by Dee Davis
“We belong together. Two halves of a whole.”
She nodded wordlessly, tears filling her eyes, her love for this man bigger than anything she could possibly have imagined. With a slow smile, he slid inside her, his strength becoming hers. The two of them intrinsically linked.
They began to move together, establishing their own special rhythm. Each stroke taking her higher, faster, until she felt like exploding, like screaming, and then she lost all control, the world splintering into brilliant color. The canvas of their love. She locked her legs around him, holding him close. Trying to bind them forever.
This was different from before. As if they’d crossed some sort of bridge, reaching the other side not as two people but as one. She’d never felt like she belonged anywhere. Always uncomfortable in her own skin. Always searching for something indefinable.
She knew the magic would end at morning. Knew that reality held threats they might never overcome. But right now, here in this room, she knew that she had found where she belonged—in a most unlikely way, in a most unlikely place, in the middle of a midnight rain.
“So how much of what you told me about yourself is actually true?” They were nestled together in the bed, energy spent for the moment, and John felt more content than he’d ever dreamed was possible. Especially when one considered the circumstances.
Katie raised up on an elbow, her long hair swinging over her shoulder. “Pretty much everything, except the physical therapy part, and my name.” She blushed and ducked her head, and John reached over to smooth her hair back.
“So why the FBI?”
“I wanted to do something with law enforcement.” She smiled at him. “It’s in my genes. Four generations’ worth. But my father had decided notions about what his baby girl was to do with her life.”
“I take it kicking in doors for a living wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Exactly. And he had my brothers for moral support. So I took the easy way out and got a law degree.”
“But you didn’t take to the bar?”
“Something like that. I guess the need to be part of the action was more powerful.”
“So why didn’t you become a cop like your father?”
She laughed, and the sound warmed him inside and out. “It would have been the kiss of death. My father’s reach is long, and if I’d even tried to join the force, he’d have had his cronies assigning me to permanent desk duty before I could have graduated from the academy.”
“I take it he isn’t as well connected with the FBI?”
“Oh, he has friends, but for the most part they stay out of my way. Something to do with being UC, I think.”
He pulled her close, nestling her into the curve of his arm. “You said something earlier about my case being a chance to prove yourself. What did you mean by that?”
She was silent for a moment, her breath warm against his chest, and he wondered if she’d share. Or if she was still keeping secrets. With a sigh, she tilted her head so that she could see him. “My last assignment was a RICO case. We were trying to nail a man suspected of involvement with the mob. In Boston. As part of the operation, I went undercover in one of his strip clubs.”
“As a stripper?” He fought against an irrational wave of anger, his mind conjuring up visions he’d just as soon not have seen.
“No.” Her laughter vibrated against his chest. “I worked the bar. Among my other talents, I make a mean cocktail. Anyway,” she continued, her tone more subdued, “while I was working there, one of the strippers, a girl named Stacey, had a bit too much to drink, and insisted that she was being stalked by an old boyfriend. The club’s manager. A guy named Walker Priestly.” She paused, and he stroked her hair, not certain where the story was going, but sensing it was a difficult one for her to tell.
“I blew her off. She was drunk. She was a stripper. I don’t know, maybe I was just worried about screwing up the assignment. Anyway, two days later, a customer finds her out back, her skull cracked open.”
She rolled onto her back. “It was my fault. If I’d listened to her, if I’d done something, she’d be alive.” She looked over at him, tears glistening in her eyes. “She was just a kid trying to find her way in the world, and when she reached out to me for help, I refused to listen.”
He cupped her face in his hand, his eyes meeting hers. “You couldn’t have known.”
She shook her head. “That’s just it, John. I should have known. It’s my job to protect innocent people.” She blew out a long breath, the act seeming almost cathartic. “Anyway, after they found her, I went to my superior and told him what I knew. Asked him if I could go to the police. But he was afraid it would compromise the investigation. He arranged for another source to get them the information, but they didn’t take it seriously.”
“So you decided to do something on your own.”
The ghost of a smile played about her lips. “Yeah. I was so angry at myself, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I went after the bastard, without a plan, and without backup. Just waltzed into his office and told him what I knew. Threatened to share it with the police if he didn’t turn himself in.
“I had a gun. But I hadn’t counted on his knife.” Reflexively she ran her hand along the ridge of scar beneath her breast. “He threw it before I realized what he was doing. And I guess he’d have killed me, except I managed to get off a round.”
“You killed him.”
She nodded. “And blew the operation in the process. Needless to say, the powers that be weren’t all that pleased with me. I spent three months on leave. Recuperation, they called it. And I spent most of it listening to my father tell me a hundred different ways how stupid I’d been. Which of course was entirely on the money. I let my heart get in the way of my head.”
“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.” There was a world of meaning in his words, and he felt the sharp intake of her breath.
“Well, you’re the only one who thinks so.” There was resignation in her voice, and something else—hope. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed to be rescued. “This assignment, your case, was supposed to be a new leaf. An opportunity to prove that I could follow directions, do as I was told, but—”
“But I came along and messed all that up.”
Her smile was weak, but genuine. “Something like that. The truth is, I think maybe I confused honor with duty. Sometimes the two aren’t the same. And in the end it’s got to be about honor. About doing what’s right. Even when it goes counter to what you’ve been told to do.”
“Heavy thoughts.” He pulled her on top of him, relishing the feel of her skin against his. “But good ones.” His smile was slow and sure. “Especially for me.”
She leaned down to kiss him, her hair dropping like a curtain around them. His lips captured hers, and despite all the danger that lay ahead, he felt absurdly at peace with the world, everything that he wanted right here in this room.
If only he could hold this moment captive forever.
As if she’d read his mind, she pulled back, her gaze locking with his. “We’ll find a way out of this, John. We’re together now, and that means we can do anything.”
He prayed to God that she was right. Because tomorrow, come hell or high water, they were jumping into the fire.
Chapter 25
The elevator doors slid shut with an almost silent whoosh. John pulled off his cap, and unzipped the coverall he wore, revealing pressed chinos and a dress shirt beneath. They’d made it past the first hurdle, walking past the building’s security guard with little more than a nod. She’d been right, no one paid attention to repair people.
He hadn’t even asked where she’d gotten the coveralls. He wasn’t really certain he wanted to know. She’d woken him this morning with hot coffee and a kiss, already dressed, her plans for getting into the D.E.S. computer room complete.
He watched now as she slid out of her coveralls, her movements quick and efficient, the pants suit beneath black and nondescript. He ma
rveled at her composure— the elevator floors were sliding by, and she hadn’t even broken a sweat.
She smiled at him in silent reassurance, and grabbed his coveralls, tucking them along with hers under a panel in the roof of the elevator. Taking a pair of glasses from her pocket, she handed them to him, the black frames a contrast to his carefully grayed hair.
With a quick flip, and the snap of a barrette, she pulled russet hair into a neat chignon, her smiling green eyes now brilliant blue. Briefcase in hand, she waited for the elevator doors to open.
Stage one completed.
The next round depended on him. And on whether the codes he’d liberated last night were still valid. They stepped into the hallway, grateful to find it deserted. It was still early, and not too many people had arrived.
Walking with purpose, they turned right, and headed for the computer room. If nothing had changed it should be unoccupied for the next couple of hours. Small beads of sweat broke out along his hairline, and he tried to tell himself this was no more than a physical hack, but the danger seemed more real.
And the stakes were certainly higher.
Last night had changed everything. Until that point, he’d been playing the game for himself. Now suddenly he was playing it for her, too. No, he corrected himself, they were playing it together. There was a difference. One that he wanted to adhere to. Together.
What a wonderful word.
He reached out to touch her hand, needing the momentary contact to bolster his courage. His leg ached, but he was determined to keep his limping to a minimum, even if it meant pushing his muscles farther than they wanted to go. Katie’d promised that no one would notice, that lots of people had awkward gaits, but he was still concerned that, despite their disguises, it would mark him for who he really was.
A door opened down the corridor, and he held his breath, his heart rate increasing incrementally with each passing second. A man in jeans and a T-shirt, carrying a steaming cup of coffee, came out into the hallway, his attention on the papers in his other hand.
Katie nodded almost imperceptibly and they kept walking, keeping their pace slow, almost leisurely. Which wasn’t an easy task when his instinct was to run. He wondered if she was feeling any of his fear, but a sideways glance confirmed that she was fine. The smile on her beautiful face as natural as if they were taking a stroll in the park.
The man passed them by with barely a glance, intent on his paperwork. John released his breath on a slow hiss. “I don’t know how you do this all the time.”
“It just takes practice. You’re doing fine. We’re almost there.”
He nodded, hoping his face didn’t reflect the racing fear inside him. They continued down the hallway, taking a right at the first intersection, the double doors at the end of the corridor their immediate goal. Just a few more steps.
“Can I help you?”
He turned around, smile firmly in place, his heart threatening to break out of his chest. An older woman in a paisley suit stepped out of her office, staring at them politely over the tops of her glasses, waiting for an answer.
“We’re due in the conference room for a presentation.” Katie’s voice was perfectly composed, just the right degree of pleasant. “My colleague is a little nervous, so I thought the walk might do him good.”
The woman nodded, her eyes softening. “I hate speaking in front of people. Especially if I’m trying to sell something.” She met his gaze, her smile understanding.
John blew out a nervous breath, forcing himself to return the gesture. “I’ll be fine. I just need to pace a little.”
“Don’t worry.” She gave him the once-over, her eyes reflecting her approval. “You’ll do fine.” With a last smile, she went back into her office.
Two for two.
Katie’s hand on his arm signaled it was time to continue the gauntlet. The doors loomed large in front of him, the big test still to come. Checking behind him to make sure the woman hadn’t reappeared, he opened a keypad near the doors, two red lights glowing ominously in the dim hallway lighting.
He entered a series of numbers, and waited with baited breath until the first light beamed green, then he entered a second string of numbers, followed by a third alphanumeric code.
The second light flickered and turned green, the sound of the doors unlocking seeming unnaturally loud.
“We’re through.” Katie was already moving through the doors, and John was quick to follow. Another hallway stretched out in front of them. “Where’s the computer room?”
“Third door on the left.”
She nodded, and they moved forward in tandem, stopping when they reached the proper door. Another key panel waited, and John dispatched this one with the same efficiency as the last, the final green light a signal that they’d reached their goal.
Stage two completed.
The computer room was cold, kept that way to protect the hardware, the floor raised, the walls specially designed, configured to protect the dollars invested here. This was his purview, and almost before the door closed, his confidence returned. Conversely, Katie seemed more nervous, peering through a crack in the door to the hallway beyond.
“Turnabout’s fair play.” The words were pitched low, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his voice.
“I’m fine,” she lied, “just get it done. We don’t have much time.”
He turned back to the room, searching for the right terminal. It had been a while since he’d been here, but fortunately everything looked the same. Finding the machine he wanted, he pulled a chair over in front of it, and began to type.
Five false starts and eight minutes later he was in. The trick now was to find the file, copy it, and get the hell out of here, before someone noticed there was an unauthorized user in the system. He’d designed the back door so that he’d be virtually undetectable, but nothing was perfect, and with everything that had been happening, he had no doubt that Harris had his people on alert.
“Are you in?” Katie’s question was terse, her eyes still trained on the door.
“Yeah. No problems so far. But I still have to find the file.”
She nodded. “So far there’s no one out there, but I don’t like staying in one place too long.”
“I’m hurrying.” He typed in a series of commands, using the word phoenix, initiating a systemwide search for Miller’s file. The computer moved with an agonizing slowness, every passing minute a risk of detection.
Finally a beep signaled that the search was finished. No sign of Miller’s file. He stared at the screen, his mind trying to think of another approach. The beginnings of a headache threatened to interfere, but he ignored the pounding, trying instead to think like Miller.
For a moment he could see the man’s face clearly, hear his laughter. It was almost like he was there with them. And in that moment, John knew what to do. His lips quirked into a half smile as he entered more commands. What better place to hide a Guardian file than on the Guardian system within the D.E.S. framework? Miller at his most ironic.
The computer hummed as it accessed his system, and when the appropriate box appeared, he typed in a series of numbers. Then before the code could be rejected, he typed another set of commands, and the computer grudgingly let him in. The search itself took only minutes. The file was buried in a series of subdirectories, but with the proper commands, it presented itself obediently when requested.
“I’ve got it,” he called over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the monitor.
“Great.” Katie’s voice was calm, but there was an undernote of urgency. “Can you copy it?”
“Hopefully. I’ll need to see how big it is first.” He clicked on the file and was surprised to see that it in fact contained a series of files, each containing documents and shortcuts to other existing files. “Shit.”
“What is it?” She moved away from the door to stand beside him.
“This is way too much to copy. Some of these are links to logs, from the look of them. I s
uspect to a particular part of the log. But I can’t copy all of it on a single disk.”
“So use more than one.” She sounded impatient, her eyes cutting back to the door, obviously listening for sounds in the hallway.
“It doesn’t work like that. All this stuff is linked together. It’s almost like he didn’t want anyone to be able to copy it to disk.”
She blew out a breath, her mind obviously considering this latest turn of events. “All right, then, we’ll just have to look at it. And hopefully you can copy enough to give us some sort of proof. Assuming, of course, there’s something there that can help us.”
It was the first time she’d sounded negative since they’d started the operation, and he reached out to squeeze her hand, trying to offer reassurance, wishing he’d never gotten her involved in any of this. Their eyes met and she offered a weak smile, squaring her shoulders, moving back to the door.
He returned his attention to the computer and began to examine Miller’s files.
D’Angelo hung up the phone with a decided bang, his temper rising. Edmund Roswell was a pain in the ass. Still, he’d called, and Eric had to admit that was something.
“What’s up? You look like your mother died.” Tony stood by his desk, coffee cup in hand, looking more rumpled than usual—but then, looks were deceiving.
“Just got off the phone with Roswell.”
“They find Brighton?” He sat down, and began the ritual of adding sugar and prepackaged creamer to his coffee.
“No. But Jason Pollock turned himself in last night.”
Tony’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “He give it up?”
“About the murders? No. Swears he had nothing to do with them. But he did admit to embezzling money. He’s got a gambling problem. And he also admitted that he paid Miller off. Seems Miller got wise to Pollock’s less than noble antics and demanded his fair share.”
“Sounds like reason enough to off the guy.”
“Probably, but he didn’t. At least not according to Roswell.”
“So you thinking Brighton is guilty?”