The computer beeped as the screen turned black, the cursor blinking patiently. Finally. Her hormones taking a back seat, she readjusted in her chair. “I’m in.” With her fingers moving as fast as she could make them go, she coded a message and sent it out to all the blogs where hackers of every shape and size hung out, waiting for their next challenge. After she accomplished her first task, she took a break and stretched.
“What are you doing now?”
“I’m resting my fingers.”
“Charis, we don’t have time for resting fingers.”
“Why don’t you go grab us some coffee?” she asked. Anything to get him to go away for just a few minutes.
“What?” He looked at her like she’d just asked him to jump out of a plane without a parachute. “I’m not in the mood for coffee.”
“They have tea.”
“Charis—”
“Just go,” she urged. “Please. I can’t concentrate with you breathing down my neck.” Literally.
With one last grunt, he spun around and disappeared up the escalator, giving her the space and time she needed to code an algorithm she’d be able to use to trace those knocking on the back door of all the major targets. Pentagon. DOD. CIA. FBI. For shifts and gears—was that how that saying went—she added the coordinates for TREX.
And now she waited.
She hated this part, wanted instant gratification. Finally, having a moment to herself, she leaned back, kicked off her shoes and closed her eyes.
“Your coffee,” David said sharply, waking her from her light slumber. He set a tall cup of steaming liquid next to her. She opened her eyes and looked up. He scowled down at her, not at all happy to find her now resting not only her fingers, but her eyes as well.
How long had she been out? Looking around, she gave a stretch and a good long yawn. “Oh, boy. I guess I’m tired. I must have—”
“Have you found me Surreal?”
“Do you see me jumping for joy?”
“Do you see me amused?”
Charis wanted to scream. The guy drove her to within an inch of her sanity. “You can be a real jerk, you know that?”
“Hate me later. Right now, find me Surreal.”
Oh, she wanted to hate him all right. Unfortunately she’d fallen into such an extreme case of lust she couldn’t talk herself into hating him. Her attraction to the man had intensified after their mind-blowing sexcapade in the elevator. She couldn’t turn it off. She didn’t want to.
At least last night the director had enough sense to put them up in separate bedrooms. At opposite ends of the house. On different floors. Even with that distance between them she still sensed him. It had to have been the most restless night she’d ever had. Every noise made her jolt awake and look at the bedroom door, hoping she’d see a sliver of light spread across the floor as David snuck into her room.
But, alas, he’d stayed away. Every once in a while she heard deep voices coming from the downstairs. She couldn’t hear what they’d said, but knew it had to be him and the director. After several hours of waiting and listening, she’d drifted off.
And now that the very man she’d wanted by her side actually stood by her side, she barely kept her eyes open.
She felt his gaze fall on her, but didn’t look up from her laptop. The lights on the scrambler blinked green and then blue, signaling another shift in IP addresses.
And then the lights held a solid red. It took a second for her to realize what happened. Before she took a breath to warn him, her computer beeped three times, paused, and then beeped three times again. Bone-chilling goose bumps washed across her flesh.
“David,” she called softly, her eyes never leaving the screen. Her blood slowed and she gave an involuntary shudder.
“I’m not going to get you a donut.”
She shook her head to dismiss his assumption, her breath growing shallow. “David.”
“No more excuses. Find me Surreal.”
“Holy shit,” she muttered. That got his attention. He stopped pacing and knelt down beside her, his hands on her shoulders, his gaze resting on the screen.
“Charis? Why are you shaking? What is it?”
“My screen just went out. My—my lights are red.”
“And that means...”
“I’m hit.”
He leaned in and read the message as it flashed across her screen. “Follow Only Using Nonstop Devotion. Yes Only Us. For In Rising Satisfaction Times. Love your shoes.” He cocked his head to the side. “What the hell does that mean?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t breathe. Her throat wouldn’t work. Looking around in all directions, she searched for the camera. How did he do it? How did he get one up on her? He couldn’t be anywhere near them, and yet she felt his eyes on her, watching her every move. “We didn’t find him. He found us.”
“What?”
“He can see us.” She didn’t bother to keep her voice down. It wouldn’t matter.
David sprang to his feet and followed her lead in searching in all directions. “How?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he tapped into the cameras at this end of baggage claim.”
“But how did he know where to look?”
“I don’t know! I upped the hits on my scrambler. I tapped into all the sites from the back door. Unless he expected us, there’s no way—”
“Shit. That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
He leaned back against the table and let out a chuckle. The look in his eyes scared her. They were dark, dangerous. Lethal. “Where’d you plant your taps?”
“The norms. Pentagon. CIA. FBI.”
He shook his head. “Surreal would know to look there. Where else?”
Oh. Oh no. She felt sick. “I may have added TREX to my algorithm.”
The distinct grinding of his teeth echoed in her ears. His eyes cooled to a stone brown, steely and full of determination. Crisply folding his arms, he remarked shortly, “TREX is not the norm. You know the rules.”
She knew the rules, all right. Expose an agency and the agency drops you. “I—I wanted to make sure Surreal didn’t try tapping into our system. I swear I didn’t expose anything.”
“Brilliant. Now he knows the way into your system.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” she defended. “Unless Surreal knew the IP address ahead of time, there’s no way he hitched a ride on the scrambler.”
“So how do you know he found us?”
“Crack the code,” she answered. “Use the first letter of each word to spell another word. Follow Only Using Nonstop Devotion—F-O-U-N-D. Yes Only Us—Y-O-U. For In Rising Satisfaction Times—F-I-R-S-T. Found you first.”
“What about the shoes?”
“I don’t think that was part of the pattern. That’s why I think he can see us.”
“How so?”
“He commented on my shoes.”
David glanced down at her bare feet. “You aren’t wearing any.”
She slipped her shoes back on and held up her feet. “See?”
“They look like ordinary shoes to me.”
“Uh,” she didn’t know whether she wanted to admit as much, but knew no other way. “Thomas was with me when I bought them.”
“Jesus Christ, Charis. Just how well did you know this guy? You two went shopping together?” A few other cuss words slipped out.
Her computer beeped again. Instead of answering his question, she read the screen aloud. “Love One Over Kindness. Beware Evil Hides In No Darkness. Year Of Unhappiness. Blind Catch 8.” Charis closed her eyes. “Look behind you.”
“What?”
“It says to look behind you. BC 8.” Oh shit. Please don’t let it be a body. She could handle blood, guts, and gore. Just as long as she didn’t have to see a body.
The buzzer sounded above carousel eight, scaring the holy hell out of her. The amber light flashed and the tracks slugged to life. David hurried over to the opening, keeping off to the side, his weapon at t
he ready.
Weapon?
Where did he find a gun? They were in the airport for crying out loud. He could be arrested for that. He disappeared to the other side of the carousal.
Why didn’t he bother telling her about the gun? If he felt they were in any danger, he sure as hell didn’t fill her in on that fact. She looked around, noticed she was alone, not another soul in sight. Without hesitation, she jumped up and rounded the corner, hurrying to his side. She wanted the man with the gun as close as possible.
He flicked a glance her way, and then gave her a double take. “Charis? What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not going to stay over there alone.”
“Get back to your computer, Angel. If Surreal can see us, then he can see you’ve left your computer unprotected.”
She gave him a roll of her eyes. When he continued his intense glare to get her to go back to her post, she humored him and took only the needed steps to sweep a glance over to the table.
Where the laptop used to be. Her heart leapt to her throat and froze there.
“It’s gone.” Charis ran over to the table. The laptop, the scrambler...everything but the plug-in, which still sat on the table. Gone. She spun in every direction. How could it be gone? She couldn’t have been away more than thirty seconds. “He has the laptop.”
The carousel stopped. David’s shoulders visibly sank as he came back around. With a loud curse that echoed through the empty baggage claim area, he kicked the carousel.
* * * *
Surreal saw her, even called out her name as if she’d be able to hear him. With his fingers, he traced her face on the monitor. He could feel the texture of her skin, so soft and silky against his fingers. They were close to sharing a moment together.
And then he appeared. Surreal almost punched his monitor when he saw none other than the agent responsible for the destruction of his parent’s cabin.
David Fucking Snyder.
What in the hell was he doing with his Charis? Snyder already stole so much from him. Could he really be stupid enough to think he’d be able to steal her, too?
He wanted to say more than the cryptic message, but with Snyder watching over her shoulder, he had to keep it brief. After starting the carousel to pull Snyder away from her, he wanted to send her another message, one more personal. He didn’t think she’d run to his side like that.
When she placed her hands on Snyder’s arm, it was like a stab to his heart. Out of the corner of the surveillance camera, he watched as the two punk kids he’d paid to grab her laptop took off with it. With a satisfied smile, he stopped the carousel.
One of his other computers beeped. Surreal leaned in and read the monitor. “Shot in Sri Lanka. Coincidently right around the time Abu Khalil had been assassinated. Interesting.” He printed the report and logged into several sites to send out feelers for anyone who may want payback for the death of their dear friend Abu.
It was too perfect. He didn’t even have to get his hands dirty. Snyder had more enemies than friends. Any number of them would jump at the chance for payback.
In less than ten minutes he had a nice list of possible contacts. He sent the top three a message and quoted the price for David Snyder’s ugly head on a platter.
“A small price to pay to get what I want. You reap what you sow.” A triumphant grin curled his lips. He loved when things came together. “And what comes around goes around.”
* * * *
David growled deep in the back of his throat. How could Charis not know what was on the fucking laptop? “Are you sure you don’t know what else was on there? Something that, I don’t know, could be a threat to our national security? Maybe to each of us personally?”
Charis shook her head. “The battery was dead when we got it. I had no way to run a scan before we started our trace.”
Shit. He rubbed his forehead to ward off the headache growing behind his temples. Between the extra scrutiny at the SeaTac airport in order for him to bring his weapon onto the plane, the pucker flight into Montana on a damn prop plane, and the wait at the Missoula airport while they pulled him aside to make sure he still had his weapon on him, he was ready to chew nails.
They were now in her house. A cute little house, fitting her perfectly. Off-white siding with peach shutters. The picket fence was a nice touch. The snow on the ground blanketed the manicured bushes lining the front of the house. He’d bet his thumb her lawn was just as equally groomed.
It was so Charis. Every aspect of her life so perfectly in order, all the way down to the peaches-and-cream mailbox. Even her living room furniture matched. Her kitchen towels. He hadn’t visited the bathroom yet, but he’d bet his last nickel it matched everything else in the house.
Yep. Perfect.
They sat in the extra bedroom she’d turned into her office. He took a moment to clear his thoughts and memorize the room. Her colossal mahogany desk took up half the room, an obvious necessity to hold the half dozen monitors. He’d never seen so many monitors connected to a single computer before.
She’d set the desk up so the natural lighting from the window above it illuminated her station. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of books flanked either side of the desk. Books, he noticed, that had nothing to do with computers or hacking. Most of them were romance, with only a few mysteries. He pulled one down and read the back blurb. Nope. Make that all romance.
“Which one of these is your favorite?”
She didn’t bother to look up from her monitors, to even hesitate as she answered. “Pick out anything by Jami Davenport.”
He found one and pulled it down. “Who’s Been Sleeping In My Bed? What kind of book is this? She doesn’t even know who’s sleeping in her bed.”
“Don’t knock it. There’s a seriously hot scene in chapter twelve I want to try out.”
He damn near swallowed his tongue at her comment. Without hesitation, he flipped it open to the chapter and started reading. Holy hell. As he scanned the page, his groin stirred restlessly. “They’re in a restaurant, Charis.”
“A bar, actually.” And not once, as she had this conversation of having sex in public, did she even slow her keystrokes.
He put the book back. No way would he be able to concentrate if he continued to read, to finish the scene and see how it played out. No doubt the book ended with the proverbial happily ever after. But he knew better. He’d spent his time working toward his HEA. He knew firsthand how unrealistic thinking two people could somehow find each other amongst the other billions of people on the planet.
He moved to the other bookcase on the opposite wall. More romances. Shaking his head, he turned toward the empty whiteboard attached to the wall opposite the desk. He picked up a pen and made a few notes, the names and locations of the buildings five years ago. The same for those destroyed in the last three weeks.
Shit. Three buildings in three weeks. Surreal had only blown four before they found him five years ago. Maybe they’d get that lucky again.
Jesus, please let them be that lucky again.
After adding the last of the names, he stood back and stared at them. There had to be a connection. Had to be. But shit, not that he could see. Five years ago he took out three technology buildings, with an architectural firm sandwiched in the middle.
There had to be a pattern. Every psycho had a pattern. Surreal would be no different. He’d made a mistake five years ago, a mistake that led David right to him. It wouldn’t be long before he’d screw up again. When he did, David would be ready for him. Oh, he’d find him, all right. This time, David would make sure they had him.
“Where are you?” he asked the board. “Why can’t we find you, you sorry bastard?”
“I’m working on it,” she answered impatiently. “Just give me another minute.”
“Let me guess, you want more coffee.”
She brought her gaze up from the monitors. They hadn’t moved out of this room since arriving in Montana. He already had cabin fever.
“No coffee. But you can make us a drink.”
Now she was talking. “Got any whiskey?”
She nodded, not taking her gaze off the plethora of screens. Her fingers flew over her keyboard. “Above the fridge. I’ll take mine with ice. No water.”
“I’ll be back.” He found the whiskey and poured a few fingers for him before adding ice. She needed to keep her head on straight, so he added the ice before the fingers for her drink. Bringing them both back into her office, he handed hers to her.
“Thanks,” she said, staring at a monitor as it returned nonsensical data she seemed so interested in. She took a sip and set the drink down on a coaster without ever looking away from the screens. He took a long swig before looking for another coaster to set his down. “To your right.”
Not sure how she saw where the coaster hid, let alone how she knew he looked for one, he set the glass down and folded his arms in front of him. He’d never met anyone else who knew their surroundings all the way down to the last detail as well as he did. Hell, she knew her surroundings better than he did. And that said something. He’d already memorized the layout of the rooms he’d been in, down to how many throw rugs she had. Why hadn’t he been able to recall where the coaster sat on her desk? It wasn’t like him to forget something like that. Hell, it wasn’t like him to forget anything.
But Charis had a way about her, a way that made everything else around her seem less... Well, just less. His senses focused so intently on her it left no room for anything else.
“Watch your drink.”
He glanced at his drink just as a cat with the coloring of a jersey cow, as big as one too, sniffed at it and then shook its head. It shocked the shit out of him when the damn thing buried its face in the glass and started to lap up his whiskey. He grabbed the glass away before the stupid cat drank it all. “Hey!”
“That would be Peepers. He’s my cat.”
“Your cat drinks whiskey?”
“I’ve talked to him about it,” she answered, her eyes still glued to the monitors. She snapped her gaze to whichever monitor beeped and flashed. “But he refuses to attend any of the AA meetings.”
Seek and Destroy (TREX, #5) Page 17