She hadn’t intended to sound so vehement about the relationship, but Ed Tallon’s love for her nephew was something she never doubted. His entry into Caroline’s life saved Caroline and Mitchell both. In a sense, Professor Tallon had saved her, too. Allison felt a measure of satisfaction that she’d been the one to introduce her sister to such a wonderful man.
“You’re lucky to have that kind of devotion with your family.” Sloan’s tone sounded a little envious. “Mitch is a good kid.”
“He’s the best. Hopefully now, you can understand why I can’t just leave him.”
“I understand. Believe me.”
Allison studied Sloan. He sounded sincere. His eyes were warm and perceptive. It seemed out of character for him to be so agreeable. She felt another shoe waiting to drop.
“I’m not going to lie and tell you Northstar doesn’t need your help.” Sloan continued, “Finding this hacker is important. I’m sure your work tonight will catch him quickly. You won’t need to be in L.A. for very long.”
“Perhaps.” She wanted to believe him, but a small flicker of doubt crossed her mind. “I’ll do whatever the director needs me to do.” Her program had to work. She owed Byron O’Neal for taking a chance on her a little under a year ago. She still felt the need to prove she was capable and qualified to work for his team.
“Have a little faith in yourself.” Sloan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
His touch was almost more reassuring than his words. An odd sensation, given that their interaction up to this point had mostly been confrontational.
The interlude had turned intimate, making her uncomfortable. At the office, she was guarded, careful not to let Sloan gain the upper hand, even when she knew he was teasing. Yet tonight, in her childhood home, she’d shared things with him she’d never shared before. She’d let him in, putting aside the caution that usually governed her every move.
Entering this uncharted territory made her nervous. She needed distance before her thoughts betrayed her. “I’ll make some more coffee. It could be a long night.” She stood.
Sloan stood at the same time.
Her arm brushed his chest. Startled by the contact, she jerked away, catching her leg on the chair. He grabbed her arm before she stumbled against the desk.
He held her upright and they stood face to face. Not moving.
Her analytical side wondered why their closeness wasn’t awkward. Another part of her was drawn to Sloan. He wasn’t the type of man she was usually attracted to. Did she even have a type? She’d never taken time to figure that out, but she couldn’t deny tonight’s sparks between them had been intriguing, if unsettling.
He seemed to feel it, too. A purposeful look crossed his face. Holding her arm in one hand, he lifted his other hand and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. The caress moved upward and he removed her glasses.
Anticipation and longing washed through her, weakening her knees. She willed herself not to lean into him.
“You’re not the person I thought you were, Allison.” His warm voice held a question.
“Who did you think I was?” she whispered.
Sloan offered an unrepentant grin. “The queen of all cyborgs.”
His candid answer surprised a laugh out of her, easing some of the tension. “Then I’m doing something right.” As she stepped out of his hold, she took her glasses from him and placed them on the desk. She was back on familiar battleground. “You’re far too sure of yourself, Cartland. It’s comforting that you don’t know everything.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little confidence.”
“Confidence, yes. Arrogance, no.”
“Hmmm.” He picked up her glasses. Holding them backward, he looked through the lenses at her. “I wonder…is it confidence or arrogance that makes you believe you can finally catch this hacker?”
His remark struck home. He was Northstar’s profiler, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d try to analyze her. What he said was true. Allison hated losing, even when nothing was at stake. It wasn’t in her nature to settle for second best. Competition had nothing to do with it. She simply couldn’t afford to make a mistake. The last one had cost a friend his life, and destroyed her dream.
Was it possible that her quest to excel made her arrogant? The very thing she accused Sloan of? Was ego keeping her from examining herself too closely? Arrogance or not, she wouldn’t give Sloan the satisfaction of cataloging her personality.
She lifted her chin and held out her hand for her glasses. “Those are mine.”
The shameless gleam was back in his eyes, proving she hadn’t fooled him.
Instead of giving her glasses back, he placed them on her face. His fingers brushed the tips of her ears. His hands lowered and caught her shoulders in a butterfly caress.
He bent his head and whispered into her ear. “You didn’t answer me.” He drew back and looked at her.
His gaze probed through the lenses into her eyes and perhaps the depths of her soul.
Desire flared and she battled with an intense urge to run out of the room. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to slap him for the conflict he caused. She couldn’t think straight. If only she could breathe.
His lips turned upward in a smile that sent her pulse racing. Drawing her close, he leaned his head toward her.
Not daring to close her eyes, she waited—her expectant mouth trembling.
His lips brushed hers and captured her gasp.
The lights dimmed and electric pulses coursed through her body at the gentle kiss.
His mouth moved seductively over hers.
The emptiness inside began to wane. Her mind stirred with dreams of warm nights, cozy afternoons, and someone to hold her hand. This was what was missing in her life.
Her hands found his chest and she leaned in for more.
Then everything went black.
A piercing alarm from under the desk ripped through her trance. She jerked out of Sloan’s grasp. Reluctantly, she consigned his kiss to another compartment of her brain. Not forgotten—simply put away.
“What the hell is that?” Sloan shouted.
She didn’t take time to answer, but quickly assessed the situation. The power had failed. The backup battery was the single source of power to her system, and if it was as old as she thought it was, it wouldn’t last long. Only the monitor and tiny LEDs on the keyboard and modem glowed in the dark office. Her hands flew over the keys, then grabbed the mouse, closing programs as fast as she could click buttons.
If she didn’t save the files now, she could lose everything.
****
“What is it? What’s happened?” Sloan raised his voice to get Allison’s attention, but she didn’t seem to hear him. The lights were out in the office, yet the monitor cast a ghostly glow.
A bright beam split the darkness from behind.
“Aunt Allison, the power just went out.” Mitch’s excited voice announced the obvious as the beam of a large flashlight in his hand bounced around the room before coming to rest on his aunt.
“I know, Mitchell. I’m saving my work before I turn off the UPS.”
“UPS?” Sloan wondered if they’d started speaking a different language.
“Uninterruptable Power Supply,” Mitch answered. “It’s like this huge battery. Dad has it for when the power goes out.”
“That’s what’s making the racket?”
“Yeah, it’s sorta like a smoke alarm.” Mitch yelled over the alarm’s annoying shriek. “Dad says it has to be loud enough to wake him if the power goes out at night.”
“Hand me the flashlight.” Allison reached out to Mitch.
Mitch skipped the beam around until it shone on her face then handed it to her.
She knelt down under the desk, taking the light with her. The darkness made the klaxon seem louder. Suddenly the monitor went black. A moment later, the room went silent. No hum from the computer, no buzz from the lights. The lack of noise was deafenin
g.
“What just happened? Where’re the computer lights?”
“I’ve turned it all off.” Allison sounded breathless as she stood.
“Why?”
“I can’t work with that noise.”
“Were you able to save your files?” Sloan wondered what kind of setback this would be.
“Yes. The unit probably has a thirty-minute life, but I didn’t want to take a chance. I’ll wait until the power is restored to turn the computer back on.”
“How long do you think that will be?” The storm had already delayed them. Although they hadn’t discussed it, there was probably a limited window on the FBI’s help.
“Not too long, I hope. In my e-mail, I told Tom to expect the program file tonight. The more time that passes, the greater chances the trail will go cold if we can’t implement it in the next twenty-four hours.”
She angled the light toward the floor, creating oddly-shaped shadows around them. The monitor, keyboard, and even the printer sat like worthless pieces of junk in an office that suddenly had no purpose. Everything they needed hinged on electricity.
Stranded in the middle of nowhere during a blizzard was one thing. With electricity, they could still make progress. Without power… How the hell did anything get done without technology? “So what do we do now?”
“We can build a fire in the fireplace.” Mitch chimed in with enthusiasm only a child could conjure. “That’d be fun.”
Allison hadn’t moved since turning off the power supply. She didn’t look like the malleable woman he’d held in his arms moments ago. She didn’t look like the imperial-cyborg in total control of her environment, either. She looked lost.
Without her computer, the circumstances had completely changed. The power going out was probably only the beginning. As warm as Sloan felt when his lips touched Allison’s, a more practical thought invaded his mind. “How cold will it get in the house if the power stays off all night?”
“Cold.” She bit her lip.
“How cold?” He pressed her.
She turned to face him and he felt, more than saw her icy glare. “The snow won’t melt tonight. How cold does it have to be to keep snow frozen? You do the science.”
The cyborg was back. “Damnit, woman—” He stopped, aware of his language with the boy standing beside him.
“We have a generator,” Mitch interjected. “Would that help?”
“I didn’t know that.” She swung the flashlight around until the beam landed on Mitch’s face. “When did your dad get a generator?”
Mitch shrugged. “I think he bought it a couple of years ago, when the power kept going out.”
A knot eased in Sloan’s chest. Thank heaven for small miracles. “Let’s go turn it on.” He took the flashlight out of Allison’s hand—ignoring the charged tingle as he brushed her fingers—and gave it to Mitch. “Lead the way, champ.”
After putting on coats, boots, and gloves, the three of them marched out the kitchen door at the side of the house. The wind stole Sloan’s breath and the flying snow stung his face. Allison and Mitch hunched against the storm as the flashlight’s beam skimmed over mounds of white.
It wasn’t fair to make the young boy plow the lane for them to follow, but if Sloan had been in the lead, they would have been lost in a matter of minutes. As it was, he didn’t see the looming side of the shed until Mitch pulled open the door.
“This is it.” Snow piled up behind the door as Mitch pushed it wider and shone the light inside.
The shed sat on a concrete slab. There was barely enough room for them to stand inside. Rakes, shovels, and pruning shears hung on wall hooks along with other garden tools. A lawnmower stood in one corner. Next to the far wall sat a generator.
Allison took the flashlight from Mitch and crossed to the machine.
“Do you know how this works?” Sloan followed close behind her.
Her back stiffened and she glanced over her shoulder.
“I know. Stupid question,” Sloan muttered. “It’s a machine. Of course you know how it works.” It was too dark to see her disapproval, but he felt it.
She turned back to the generator and shone the light around until the beam stopped on a cable. “That’s where it’s tied into the house.” She looked at the gauges before tinkering with some knobs. Then she unscrewed a cap and pointed the beam inside. “There’s plenty of gasoline. Let’s fire it up.”
She pushed a button.
The generator sputtered and died. She pumped the primer, twisted some sort of switch, and then tried again. This time the motor turned over.
The generator was noisy, its vibrations rumbling under Sloan’s feet and throughout the shed.
Allison studied it for a moment before she faced him and Mitch. “We’ll need to keep an eye on the fuel, but it should last us a few hours.” She smiled at Mitch. “Thanks to you, we can stay warm for a while.”
Mitch grinned.
Sloan didn’t feel as confident. “What happens if the power is out for more than a couple of hours?”
“We just add more gas. Right, Aunt Allison?”
She glanced around the shed, shining the light in a corner. “There’s another gas can.” She crossed to it and lifted. “It’s full. A tank might last for as long as twelve hours. But we may need to ration just in case the power stays off for a while.”
From the distasteful look on her face, Sloan knew she hated agreeing with him. He wondered if there were other alternatives, then remembered the fireplace inside the living room. “Is there firewood?”
“On the back porch.” Mitch gestured toward the house with a gloved hand. “That’s a good idea to get some.”
“Thanks.” Sloan was glad they didn’t have to dig the wood out of a snowdrift. “We’ll bring some into the house on our way back.” He led the way out of the shed.
In the few minutes they’d been outside, the snow nearly covered their tracks. He glanced the way they’d come. The house was still dark. “Where are the lights?”
Allison closed the shed door and pointed the flashlight along the path to the back porch. “I need to switch the power over inside the house.
Once they were on the porch, she handed the flashlight to Sloan. “Hold the light here.”
He steadied the beam as she opened a black metal box. A moment later, the kitchen light glowed through to the porch.
She took the flashlight while he helped Mitch gather logs and kindling. The first thing he noticed was the dark room beyond the kitchen. “Weren’t the lights on in there?”
Allison glanced around. “The generator is probably tied to specific circuit breakers. The fridge and freezer need to keep running. They draw the most amperage. I would imagine the furnace is connected, too. Everything else will stay off.”
“The computer?” He focused on the main issue.
“All of the office, including the computer, is on another breaker. I’m not qualified to rewire the connections.”
“You mean there’s something you can’t do?” He hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but this night just kept getting worse.
She gave him a hard glare. “We’ll move the PC into the kitchen.”
“Come on, Sloan.” Mitch waved a hand and headed into the great room. “The wood goes in here.”
Sloan gave Allison a sidelong glance. “At least you can still work.”
Her face froze in that don’t-cross-me cyborg stare.
This was going to be a long night. He followed Mitch and they stacked the wood in a box near the cozy-looking rock fireplace. After brushing dust from his coat, he pulled off his gloves and tucked them in a pocket.
As he took off his coat, the lights went out again.
Chapter Six
Allison’s childhood home went completely dark for the second time that night. Outside the blizzard raged, wreaking havoc on the world as much as Sloan wreaked havoc on her life since landing on her doorstep. She felt buried under an avalanche of problems with no rescue beacon.
Her brain went into overdrive, racing through all the possibilities, unable to answer why the generator stopped working. It had plenty of gas, and was running fine when they left the shed. She’d missed something, but what?
“I’ll go check it out,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. “You two start the fire.” She turned toward the door as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“Allison,” Sloan called from across the room. “Wait a minute.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t need any help.” She tugged the zipper up on her coat.
“I said, wait.” The hard edge in his voice stopped her.
“What?” She snapped the word out. It wasn’t fair to be angry with him. The fault was hers. This was just one more thing she’d screwed up and he had a front row seat. Regardless, it felt good to lash out.
She heard a click, and the flashlight caught her in its beam. She raised her hand to block the glare.
“You’ll need this.” He walked forward without lowering the light. Leaning closer, he whispered, “I wasn’t volunteering to come with you.”
She opened her mouth to say she was perfectly capable without his help, but his next words stopped her.
“I’m safer in here with Mitch and a handful of matches than in the snow with the Ice Queen.” He held out the flashlight and gave her a wink. “Frostbite is so painful. Maybe we can thaw you out when you come back.”
Allison snatched the flashlight from his hand, and rushed from the house before she smacked him with it. Keeping warm wasn’t going to be a problem—steam rose under her collar.
Once inside the shed, she took off her glove and unscrewed the gas cap on the generator. The gas level was right where it should be. Next, she checked the oil reservoir, wiping her finger inside. Empty. That didn’t make sense. She angled the beam along the lower part of the generator until she found the problem. A small pool of oil stained the concrete. With the slope of the slab, it must have run behind the generator. That was why she hadn’t noticed it earlier. She’d bet her last dollar that a gasket had failed, probably rotted or cracked in the cold, allowing the oil to leak out. Without oil, it would have only taken a few minutes for the motor to seize. Stupid. Stupid. And really stupid.
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