He put a mug within reach of her left hand and sat down in the chair next to the desk.
“Thank you.” She lifted the mug and took a sip.
He could tell her mind was already engrossed with the program. It was his duty to observe.
While he watched her hands fly over the keyboard—her careful assessment of the data—he wondered how she turned off her emotions like flipping a switch. Not more than fifteen minutes ago, she had been the most passionate woman he’d ever held in his arms. Now she was an automaton, fingers moving robotically, stopping briefly before moving on to the next line of code.
To Sloan, the screens all looked the same. He didn’t understand what she was doing. Sure, some of the words were in normal English text, but the order in which she placed words next to numbers and random letters, breaks with quotes and brackets, made it look like a foreign language.
He remembered the file name she’d shown him yesterday. The other side of the screen displayed program code generated by the trace. He looked for patterns—a cipher to decrypt the gibberish. Eventually, he was able to discern sequences of lines, even though he didn’t know how to interpret what he was seeing. Was this enough to prove Allison was the hacker? If Tom saw these screens, would he be able to verify Allison’s guilt? Or was it possible she was covering her tracks, even as he watched?
Her lips were still slightly swollen from his kisses. The stubborn line of her mouth convinced him that if she was the real hacker Northstar was doomed—and if she wasn’t, the real criminal didn’t stand a chance. By the determination on her face, she was not about to be beaten.
Her fingers tapped out more lines of data, then stopped. She bit her lip deep in thought.
He recalled her taste, and warmth spread to his groin.
With a quick movement that didn’t even break Allison’s concentration, he stood and headed for the kitchen.
****
Allison briefly closed her eyes when Sloan left the room. Good. Stay away. How could she be expected to do her job while those smoky eyes watched every move she made? Unlike the night before, his spicy aftershave invaded her senses to the point she wanted to immerse herself inside him and never come out.
She didn’t have to guess what was wrong with her. She knew. She had completely, without condition, fallen in love with Sloan Cartland. One crook of his finger, one come-hither look, and her self-control deleted from her body. She wanted him so badly, she would welcome any advance.
Yet he kept his distance. She didn’t understand why. Wasn’t he the seducer? She’d literally thrown herself at him. What more of an invitation did he need?
Had her scars turned him off? She dismissed the thought. Turning out the light would hide her scars. Besides, he wouldn’t care about the disfigurement unless he was interested in a long-term commitment. Which he wasn’t.
Who was she kidding? Her lack of experience tipped him off. She didn’t have the sophistication to please him. She would never be in his league. If he hadn’t been trapped in her house, he’d have been long gone. It was humiliating to know she wasn’t attractive enough for a one-night stand.
To salvage her pride, she had to finish the program. Send him packing before she made a bigger fool of herself.
The computer screen flickered, mocking her inability to concentrate. The program demanded her attention now. She backtracked through the last few lines of her work and swore when she found a mistyped syntax. She was screwing up the job. With a deep breath, she ignored Sloan’s lingering scent and blocked everything out of her mind. It was a hard-won skill, practiced everyday since the shooting, but she could do it. She refused to fail this time.
For the next three hours, Sloan considerately placed cups of hot coffee within her reach. Her subconscious was aware of him checking on her and then on Mitchell, but she refused to let his presence interrupt her work. He was there, part of the scenery, but not part of her world. Not anymore.
Finally, she sat back and rolled her shoulders. Sloan was off to the side of the desk with his legs stretched in front of him and arms folded across his chest, eyes closed. When she moved, he opened them.
“It’s done.” She pointed at the screen.
He didn’t reply, so Allison continued, “I need some rest. I’ll review my work in the morning.”
“Why can’t you send it to Tom now? Let him review it.”
She bristled at his tone. “I will not let a first draft leave my desk. Tom will get it when I’ve looked it over with fresh eyes.” She set the computer in sleep mode and stood.
“What if the power goes out again and you can’t look it over?”
Doubt crossed her mind, but she dismissed it. “It won’t. The storm’s over.”
“Fine.” Sloan stood and looked at the computer. “We deliver the program in the morning.”
Allison watched him stride out of the office. He’d given in too quickly. That wasn’t the way they used to interact. His indifference hurt more than his biting comments. At least those she could counter. Now that they weren’t talking, she had nothing to battle.
As she turned off the office light, she hoped she was right about the power. The kitchen was dark and tidy. Sloan’s sleeping bag rustled in the living room, where he’d chosen to spend the night. With a heavy heart, but somewhat shielded again, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
****
When Sloan opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he noticed was his headache hadn’t improved through the night. The sound of running water and clanking dishes reverberated in his brain like a jackhammer.
The night had been long. When he had slept, which was damned little, visions of a tall, slender brunette invaded his dreams. She reached for him with open arms. He’d gone willingly and when those arms closed around him, a knife plunged in his back.
Was it betrayal, or payback for not trusting her? He didn’t know. If it was payback, he couldn’t blame her. Even in his dreams, he carried doubt about her guilt. All the evidence he had seen with his own eyes was circumstantial. If it weren’t for O’Neal’s direct order, Sloan would demand that she explain all the things he had seen.
What if this gut feeling was wrong and she wasn’t innocent? If he said anything, she still had opportunity to alert other associates. No. He had to play this out. He had to follow his orders, but he didn’t have to like it.
Mitch’s sleeping bag was rolled up. Sounds of breakfast came from the kitchen. Even after all the coffee he’d had last night, Sloan was more than ready for a cup.
“Hey. You’re up.” Mitch gave a toothy grin when Sloan walked into the kitchen. “The roads are clear, so I have to get ready for school. The bus will be here soon.”
Sloan finished buttoning his shirt and grabbed his cup from last night. “Where’s your aunt?”
“Taking a shower.” Mitch finished his breakfast with a slurp of milk from the bowl. “She was up early working in the office. She said to let you sleep.”
If the buses were running, that meant they could leave for Los Angeles today and join the task force. All he had to do was make sure Allison was there, too. Watching Mitch rinse out his bowl gave him an idea. Probably the worst idea he’d ever had, but it might work.
He hesitated. What he said and did in the next few moments would rock this little boy’s world. But if handled right, maybe any long-term emotional damage could be avoided. “Hey Mitch.”
The kid looked expectantly at him.
Sloan steeled himself against those trusting eyes. “How would you like to go to Los Angeles with me?”
“You mean it?” Mitch’s whole face lit up. “That’d be great. Do you think Aunt Allison will let me?”
“Well, she’s the reason I need you to come along. You see, I really need your aunt’s help, and our director wants her in L.A. She doesn’t think she should go because she promised your mom she’d take care of you. But if you came along, she’d be able to help me, and keep her promise at the same time.”
Mit
ch frowned. “My mom might not like me leaving. Who’d watch the house?”
“We’ll make sure it’s locked up.” He took a sip of coffee. “You’ll only be gone for a day. Maybe two at the most.”
The kid appeared to digest the information. “If we were only gone a day or two, we’d be back before Mom and Dad got home.”
“That’s right.”
“That should be okay.” Mitch put the box of cereal away. “I’d love to go with you guys.”
“I was hoping you’d see it that way.” Sloan took a breath and brazened on with the next issue. “Do you think you can convince your aunt that school won’t be an issue?”
Mitch’s shoulders sagged. “Probably not. She’s really strict about school. But you could talk her into it.”
“What makes you think I can?” He and Allison weren’t even on speaking terms right now.
Mitch gave a sheepish grin. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” He glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in with a whisper. “I’ve never seen Aunt Allison look at anybody like that.”
A jolt thudded against Sloan’s ribs. The giddy sensation lifted his headache fog. Last night, in the dark kitchen, Allison had come to him with soft, tentative kisses. He’d been suspicious of her motives. Was he wrong about her? Could Allison have genuine feelings for him? Was her kiss her way of showing she cared for him?
Then Sloan remembered what he was doing and felt sick. He was using Allison’s nephew to manipulate her into coming to L.A., where she would be arrested for betraying Northstar. The plan had already been set on track. He couldn’t allow personal feelings to interfere. This was his double cross, and out of loyalty to O’Neal, he had to bear it.
Allison entered the kitchen as Sloan drained his cup. He wondered how she could look as though she’d had eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Especially after she’d spent a good portion of the night staring at her computer. Before him stood the woman he knew from work, not the siren who’d invaded his dreams. Exactly how did she compartmentalize her emotions?
“Sloan’s taking us to Los Angeles today.” Mitch’s announcement stopped her in her tracks.
Her eyes narrowed and she glared at Sloan. He was pretty sure this was not the look Mitch had been referring to.
“We can’t. You have school.”
“He’ll only miss one day.” Sloan pointed out.
“Puleeaasse, Aunt Allison. Mom and Dad won’t care if they know I’m with you. We’ll lock up the house and everything. Besides, your boss wants you there.”
She glared at Sloan. “What exactly did you tell him?”
“The truth. I think he’ll have fun.” Sloan cringed at the lie. Mitch would never forgive him for what would happen to his aunt. But he had to get Allison to L.A. If using her nephew as leverage would accomplish that goal—and it was evident Allison couldn’t deny Mitch anything—then as much as Sloan hated it, he would use the leverage.
“Yeah, think of my real-life schooling.” Mitch played the education card like a pro. “My first trip to California and I get to fly on a jet. We could go to the beach when you’re done.” Hope gleamed from the boy’s eyes.
“No beaches.” Allison shook her head emphatically.
“Does that mean we’re going?”
Allison glanced at her nephew’s hopeful face and then glared at Sloan. He could sense her internal wrestling match.
“Catching the hacker will go much quicker if you’re there.” Sloan wasn’t above playing his own card to stroke her ego. “You know you want to be in on it.” He added the last, betting that if she was the hacker she’d want to see O’Neal’s face when she got her revenge. And if she wasn’t the hacker… He swallowed. He really hoped she wasn’t.
Allison glanced from Sloan to Mitch. “When will the two of you stop ganging up on me?”
Sloan wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt. She’d capitulated much faster than he expected. Mitch yelled and started a victory dance.
“Only for a day or two,” she cautioned. “First, we stop at the school to excuse you and drop off your history report. You will do any extra make-up assignments your teachers give you. Got it?” She gave both Mitch and Sloan a don’t-argue-with-me look.
Mitch grinned and nodded. “I’m gonna go pack my stuff right now.” He ran out of the kitchen.
When Mitch was out of earshot, Allison turned on Sloan. “That was unfair and you know it. I worked all night. I reviewed the program this morning and uploaded it onto the FTP site for Tom. I’m not trained for fieldwork. There is no reason for me to go to L.A. and expose Mitchell to danger. I’m sure O’Neal will understand.”
“This isn’t a typical field operation. Mitch won’t be in any danger. O’Neal wants you with the team. It will be just like you’re back at Northstar doing your magic with computers.” Sloan set his cup on the counter. “Think of it like one of those take-your-kid-to-work days. He’ll get a kick out of it, you’ll see.”
Allison looked doubtful.
Sloan swallowed to hide his internal turmoil. He had no idea why she gave in so easily. It didn’t bode well for her innocence. In a couple more days, it would all be over. If she was guilty, he’d never see her again. If she wasn’t… Well, she’d never forgive him.
Silence hung in the warm kitchen air. He felt the blood from a thousand little cuts of betrayal fill his gut and wondered if the sting showed on his face.
Then her gaze shifted away and she started to clean up breakfast.
He was congratulating himself on one of the best acting jobs of his career when she spoke again.
“You’re up to something, Sloan Cartland. I don’t know what. But I’m going to find out.”
Chapter Twelve
The vibrating cell phone jittered on the table. The buzz sounded out of place in the study of the Hollywood mansion belonging to Drew Getty’s mother. He grabbed the phone and stared at the text. The guy he’d sent to kidnap Allison had never made it to the house because the roads were closed. He was returning.
None of that mattered now. Allison Richards was on her way to Los Angeles.
Earlier, he’d intercepted an e-mail Allison sent to Tom telling him the script had been uploaded and ready. It was a bit tricky, but he’d accessed her file from the FTP site, identified where she’d found his malware footprint, and modified the code. Then he released her e-mail to Tom. Neither Allison nor Tom would see the delay.
His phone buzzed with another text. Drew smiled as he read the intercepted instructions from O’Neal to Tom telling the other tech to get to the bottom of the hack as soon as Allison arrived in L.A.
Yes! O’Neal was sniffing down the trail of bread crumbs Drew left without even questioning why the trail was there in the first place. All that negative publicity made O’Neal ready to place the blame anywhere but where it belonged—on his own arrogant shoulders.
Piece by piece, the plan was falling into place.
He glanced at the time. It wouldn’t be long now. Months of hard work were finally starting to pay off. A few difficult tasks still lay ahead, but with his careful planning and the help of his mother’s bodyguards, success was in sight.
Mother had been right about one thing: when paranoia sets in, most people become shortsighted. She wanted total destruction of Northstar Security Firm. Drew had to admit releasing Northstar’s case histories to the press had been a brilliant idea, but he’d convinced her a more subtle approach would better serve their needs. Just a couple of stories at a time. Keep Northstar guessing. Then, when everyone was looking the other way, he would walk in virtually behind their backs and take what he needed, and set up one of their own techs to take the fall. After the dust cleared, no one would know he’d been there. His family would finally be whole again. His brother would be cleared of all charges and the family’s good name restored. The authorities would never be the wiser.
The only cloud over the entire operation would be Dean’s return into Drew’s life. He loved his younger brother, but he
didn’t like him. Drew squelched the acid rising in his stomach. No point in rehashing the past. Dean had been stupid enough to get caught blackmailing a U.S. Senator, and in Drew’s mind, he’d deserved all the jail time the feds wanted to throw at him. If only Dean could learn to stay out of trouble.
But, Mother wanted her baby home. “Save him,” she’d cried to Drew. Never able to deny his mother, he’d found a way to make it happen.
Maybe this time, Mother would see which of her sons was truly the good seed.
****
There were two major routes out of Thunder Valley to Boise International Airport. The most direct highway was over the treacherous mountain pass, but because of the storm, that route wasn’t open yet. The other route, lower in elevation, was longer and the five-hour drive gave Allison a lot of time to think. Her automatic responses to Mitchell’s commentary about everything from the scenery to their destination seemed to leave him unsatisfied. Eventually, he turned to Sloan for conversation.
Sloan didn’t appear to mind. Although, he occasionally glanced at Allison for help fielding the nine-year-old’s questions. She was only half listening and didn’t feel inclined to join the conversation. Sloan had brought this entire mess on himself. It was his game. She needed to use the drive time to figure out the rules. Things weren’t adding up. Ever since the power came back on, Sloan had withdrawn even more. He seemed overly anxious to get to Los Angeles—had even used Mitchell to pressure her. Why?
Her program would work. She was sure of it.
Until this last attack, the hacker had never left a trail for her to follow. During the latest one, he’d been careless. Allison finally uncovered the single gem of information she’d been searching for. Her trap caught a partial e-mail address. Even though it was a partial, she designed her script to focus on that specific data. The result was a more complete trace than all her previous attempts combined.
Using the e-mail address, her script would trace the hacker’s footprint to its origination point. It would search through IP and MAC addresses and create a list. Once the list was compiled, the FBI task force could go to work.
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