Jenna: Present high level details on Detective Colin O’Brien, New York City.
Jason: Age: Thirty-five. Currently assigned to the Joint Terrorism Task Force. Former Marine. Honorable discharge. Master’s Degree from Fordham University. Single. Divorced. Resides in Brooklyn.
Pleased, I pay the cabby, lower my headset mic, and order a double latte. When traffic thins, I run across all four lanes of Seventh Avenue.
“Jason, what’s my first appointment?”
“I had to move your nine AM with Dan Chiang to eleven AM.”
“Who scheduled that?”
“Special Agent Drew.”
A little out of breath, I leap onto the sidewalk and land at my building’s front door. It wasn’t Wonder Woman but not bad.
The security camera detects me, the door buzzes, and the elevator beckons. Instead, I turn into the stairwell and dash up the stairs. By the seventh floor, I’m huffing. At the eighth, I stop to catch my breath before walking inside my office.
My coat goes on a peg and my vertical blinds close automatically. “Jason, call Agent Drew.”
When the FBI agent pops up on my screen, I lean in so he can witness my totally pissed-off expression. “God damn it, Drew, I was almost incinerated this morning. What were you thinking? Reschedule. I can’t deal with the Chinese today.”
“No-can-do.” His smirk, like always, is smug and not one of his black hairs is out of place.
This cloak and dagger stuff drives me nuts. “You know what? It’s been a rough morning and as I’ve told you before, I need more than an hour’s notice. Why do you insist-”
“-Put a lid on it, Doctor Jones.”
Taking a deep breath, I pace in front of a bulletin board full of framed photos, stick figure drawings, and thank you cards. These people are what really matters. If it wasn’t for my runaways, I’d pack up my stuff and move back to New Hampshire. So instead of telling this asshole what he can do with his clandestine meetings, I kick off one sneaker so hard that it bounces off the maple wainscoting. The second one hits my office window with a loud bang.
Drew’s nose fills the monitor. “What the oval office wants, it gets. You want to discuss this with him, go ahead. I don’t give a fig.”
What an arrogant prick. Outside of his purview, I stick out my tongue. “You know, sometimes I have a hard time figuring out who the good guys are.”
“Don’t worry your pretty super-brain. All you need do is sell a dumbed-down version of Jason to the Chinese. That’s not so hard, is it?”
“Actually, it is. Especially with the narrow time frame.” And working with a condescending prick like you.
“What’s the big deal? Just make it work for a few days and then let it crash.” He obviously doesn’t know his client-side from his server-side.
Sitting, I slip on my heels. “Let me try this again. We’re giving the impression of full disclosure while selling the Chinese smoke and mirrors. It’s not right.”
I almost tell him the real reason I don’t want to deal with Chiang, but not yet. Not until I know more about what the CIA agent is up to.
“Deal with it. The U.S. government is your biggest client. Wait. You’re not thinking they can steal it, are you?”
It’s amazing that this guy manages to keep his job.
I let him hear my loud exasperated sigh. “No. I’ve told you before. Jason writes its own code. It’s at…well the language is at the level of the server. No human, no matter how computer-savvy, can decompile it. Basically, it’s steal-proof. Okay?”
Jason interrupts, “Excuse me. Dan Chiang is at the door.”
“Buzz him in.”
Muttering a small prayer of thanks, I give a curt goodbye and hang up on the FBI agent. Then I stride down the hallway and greet my supposed Chinese buyer in the elevator door. Day dreams about Colin O’Brien will have to wait until later.
“Chiang xian shan ni hao, Good Morning, Mr. Chiang. Please step this way.”
I try to keep it one hundred percent professional but when he shakes my hand, he holds on so long that even I can tell it’s inappropriate. Then he follows me into my conference room. One side has a great view of Seventh Avenue. On the opposite wall, I’ve hung my prized collection of Wonder Woman dolls, dating back to 1940. Red, white, and blue reflect on chrome, reminding me of my duty to country and why I put up with this nonsense.
“Ah, Jenna, it’s been too long. Why haven’t you returned my calls?” ‘Long’ comes out as ‘wrong’ in a comic cliché of a Chinese accent.
I hold back a giggle. Dating Dan in a weak moment in my life had been a really bad idea. Even though he’s partially Chinese, he’s no more just-off-the-boat than I am. He sets two cardboard cups on my glass table and pulls off the plastic covers.
When he lifts one to his lips, he blows over the top and whispers into my ear. “I brought you coffee. It’s steaming hot. Tell me, how do you take it? Strong? Black?”
“Actually, I prefer it light.”
“Understood.” His voice holds a tight edge as he steps away from me.
Jason comes to my rescue in my headset. “I believe Mr. Chiang is engaging in sexual banter. You may have insulted him. He has insinuated that you would like him as a sexual partner, as he is both strong and black.”
Really? Rats. I hold the coffee cup to my lips and try to mimic his expression. “Uh… Thank you, but no. Hot and creamy… I mean steamy… is very nice but really, I just ordered my own.”
This is as good a time as any to duck into my office and pull out the laptop reserved for clandestine transactions.
In a heartbeat, CIA agent Dan Chiang stands behind me, massaging my shoulders. “Sorry, Jen. Next time I’ll try not to come on so strong. Are you ready to SFTP the code onto my site?”
I reach back to remove his clinging tentacles. “Let’s focus on the work. Okay? As soon as I have confirmation that your money is in my account, I’ll proceed with the transfer.”
“You seem a little more uptight than usual. What’s bothering you?” He knows full well what happened to me this morning. I am certain that the CIA keeps tabs on me.
Seriously? “I’m fine.” It can’t be so difficult to know I’m miffed.
“I’m just worried. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” His eyes narrow slightly and he tenses.
My God. Is that another threat? I can’t finish our transaction fast enough and escort him out the door. When I hold out my hand to shake goodbye, he uses it to drag me close and plant a sloppy kiss on my lips.
It’s not bad, but he’s not Colin. Then he lets go with a wink and heads down the elevators.
Finally. I can settle down to some serious day dreaming.
I’m not sure how much time has passed but my neck is stiff when Jason pops up on my IM. “Grace is here. Should I buzz her in?”
“Yes.”
I stand, peek behind my window blinds, and my stomach growls. Far below, the city is thick with rush hour traffic, both reminding me it’s late and I didn’t break for lunch.
When the elevator dings, I run out into the hall squealing, “Grace! I’m so glad you came. I’ve missed you so much!”
“How y’all doin’?” Today she’s sporting sleek black jeans, a bomber jacket and burgundy hair.
Our hug lasts a good long time before I let go. “Fine. Fine. C’mon in. Glad you got rid of the gray.”
“Thanks. Had ‘em take a few inches off the top, too.” She eases into the overstuffed lazy-boy reserved for her visits.
“Want some?” Standing at my coffee-maker, I hold up a pod.
“Sure. Plain ol’ joe, that is if you got any.”
“Got one that says just that. Oops. No. I lied.”
We snicker at the old joke, I close the drawer, and push a button. Then while I put out cream and sugar, Grace digs into her purse, pulls out her new tablet, and struggles with some clicks before sliding it across my desk.
“Smart pad, my ass.” She slurps, watching over the tops of her
bifocals while I review the costs in the spreadsheet.
Oh my God. At this rate, we may need to rent another building and hire more staff. “Any chance that one of the girls can go home or has family to take them in?”
“Marie’s working on it. We placed Carrie this week. Her mom just got out of rehab and it looks promising. We’re still figuring out her school logistics.”
I scroll down some more and then shocked, coffee spurts out of my mouth. “Get out of town! Joe’s donating day-old bread? That old coot?”
Grace wiggles her eyebrows and laughs. “And hiring a few of our gals as waitresses. This ol’ broad’s still got it goin’ on. Oh oh. What time is it?” She glances at her ancient Timex. “We’re getting Chrystal out tonight. Remember? The girl with the brute of a husband? I got to go in a minute. But enough stalling, what happened today, Megan?”
“Jenna.” I correct her, for the zillionth time.
“Whatever.” Grace has got the nose of a bloodhound, especially when it comes to me and men or rather the lack thereof.
I lean back and decide I might as well spill the beans. “So I guess you heard about the terrorist on the news this morning?”
“Uh huh, I did. Was that your Jason-thingy?”
“Yeah. It was his first trial run.”
Grace puts her cup down and walks around my desk to embrace me. “Thank God you’re okay. You need to be more careful, hun.”
Even after all these years of being her foster daughter, a lump forms in my throat. It feels so good to be loved unconditionally. My birth mom would’ve started a whole tirade of how I screwed up and probably will, if I call her which I won’t.
A cotton handkerchief comes out of her purse and she blows. “There. Now that we’re done bein’ emotional, tell me about Colin O’Brien, the adult version. He was always pretty special to you, as I recall.”
“I don’t think he recognized me.” An all-too-familiar pain cuts deep into my heart. Guys don’t remember me. I’ve never been that type.
Grace hears my tone. “That’s not so surprising, is it? You were what, twelve? Thirteen? And you’ve lost maybe fifty pounds?” Then she stares for a moment, her mouth wide. “My God. You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“It’s complicated.” I was such a fat little nerd. Why would I remind him? He seemed to like what he saw. How would it change if he made the connection?
“I’m guessing he hasn’t changed all that much.”
“He’s just as handsome, actually even more so.” And so much more intense.
Suddenly I’m conjuring Colin O’Brien with his lips all over my body. “He’s like those macho guys in the Ford truck commercials. Those actors have dark stubble, strong jaws and look like they just rolled out of bed. Then there’s these deep blue eyes that pierce right through you.”
I half-moan, half-giggle. “Oh man. I got it bad.”
Toy-sized cabs move to the beat of the traffic lights and people dash between cars to get wherever they were going. Rush hour.
Everyone else is in a big hurry but I sit, sigh, and slurp on some caffeine. “He called me. Said he’s stopping by tonight. Wants to apologize for some such thing. He thinks he insulted me. He may have but you know me. If he did, it went way over my head. What am I supposed to do? Tell him the truth? That I’ve fantasized about him for years?”
She cackles. “Do whatever comes natural.”
And that’s why I love Grace.
It’s a couple hours later when Jason makes me jump as he breaks into the silence. “Detective Colin O’Brien is downstairs at the front door. Should I let him in?”
“Huh? Oh yeah. Sure, sure.” I check the time, hit save, and stand. I’d tried to dig deep into bug-fixing to force images of him out of my brain but it hadn’t worked. Did I dare hit on him? Ask him to stay the night?
My foot’s asleep so I’m jumping up and down in the hall when he steps out of the elevator. He’s so friggin’ handsome that my nipples harden. Nervous about what I’m going to attempt, I laugh at the Chinese characters on his yellow plastic bag.
“Am I funny?” He glances down at his black t-shirt and jeans, eyebrows raised.
“No, no. Not you. It’s your bag. It says, ‘No good for you Chinese every day and night food.’” I point out the hanzi characters.
“Good.” A grin spreads across his face, he leans forward, and brushes a just shaved cheek against mine.
His musky aftershave sends my pheromones racing more. Then my knees go weak and my heart thumps. It would be so much easier if I could just be blunt and tell him how much I want to have sex with him.
This never happens to me. Recently, I thought the lips between my legs were broken. If it weren’t for the device beside my bed, I would be certain. Then, today, when I saw him in the restaurant, it was like a drenching rain in a desert, candy after lent.
“Hi, umm… Detective.” I shoot out my hand.
“It’s Colin, please.” He shakes but doesn’t let go.
“Okay then Colin, come in.”
I can’t help but compare his handholding with Dan’s. One was like holding onto a wet lettuce leaf, the other, well let’s just say a hot sausage comes to mind. Oh yeah. Did I mention? From the top of his jet black hair to the soles of his Nikes, Colin O’Brien oozes sex.
Alarms clang in my head. He’s way, way out of my league.
Tell him the truth, Jones.
Why? It won’t matter. In a few minutes he’ll look at his phone and excuse himself for some perfectly valid reason, glad that the almost-date is over.
It’s time to play my version of the dating game. It’s called ‘How long before I chase him away?’
“Wine?” My internal stopwatch starts.
At my conference room’s small fridge, I hold up a pleasant chardonnay, determined to go through the motions.
“Sure.” He seems like he might stay but with my disability, I can’t be sure.
“Interesting collection.” Oh-oh. Here it comes. A new world’s record. He pauses at each display case with his nose to the glass and stops in front of my favorite doll.
“That one is circa nineteen-forty, a one-of-a-kind. I searched for years.” Ten, nine, eight…
“No kidding? And is that Linda Carter’s lariat? From the TV show?”
“I got that at an online auction.” Seven, six… My employees love my Wonder Woman collection but they’re a lot more like me. My heart sinks. I’m not even going to get a chance to seduce him.
My corkscrew is the cheap kind. Despite the towel around the bottle and my knees around that, the darn thing won’t budge. I need alcohol courage. Now.
“Here, let me do that.” Colin pours, I gulp, and then I almost choke when he says, “The red sneakers make a lot more sense now.”
I lift an expensive heel to prove I have excellent taste in shoes. “These are much more work appropriate.”
“Agreed. Very nice.” Colin’s gaze lingers on my ankles then slowly moves up my thighs, waist, and chest. My nipples harden and I’m pretty sure neither one of us is thinking shoes.
First and ten. Only nine more yards to go for a touchdown.
When I put my empty glass down to pry off the covers from the Chinese food, I’m watching him instead of what I should be doing. My hand slips and egg drop soup splashes the front of his shirt. Dear God, I’m so pathetic.
“Sorry.” I dab at his rock hard pecs with a paper napkin, getting more and more flustered each time I touch him.
All the while, Colin just keeps smiling. What’s up with that?
“I’ll be right back.” Obviously I’m in need of a serious timeout.
Dashing into the lady’s room, I take deep breaths while wiping at the wet stain on my white silk blouse, making it worse. I can do this seduction thing. The beautiful woman in the mirror nods and agrees. Sometimes I’m still surprised to see her and not the fat round face of my teenage years.
When I return, his head tilts and his brows crease. “I’m sorry. Am I making
you nervous, Doctor Jones?”
“Please. Don’t apologize. And call me Jenna.” I give him my best seductive smile and cover his hand with mine.
Then there’s this long awkward silence while we touch, electricity zapping. My brain strives to find something, anything to talk about, but all I can think about is his hands all over my body.
Perhaps I should mention his appearance? He’s wearing a crisp JTTF tee. His tight black jeans are paired with a loose black sports coat, no doubt hiding a gun and holster. He’s got perfectly straight teeth and deeply intense blue eyes under damp, spiky black hair. The man could grace the cover of GQ. Where to start?
“You look great.” I groan internally.
That’s the best you got, Jones?
“Thank you. Right back atcha.” He squeezes my hand and smiles.
Maybe he thinks I’m funny. Unfortunately, now it’s my turn to resume the stunning conversation.
I got nothin’.
Giving up for the moment, I dig into the beef and broccoli and after a few bites try again. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He raises his chopsticks with a theatrical flair, extracts a piece of beef, and places it between two kissable lips. “Honestly? I’m enjoying watching you. You’re easy on the eyes. Thanks for having me over.”
“Thanks for being had.” My comeback scores a chuckle and I place a second checkmark on my internal tally sheet.
“Cute. Speaking of being had, you pulled a fast one this morning.” He stares, no doubt waiting for my reaction and I try not to show disappointment.
What were his exact words when he invited himself over? Something about wanting to discuss my software. I was so excited to hear his voice, I’d barely listened.
Hopes dashed, I glance at the time. It took ten minutes. Screw it. This is so not a date and sex is probably off the table. I finish off another glass of wine, take a huge bite of Szechuan, and hope he’ll think the tears are from the chili peppers.
For the first time tonight, his confident smile disappears. “Hey, don’t take it that way. I was just talking. Sorry.”
Blinking hard, I’m pleased how well my waterworks stay put. I wanted to have sex with him so much that I lost touch with reality.
Dangerous Code Page 3