Perfect Design_A Reverse Harem Romance

by Bethany Jadin

  Jeremy turns to me, his innate need to defend his inflated ego kicking in, just as I’d hoped. “You can call it paranoia or whatever you want, but the rest of the world knows it as due caution, Emma. If you’d practiced it all those years ago, you wouldn’t be in this position now, would you?”

  Once our double agent had informed us that BHC planned to triple the security detail for my arrival today, Jude and Gunner ran me through several practice conversations with Jeremy, to try to learn what they might know that would lead to such measures. As good as all their suggestions were, I was with the Jackass for longer than I care to remember, and I know exactly which buttons to push to get results.

  I take my purse from my shoulder and begin rummaging. “I’m sorry, do you want to inspect my lipstick?” I hold it up to him, and he just gives me a dry expression. “Maybe it’s actually laced with poison and I’m planning to take you all out with a deadly make-out session.”

  I drop the tiny cylinder on the elevator floor and pick out a pen, reaching it out to Jeremy. “I was planning on using this for a shank. You should totally take it. Disarm me while you have a chance.”

  Jackass isn’t amused, but he remains silent.

  Letting the pen fall to the floor, I grab my lotion. “Wait, hold everything. This is actually liquid explosives. I was going to use it to blow my way out of here.”

  “Careful, babe. It’s just the two of you in there. I don’t want him to hurt you,” Trigg warns.

  He doesn’t need to worry. Jeremy’s too much of a punk bitch to get physical. And if he did, I’d claw his goddamn eyes out right here in the elevator.

  Jeremy’s trying not to give me a response, but I see his jaw twitch with irritation, and I know he’s right on the verge of giving me a smartass retort — one that I hope is revealing. Despite Trigg’s note of concern, I know I have to push a little more.

  The elevator dings, and the doors slide open as I drop the lotion. Jeremy steps over it and leaves the elevator. I look past him, taking in everything. So, this is the executive floor. The décor and color palette is less dark and gloomy than I’d imagined, but it’s still the devil’s den as far as I’m concerned.

  When he turns to see why I’m not following him, I make a big show of pulling sunglasses out of my purse and putting them on. “Just to be cautious, you know, so when the men in black come in to wipe everyone’s memories, I’ll be safe.”

  “Oh, for fuckssake, grow up,” he snorts.

  I give him a deadpan look. “I’m not the one who felt the need to call in an army to guard the castle against an unarmed woman coming here alone to meet on your turf.”

  The muscles in his face tighten as he stares at me, fighting hard to keep his mouth shut. Perfect. I press on.

  “Guess that says a lot about exactly how big your balls are, doesn’t it?” I ask with a sweet smile. “So paranoid you can’t even manage a simple software hand-off without needing a bunch of minions to protect you.”

  Jackass steps back toward the elevator and slams a hand against the slowly moving sliding door, keeping it open. “Oh yeah? Paranoid, huh? Then tell me, cupcake, why haven’t we been able to track where all those assholes of yours are today? Hmm? It’s a Tuesday, and none of them seem to have left their penthouses. They’re mysteriously absent from work and seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Why is that, Emma?”

  “Great job, babe,” Trigg says over the comms as soon as Jeremy’s done spilling the beans.

  I swallow down my elation at getting him to reveal the source of his concerns and turn up both hands like I have no idea where they are. “Maybe they’re having a spa day. They do love mani-pedis and those seaweed facials.”

  His eyes narrow at me threateningly, but I can see the flush along his neck, just above his shirt collar. I’m getting under his skin, and I’m enjoying every second of it.

  “Yeah, a fucking spa day,” he spits. “I’m sure that’s it. Or, maybe they’re planning something. Maybe they’re looking for an opportunity to strike back today. I don’t think for two seconds they’re still actually in that apartment building.”

  “What’s going on here?” The Ice Queen strides up to us, eyeing the accumulation of goods on the floor of the elevator.

  I take off my sunglasses as well and drop them on the floor as I push past Jeremy. “Mr. Brandt was just making sure to disarm me of all my weapons.”

  Jeremy purses his lips and averts his gaze when the Ice Queen throws him an exasperated look. Good. If I don’t make it out of here, at least I pissed off Jackass one last time and made him look like the worthless asshole he is.

  The Ice Queen extends a hand toward a corridor to the left, directing me to walk with her. “I know both of us would like this to be over as quickly as possible. Just enter the source code, and you can go. We’ll transfer the money in stages as you work the code into our system and we test it.”

  “You can keep the money, I don’t want it.”

  Her voice is flat and unfeeling. “We’ll be transferring the money, whether you want it or not. It’s certainly not to do you any favors — we simply need proof that we fulfilled our part of the contract.”

  We walk quickly through the building, and my eyes skirt to the left, spotting the small hallway Jude had pointed out on the floor plans. I know it leads to the maintenance areas of the building. Twenty-one floors down, Jude and Jax are waiting at the bottom of the service elevator shaft for Trigg’s signal that I’m in place.

  Jeremy was absolutely correct that the guys aren’t in their penthouses today, and they aren’t at the Pentabyte offices, either. All five of them left from the apartment building’s underground parking garage. After meeting up with a team of FBI agents, they spread out. Some of them ended up in BHC’s parking garage after arranging transport in a van belonging to the cleaning company. And the rest headed to the buildings nearby — Trigg to set up his sniper’s nest and the others to gain access to the roof from an adjacent building. Multiple agents from the FBI team should be inside now, under various guises — posing as delivery men, cleaning staff, and other daily visitors that typically blend into the background.

  It’s quiet in here today, almost like most of the staff is absent. Or maybe it’s always this eerie here on the executive floor where they spend the day doing the devil’s work. The clicks of the Ice Queen’s heels are ricocheting off the slate flooring like bullets firing in a tomb of silence.

  We all went over this plan at least two dozen times, and I studied the blueprints and floor plans until I had them memorized, so I know without a doubt that we’re heading north right now — directly toward the executive offices which line the north face of BHC’s corporate building — exactly where we hoped they’d lead me. As little as it is, just knowing the plan is on track so far gives me confidence. Assurance that even though we are just getting started, things are going just how we anticipated, from Jeremy hamming it up in front of the reporters downstairs to the Ice Queen leading me straight to the executive offices.

  And soon, I won’t be alone — even if it is being seen through the scope of a high-powered sniper’s rifle. Once we’re out of the corridor, Trigg will have sights on me through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The thought fortifies me further.

  Unlike the offices at Pentabyte, whose interior walls are made of glass — an intentional design to signify the atmosphere of openness and transparency — the offices here at BHC are completely enclosed and designed for maximum privacy. From the blueprints, I know the general size of each room we pass, but not what lies behind the thick wooden doors. It isn’t until the Ice Queen opens a door with a brass plate labeled Teresa Reinhardt that I can see half a dozen stony-faced men and women sitting around a table inside, waiting for us.

  I draw in a slow, deep breath as I enter the room. This is it. I know what I need to do, and nothing is going to stop me from seeing it to the finish, but for a second, I’m overwhelmed with how much steel, concrete, and distance there is between
me and my men.

  If I’d been expecting fanfare, I would have been severely disappointed. No one says a word to me, and there are no introductions from either Jeremy or the Ice Queen. Everyone just stares at me expectantly. Of course, they know who I am. I’ve been a thorn in their sides for months. There is malice in their eyes and irritation in the scowls on their faces. These are the people behind the scenes, the ones who’ve been orchestrating the misery BHC has unleashed against me. The ones who’ve been growing more enraged by the day that their tactics weren’t effective. They’re tired of waiting and have no polite words of courtesy to share with me now that I’m finally here to hand over the program.

  The Ice Queen wastes no time, gesturing for me to move with her to a work station, where a computer is waiting for me. “By all means, proceed,” she says, crossing her arms impatiently.

  I take a short moment to look out the window, eyeing the skyscraper in the distance. He’s in there somewhere. I know exactly what room, but there’s no way for me to tell from here which one it is, not without taking the time to count floors and windows. The only tall building immediately adjacent to BHC is on the south side, with no view of the executive offices. Gunner and Daniel are using it to gain access to the roof, but it’s useless to Trigg. He feels so far away, even though he assured me a few city blocks was nothing for him, and I know he can see me in fine detail through the powerful scope of his sniper rifle.

  I take a deep breath as I hear Trigg’s voice. “I’m right here with you, babe. Let’s confirm you can still hear me, okay? Put your purse on top of the red folder at the corner of the desk.”

  Reflexively, I almost nod but catch myself before making the movement. Following Trigg’s instructions, I take the strap from my shoulder and lay the purse on top of the folder.

  “Good. Comms are functional. Now, just as we planned. I’ve got eyes on the room, and I won’t let anyone fuck with you.”

  I suppress a smile. Trigg is like an angel watching over me — a badass angel with a killer aim. Knowing he can see me, feeling him here with me, it helps keep my nervousness from boiling over. I take another deep breath, doing my best to calm and center myself.

  It’s go time.

  I take the USB drive out of my front pocket. It’s an ingeniously tiny piece of equipment to contain the amount of information and technology hidden inside. Not only does it harbor the entirety of my source code, but it also has the FBI program designed for rapid-fire downloading and transmitting of information — file by file.

  As long as my source code is downloading into BHC’s vault, the FBI’s program should be able to mask that the drive is also copying data and sending it out via the tiny but powerful wifi transmitter built into the device. Every agent participating in the raid today, as well as each of the guys, are equipped with small, short range receivers and transmitters that form an ad-hoc mesh network. Our hope is that the frequency will be low enough to avoid detection by any scans BHC does.

  There’s a lot of unknowns — will my program download slow enough to ensure we have time to get all the files transferred from their vault? Will BHC pick up on the transmissions from my USB? Will the team be close enough to receive the signal? Will all the equipment work flawlessly to deliver all the data to Daniel’s laptop up on the roof?

  I say a prayer for all of us and scoot my chair forward, ready to begin the transfer, but the Ice Queen holds a finger up to me, signaling me to wait. Jeremy sits down at the desk beside me, adjusting a dual monitor setup, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

  A moment later, he turns to me and nods. “Go ahead. I’ll be watching every line.”

  I plug the drive into the USB slot, double click to open it, and instruct it to copy to the main drive. A small window pops up, asking for a password. The Ice Queen nods at Jeremy, and he enters something from his keyboard, and the window disappears, replaced by a second pop up requesting biometric confirmation. She holds her thumb to the upper right corner of the screen for a few seconds, until a soft beep indicates the scan has been accepted. A second later, the transfer begins.

  Even though Jeremy is watching everything from his station, she still leans over me like a hawk, staring at the stream of files scrolling rapidly up the screen as my program starts to download. That means the FBI’s program is running as well, siphoning files from BHC’s vault. I watch the lines of code fly by on the command prompt screen, my eyes darting to Jeremy.

  His eyes are locked on his screens, and I notice he’s running each file through some type of rapid scan as it transfers, his focus intense. I keep my breath as steady as I can, hoping with everything I’ve got that the FBI’s masking program is as good as they said it was.

  5

  Trigg

  There’s an itch on my hamstring and a burn from a cramp in my shoulder that’s been annoying as hell for the past two minutes, but I push the irritants to the back of my mind while I focus on Emma.

  That look on her face when she scanned the windows — no doubt trying to locate me — it had my heart in my throat. She played it cool during the planning stage, and through the zoom of my scope, I can see in those eyes just how determined she is — but I also see the worry.

  Me, on the other hand, I’m in my element. Agent Roth arranged for this floor to be vacated a few days ago due to some bullshit cover — fumigation or something — and that gave me time to find the room with the best vantage point of every executive BHC office. When Roth and I arrived today, I turned the desk perpendicular to the large window and lined it with a couple blankets for padding. The less distractions the better — like a knee or elbow pressing into the hard wood surface below me.

  Now, I’m focused, lying down in the familiar prone position with my weapon at the ready in front of me, my body slipping back into muscle memory I developed in the Marines. It seems like I spent half my life in overwatch. With my rifle propped on a tripod, I’m able to easily keep locked onto Emma through my scope and see every detail of the room she’s in, and everyone in it. Exactly how I want it.

  Agent Roth shifts in the chair next to me, and I can feel his eyes on my weapon. “Jax got that from the NSA, huh? They, uh, don’t normally go around handing out tech like that.”

  My hand is already positioned near my neck, and I thumb the comm unit so Emma doesn’t have to hear the conversation. “I needed a scope that can see through that tinted glass, and his handlers got one. That’s all you need to know.”

  “I’m just saying, what the hell does your guy do that he can pull weight like that?”

  “I believe that’s above your paygrade, Roth.” I like the guy, but there’s no fucking way I’m explaining what Jax does for the NSA, or who Jude’s other high-level connections are, or why my actual kill count is different than the official total in my record, or how Gunner got to be so goddamn good at explosives, or the reason the DoD paid Daniel so much. The guys and I don’t share those details with other people, even if we served with them. Some things are just for us to know.

  “Just curious, that’s all,” he says, sounding a bit miffed.

  “It’s better if you don’t ask questions about Jax or Jude, or any of us. Let’s stay focused.” I never take my eyes away from my scope as I answer him, constantly scanning the BHC office to make sure everyone’s behaving and that my girl is safe.

  Sufficiently rebuked, Roth goes back to minding his laptop sullenly, ticking down the seconds, waiting for Daniel to transmit the full package of data from BHC’s rooftop. I switch to the comm channel I’m sharing with the guys and begin to transmit Morse code via a manufactured static on the line. Eyes on Emma. All well.

  I check the watch on the underside of my wrist. We all synchronized this morning, so I know that right now, if everything is on track, Gunner is lacing the entryway to the roof with explosives, Daniel has booted up his system and should be receiving the first of Emma’s transmissions, Jude is on his way to the eighteenth floor, and Jax will be ducking into an HVAC access closet just off
the stairwell on the seventeenth floor to set up his laptop as a secondary receiver of transmissions from BHC’s vault — just in case.

  Noise sounds in my ear as a signal comes through, and I focus on the static to make out the Morse code. It’s from Daniel. Data incoming.

  A small measure of weight is lifted from my chest. Even though the FBI ran this program for us to show they could disguise that data is being removed from BHC’s vault, I wasn’t so sure if it would perform under field conditions. Keeping focused on my girl, I do another quick scan of the room. Nobody’s catching on, not even that Brandt fucker sitting beside Emma, her activities duplicated on his terminal, his face glued to the screens, monitoring the download so intently.

  Another signal comes through the comms and ends a moment later, this time from Jax. I quickly translate the shorthand abbreviations he uses into full phrases. Backup operational. Data incoming.

  Good. The secondary download point is now running as well. I glance at my wristwatch once more. Anytime now…

  Breach point. Atta boy. The Chief is in the stairwell landing at the eighteenth floor, the last point before he’ll possibly encounter the increased security measures BHC has put into place. We suspect they haven’t thought to monitor the stairs for activity, but we aren’t taking any chances. The BHC headquarters take up the top three floors of the building, so he’ll wait just below. If all goes well, he’ll turn around and march right back down the stairs as soon as Emma has safely walked out the front door.

  Gunner checks in. Roof secured. That’s everyone.

  That man can set a web of explosive charges like a pro, and it’s a damn good thing. Even if everything else goes well and Emma’s safely out of the building, he and Daniel are going to be on that roof with their asses hanging out once Daniel powers up the wireless antenna and hits the transmit button to send the data offsite.

  Emma’s USB device is sending in tiny packets, hopefully small enough to keep it below the threshold of any signal detection BHC has in place. But when Daniel transmits to Agent Roth, the signal has to reach a hell of a lot further, and it’s going to be a lot stronger. There’s no way around it, though. We have to get the data to a secure location away from BHC’s headquarters as rapidly as possible in case shit hits the fan or something happens when Gunner and Daniel are trying to make their exit. We all agreed that we can’t count on being able to physically carry the data out of here on a device.