“Can you?” Sloan broke the long silence. “Can you prove you’re innocent?”
That Sloan even had to ask made her wince as if she’d been tossed in the blizzard with no protection. She felt totally abandoned. She squashed the pain around her heart. “You should have asked me sooner.” Spinning in her chair, she faced the computers.
“Don’t let her touch anything! She’ll destroy the evidence!” Tom grabbed her right shoulder.
Pain shot through her arm. Allison winced as she tried to free herself. Tom stood directly over her, his weight pressing down hard. With a supreme effort, Allison grabbed his fingers in her left hand and squeezed. Tom’s knuckles cracked against each other and he let go.
“Ouch!” Tom cradled his hand and looked wildly at the others in the room. “Stop her.”
Sloan hadn’t moved, only watched with hard impassivity. Agent Roberts seemed to take his cue from Sloan. Finally, Sloan crossed to her chair and looked down at her. “What are you going to do?”
That single question hardened her resolve. “I can do it faster than I can explain it.”
Sloan’s jaw clenched.
“But you’ll have to trust me,” she said quietly.
Agent Roberts stepped over to the table. “What do you want to do, Cartland?”
“You’re asking him?” Tom’s laugh rang hollow. “He can’t even program a coffeemaker.”
Sloan silenced Tom with a look that Allison hoped she would never see again. As bad as everything was right now, Sloan had never glared at her with such contempt.
Sloan looked over at Agent Roberts. “Is everything backed up?”
The agent nodded.
“So if she does something to compromise these files, we won’t lose anything?”
“Only time,” the FBI agent replied.
“We don’t have time.” Tom threw his hands open. “Mr. O’Neal wants this case resolved today.”
Sloan looked at Allison. His face didn’t give anything away. “We can spare a few more minutes.”
She felt a weight lift. He was giving her a chance.
“I’m telling you,” Tom insisted, “you’re making a mistake.”
Sloan dragged a chair over to the computers, and placed it next to Allison. “Then why don’t you watch what she’s doing,” he told Tom. “If there’s a problem, let me know.”
Tom walked over to the chair, but Sloan grabbed him by the arm before he could sit down. “If you lay a hand on her again, your fingers will never touch another keyboard as long as you live.”
Tom glared with something akin to fear in his eyes, but he nodded and sat, hands in his lap.
Allison inched away from Tom’s chair and gave Sloan a sideways glance. Did he believe her? Is that why he threatened Tom? She wished he would say something to give her hope, but his expression was closed. Her breath shook as she faced the computer. After reviewing the manufacturer’s information on the screen, she started typing.
The FBI systems were fast. Window after window popped up on her screen. She glanced over the information, checked it against the data on a second monitor, and then started typing again.
After forty-five minutes she stopped. With a single keystroke, the laser printer on the corner of the table hummed to life. She pulled the sheet of paper from the tray, glanced at it, and then handed the page to Sloan.
“The hacker’s physical location.” She pointed at the address. “Go there, and you’ll have your proof that I’m innocent.”
“Why didn’t you do this before?” Tom eyed her suspiciously. “How can you suddenly track this information down when it took months just to secure the firewall?”
“I’ve always had the skills, Tom. What I didn’t have before today was the name of the manufacturers who sold the hardware. I couldn’t get that information without breaking the law. The FBI is able to work around those constraints. They have warrants.”
She looked at Sloan. “I also traced the purchase from the manufacturer to the buyer by breaching several systems. You were all watching. The FBI doesn’t have warrants to breach those systems.” She turned to Agent Roberts and took a deep breath. “You’ll have to arrest me for that infraction.”
Sloan handed the paper to Agent Roberts. “Call for backup. We’re moving out now.”
She reached for her jacket.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sloan raised an eyebrow.
“With you.” She was surprised he would even ask. “Believe me, I want this guy. Now, more than ever.”
Sloan shook his head. “You’re staying here with Mitch. I made a promise to him, and I’m going to keep it. I’m not putting either of you in danger.”
“You mean you don’t trust me.” A bitter taste filled her mouth.
“I mean, if this pans out, you’ll be in the clear.” His tone was unyielding. “Until then, we have no choice but to keep you in custody.” He closed the distance between them. “I’m following orders, Allison,” he whispered. “Stay with Mitch and Agent Kane, you’ll be safer.”
He pulled her to him. Before she could protest, his mouth covered hers. The kiss was a full assault on her senses. Her gasp captured his breath as his lips seared through the shell she’d started to rebuild around her heart. Her resolve shattered as she let him in.
His kiss wasn’t tender, just thorough. Her response was immediate and absolute. He released her with a suddenness that left her breathless. When she looked up, she was staring at Sloan’s retreating back.
Chapter Fourteen
Riding along in the lead SUV, Sloan was relieved to be on the hunt for something that would close this case. He’d struggled with doubt on the plane to Los Angeles. The self-recrimination was hard enough, but tonight, as Allison boldly faced accusations from him and Tom, his doubts grew. Now he felt a driving need for resolution and wanted some action to make it happen.
Kissing Allison in front of the other agents wasn’t the smartest move he’d made all day, but the moment his lips touched hers, he’d known it was necessary. In his heart, he believed in her. She cared about her work, her family, and her country. O’Neal might understand Sloan’s gut feeling, but he wasn’t about to explain it to Tom or the FBI. Allison was loyal and honest. One of the most genuine women he knew.
From the moment he’d first received the news implicating her as the hacker, he’d felt it had to be wrong. He’d let little things fuel his doubt—cloud his judgment. Once he finished with this case, he and Allison would straighten out those little things—and more.
Sloan never disobeyed O’Neal’s orders. Dragging Allison to Los Angeles had been just that. An order. But he hadn’t been ordered to believe she was guilty. Her stricken face when she confronted them had been like a knife to his heart. Her brave request to prove her innocence convinced him she couldn’t be the hacker.
He realized now that she hadn’t been trying to distract him when she kissed him last night. At the time, she’d had no idea she was under suspicion. She’d given a part of herself to him. His lack of faith must have crushed her. His actions shattered her trust, and he hated himself for that.
Allison was a fighter. He’d experienced her stubbornness long before this case started. Her resolve was stronger than that mountain blizzard. When faced with their accusations, she’d lifted her chin and plowed right into the data on the computer to find the true culprit. And in that moment, he’d been so proud of her.
Even after his accusations at the safe house, she’d responded to his kiss. He could still taste her. Reliving her response gave him hope she would forgive him.
He couldn’t even think of her as his cyborg queen any longer. There were a lot of things he wanted to discuss with Allison. Foremost would be her forgiveness. Trust was hard-earned in any relationship. He wanted to win it back.
His thoughts about Allison—about where their relationship might lead—were unknown territory. His need was so great it scared him. He wanted to be the one to bring her out of her self-exile—to help her
heal from her survivor’s guilt. He wanted to watch her escape her past and rise out of her shell like the sun cresting the snow-capped mountains.
He’d felt like part of her family back in the cozy, snowbound house in Idaho. He’d been so proud of Mitch when he stood up for his aunt. Mitch and Allison showed a kind of devotion and sacrifice Sloan never experienced in his own family. Even when he and Allison were at odds, he’d felt complete. As if he’d come home. The last couple of days would be among his most cherished memories.
And now, the moments without her were an eternity. An eternity he’d have to get through so they could be together.
Thirty minutes after leaving the safe house, the task force reached the address Allison had told them was the hacker’s location. Both SUVs stopped in front of a three-story apartment complex in the seedier side of Hollywood. The target’s apartment was on the third floor in the middle building. Regardless of the palm trees, the place was not the glamorous location of movie stars. Sparse lighting pockmarked the narrow street. Cars that had seen better days huddled against the curbs. Sloan, Tom, and Agent Roberts climbed out of the first SUV. Four more FBI agents exited the second.
Tom scurried next to Sloan. “Are you out of your mind?” he whispered.
Sloan didn’t break his stride toward the building. “What are you talking about, Tom?”
“Kissing Allison like that.”
Sloan clenched his fists before he did something he’d regret. “It’s none of your business.” He’d never had a reason to dislike the meddlesome, pretentious nerd until he hurt Allison. Now Sloan wondered if Tom carried a grudge against his coworker, wishing he had her position in the lab.
“Of course it’s my business.” Tom hurried to keep pace with Sloan’s longer stride. “You’ve lost your objectivity. I don’t think you have Northstar’s interests as a priority. I think you’ve fallen for her. Or… maybe…”
Sloan whirled and Tom stopped short of crashing into him. “Or maybe what?”
Tom swallowed, but stood resolute under Sloan’s stare. “You’re making her believe you have feelings for her to get the truth.” Tom nodded to himself as though he’d figured something out. “That has to be it. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Sloan took a step closer. “Why does it make sense?”
Tom’s eyes darted sideways. “Think about it, Cartland. This is Allison we’re talking about. She’s not your type. No one’s gonna believe the two of you…” Tom’s voice trailed off.
Sloan wondered if O’Neal would care if he wrung the tech’s neck as he grabbed the man’s shirt in a tight fist. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t question my loyalties again. This conversation is over.” He released Tom and pushed him back toward the cars.
Tom swallowed hard. “Whoa! Back off. Just calling it as I see it.”
Sloan stared hard at the tech. Tom shouldn’t be out here. This raid was on an unknown person or persons. Tom wasn’t trained as a field agent and could be hurt if there was gunfire. He patted the 9mm pistol issued to him by the FBI when they left the safe house. “Wait in the car.” Sloan pointed a finger. “Until we’ve cleared the area.”
“You can’t send me away,” Tom protested. “I have to make sure no one touches the computer equipment.”
Sloan glared at him. “Once we’ve secured the place, we won’t touch anything until you arrive. Go back to the car.”
Tom looked as though he wanted to argue.
“Now.” Sloan commanded.
Tom flipped Sloan a rude gesture then stalked to the car, climbed into the front seat, and slammed the door. The tech was only present because of the computers they expected to find. But he was annoying as hell. And dead wrong about Allison.
Sloan would rather have had Allison here. Except the suspicion hanging over her head wasn’t going to disappear based on Sloan’s opinion alone. He’d had no choice but to leave her. She and Mitch were secure back at the safe house.
He followed Agent Roberts into the building and up a stairwell to the third floor. Two more FBI agents brought up the rear. The other two stayed outside the building, covering both the front and back exits.
When they reached the third floor, agents moved cautiously along the wall to the apartment door. Agent Roberts drew out his weapon. The other agents did the same, and Sloan un-holstered the pistol. The weapon’s weight and balance offered a measure of confidence in the unknown situation.
Sloan’s heart ratcheted up a notch, recalling the last time he’d approached a door with a gun in his hand. Had that really been only three days ago?
He much preferred profiling the bad guy before and during the investigation. When enough evidence was gathered to assure a conviction, he usually sat in on the interrogation. However, if this raid was successful, it would exonerate Allison. He took a breath to calm his racing heart.
Agent Roberts pounded on the apartment door.
“FBI! Open the door!” Roberts shouted loud enough for most of the residents on the floor to hear.
This late in the evening, people had settled in for the night. A few doors opened along the hallway and faces peered out, then quickly ducked out of sight after seeing the agents with guns and badges.
One door hadn’t opened.
Agent Roberts reached down and slowly turned the handle. Locked. Roberts holstered his gun, made eye contact with each man in the group and held up three fingers. Silently, he counted down, folding each finger, one at a time, into his fist. As the last finger disappeared, he kicked in the door.
Wood shattered, and metal buckled under the force of his foot. The door slammed against the wall. Another agent braced the door with the heel of his foot as Roberts retrieved his weapon.
Agents quickly filed inside and took up strategic positions along an entryway that led into the living space.
Sloan aimed his weapon at one corner, then the next. There was no furniture, except for a long folding table covered with computer equipment.
Keeping his gun at the ready, he walked up to the table in the center of the room. The other agents fanned out through the rest of the apartment. Shouts of “clear” echoed as each agent reported in.
No one was home.
Sloan slowed his breathing as he holstered his weapon.
The agents returned to the main room, checking and rechecking each corner. Only the hum of large fans broke the silence.
No windows were open, but Sloan felt a breeze as cold as a January blizzard blow over his face. This much equipment needed air-conditioning to run at an optimum.
“Don’t touch anything,” Sloan said to the agents. He nodded to Roberts. “Get Tom in here.”
“I’ll bring the crime kit, too,” Agent Roberts said as he left the apartment.
Sloan scowled. This was the address Allison had given them, but the bust wasn’t what they’d expected. Where was the hacker? Sloan stared at the monitors. One word scrolled across the screens in a continuous circle like a shark closing in on its prey.
Suckers!
A sinking cold settled in the pit of Sloan’s stomach.
“Catchy.” Tom smirked as he walked up beside Sloan.
“Got any idea what it means?”
“It means you’ve been suckered.”
Sloan jerked toward Tom who stepped back and dropped a black toolbox on the floor.
“I don’t get it.” Sloan tilted his head, still staring at the machines.
“I bet this is a clone.”
“What’s a clone?” Sloan stared at Tom, more than a little annoyed at his smug tone.
“All of this.” Tom waved his hand at the equipment. “It’s fake.”
“You mean this was set up to trick Allison?”
Tom threw a how-gullible-can-you-be look at Sloan and leaned toward him. “Allison knew she was sending us to a dummy location.” He studied the equipment on the table more closely. “You got played, Mr. Playboy.” He didn’t bother to hide the satisfaction in his voice.
&nb
sp; “You’re pushing a few too many buttons, Delano.” A slow burn rose up Sloan’s neck. He wasn’t wrong about Allison. He just couldn’t find fault in Tom’s assessment. Something here wasn’t right.
For Sloan to establish Allison’s innocence, he needed proof contrary to all the circumstantial evidence mounting against her.
“Hey, don’t touch that,” Tom snapped at an agent who had nearly tripped over cords. “How soon can you be done dusting for prints?” he asked Agent Roberts. “I want these machines moved to the FBI house so I can start dissecting them. The real clues are inside these babies.”
Agent Roberts gave a non-committal grunt and opened up the crime kit. Then he gave Sloan a nod and rolled his eyes.
While Agent Roberts dusted the table and computer equipment for prints, Sloan wandered through the apartment searching for something that would help Allison’s case.
He found nothing. Not even hairs in the bathroom. The word, Suckers, taunted him every time he glanced at the monitor. Someone was playing games with them. Someone who knew they would eventually find this apartment and the computers.
Tom hovered over the equipment like a vulture waiting to scavenge.
“Tom,” Sloan called as he returned to the table. “Why would someone set up a dummy system for us to find?”
Tom shrugged. “Can’t tell without looking inside. My guess is Allison bounced signals off this system from Idaho. It’s not unusual to see signals ping off several locations to hide the origin. Fortunately, we’re pretty good at tracing things like this.”
“Then get to it.” Sloan stepped away to think. He didn’t like the geek, but had to concede Tom knew his stuff. He made it sound like Allison had fooled them all.
Sloan tried to shove his doubts aside, but they surfaced again. He was trained to analyze problems as well as people. As he tried to piece the puzzle together, he wondered if Tom was right? Because Allison spearheaded the investigation, she could have kept the trail hidden—used a relay to make it look like the hacker was located in Los Angeles. She would’ve had to have an accomplice if that was the case. Other than the trip to Idaho, she’d been in Washington the entire course of the investigation.
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