CON.”

  “Are you presenting?”

  “No. I did that yesterday. I’m just a participant now.”

  “Good. No one will miss you then. We need to get clearance for how much of this you can tell Finn, okay?”

  “Hey, you called him Finn. Are you guys becoming friends?” I hoped so. People admired Slash, but he generally kept them at a distance. Aside from his family and me, he didn’t have many close relationships. Definitely nothing like what I had with Basia, Elvis, Xavier and Finn.

  Slash gave me a sideways glance. “We’re acquaintances with a person of mutual importance between us. Friendship is a possibility.”

  “Yay. That’s progress!”

  He smiled and I looked out the window at the passing spring scenery. Flowers were blooming and there was an occasional warm current in the spring air of Washington, DC. Soon it would be time for the annual Cherry Blossom Festival, which was one of my favorite times in the city. This year, Slash and I would go see them together.

  As we approached Fort Meade, Slash stopped at the guard gate and showed his identification. I had to show mine, too. The guard cross-referenced me with the tablet he held and then waved us through. Slash pulled into the parking lot in front of two large glass-front high-rise buildings. We walked to the entrance of the building on the right. Because I was a visitor this time around and no longer an employee, I went through a different line than Slash. I sent my purse through the X-ray machine and endured a full body scan. Finally, I pressed my palm to a biometric pad and signed my name on a tablet before I was admitted. Slash bypassed most of the initial entrance drama and waited for me on the other side. He’d hung his security badge around his neck. It was the first time I’d ever seen it. His lanyard was red, which meant he could access any part of the building he wanted. No surprise there, but it was cool for me to see the red lanyard close up.

  We walked together to the elevators. To my surprise, instead of going up the stairs to where I used to have my office, Slash pressed his palm against a panel above the elevator’s up and down buttons. When they lit up, he pressed the down button. Although I’d heard about the “Hole”—as NSA employees often referred to it—I’d never actually been there. Rumor had it there were extensive tunnels and offices, ten acres’ worth, belowground.

  “Whoa. Are we going to the Hole?” I asked, trying not to look too excited.

  “We are. It’s where IAD has its offices.”

  I hadn’t known that, but then again, we were heavily compartmentalized at the NSA to keep things as secret as possible.

  The elevator door dinged open. No one was inside. Slash ushered me in and followed, pressing his badge against another keypad and pressing the button that said G2.

  “So, exactly whom in IAD will I be talking to?” I kept my focus on Slash, trying not to look at my bruised reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

  “Several people, including the Director of IAD, Grant Durham, and our Lead Facility Security Officer, Shawn Moore. There will likely be several others, possibly reps from the CIA and FBI. I already briefed Grant.”

  “You filled him in personally?”

  “Of course. He’s my boss.”

  I stared at Slash in astonishment. I’d been dating him for several months and, although I knew he worked at the NSA, he’d never been permitted to tell me exactly in what capacity or department. That kind of information was top secret, as in I-can’t-tell-you-or-else-I-have-to-kill-you secret.

  “You work in IAD? Really?”

  “Really. But not exclusively. I am occasionally...well, often...tagged for duties elsewhere as needed.”

  He didn’t offer more information and I didn’t ask. I knew he couldn’t tell me even if he wanted to.

  The elevator dinged and we stepped off. I’m not sure why I hadn’t considered IAD, except I’d figured him as better suited for a spot in cyber research and development. IAD handled pretty dark stuff like network worms, Trojan counterattacks and semantic analysis. Plus, IAD agents were often used by other agencies, such as the CIA, FBI and the military for intelligence operations. Now that I thought about it, IAD did make a lot of sense for a guy with Slash’s talents. I slid a glance at him, wondering what other secrets he had hidden from me.

  He took my elbow, steering me down a hallway. Florescent lighting illuminated the dim corridor as we walked past rows of identical sea green doors with no identifying information other than gold-plated numbers. We passed two men with green lanyards around their necks. They greeted Slash, who nodded back at them.

  “Are we going to your office?” I wasn’t sure why I was whispering except somehow I felt like I was on hallowed ground.

  “No. It’s too small. We’ll convene in the IAD war room. They’ll be waiting.”

  He abruptly stopped at a door with a gold plate that read G266 and pressed his wallet against an electronic pad anchored to the wall next to the door. The keypad whirred and then opened. Slash pressed his forehead to a biometric pad for a retinal scan. The door clicked and Slash pushed it open.

  I took a breath and steeled myself for my first step into the legendary IAD.

  Chapter Ten

  Slash moved to the side and insisted I enter first. I strode into the room, looking around curiously.

  Six men sat around a large, polished mahogany table. A large smart board was lit up, but nothing was displayed. No women in the room other than myself. Not that I was surprised.

  All of the men had laptops open in front of them. One man was typing while two others huddled at the same laptop looking at something on the screen. Everyone glanced up at me. An older man with a shock of gray hair rose from the head of the table and came to greet us. He looked to be in his mid-fifties and wore his white shirt rolled up his forearms. A sports jacket was draped on the back of his chair. When he shook my hand, his grip was firm and swift.

  “Hello. I’m Grant Durham, Director of IAD. I’m glad to have the opportunity to finally meet you, Ms. Carmichael. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

  “Well, you can’t believe everything you hear,” I joked. To my relief, he smiled.

  Grant shook Slash’s hand, too. While neither man said anything, Grant patted Slash on the back in a gesture of familiarity. “Have a seat both of you, please, and let’s get started.” He motioned toward two empty seats adjacent to him.

  Slash pulled out my chair and I sat while Grant returned to his seat at the head of the table.

  Grant closed his laptop and slid it aside. “Welcome to our war ro
om, Ms. Carmichael. Everyone here is aware of who you are and what happened to you yesterday. Let’s do quick introductions around the table so you will know us. Gentlemen, please introduce yourself to the young lady.”

  The man next to him nodded at me. “Good morning. I’m Trevor McMasters, Deputy Director of Operations, IAD. Nice to finally meet you. Your reputation precedes you.”

  He didn’t smile when he said it, so I had no idea if that were good or bad. A young Asian man seated next to me went next. “I’m Charlie Hsu, Head of ISS.”

  ISS stood for Information Systems Security. It would be Charlie’s job to oversee the installation and implementation of security software to prevent cyberattacks, as well as respond to successful attacks with appropriate countermeasures.

  “Hey, Charlie,” I said, and he nodded.

  A middle-aged man with black hair sitting next to me held out a hand. “I’m Sam Nelson, Vulnerability Analyst.”

  “Hey, Sam. I’ll be interested to hear your analysis of the hack.”

  He grinned. “Happy to provide it.”

  The introductions continued around the table. Marek Krupka from the Office of Security Investigations was next. A handsome African-American man named Shawn Moore, the Lead Facility Security Officer, or FSO, rounded out our group.

  Slash didn’t introduce himself.

  When the introductions were finished, Grant leaned forward on the table, folding his hands on top of his laptop. “So, Ms. Carmichael, can you walk us through exactly what happened?”