That should also keep out the people he claimed might be after her. Oh, yes. He was making her feel paranoid—and not just about the slightly devious computer work she had done.
The elevator stopped and the door opened.
Brody edged by her to get out first. He looked up and down the hall, not even attempting to look casual about it.
Once again, she was glad no one was around. She didn’t want to have to explain anything else. As it was, she’d had to lie to the building guard, say that “Jim” was an old friend just visiting town and she wanted to show him where she worked. Actually, that wasn’t exactly a lie. Just the reasons he was here weren’t completely true.
“Which way’s your office?” he asked, just as Miles Hodgens, another IT worker like her, came through a nearby door.
“Same place he just exited,” she said. “Good morning, Miles.”
The tall, geeky guy, whose sleeves were rolled unevenly halfway up his arms, looked first at Brody, then at her. “Hi, Sherra.” Miles and she sometimes ate lunch together—when she was eating—but she had discouraged any fraternizing outside the office, saying how awkward it would be. What would really be awkward would be telling this kind guy who definitely wasn’t her type that she had no interest in him.
The polite thing to do would be to introduce the two men who stared as if waging a testosterone battle with their eyes. “Miles, this is my old friend…Jim. Jim, Miles and I both work with computers here.”
They shook hands.
“Want anything from the cafeteria, Sherra?” Miles asked.
“No, thanks.”
Phoebe, the secretary assigned to four people including Miles and Sherra, kept a pot of coffee going all day. That’s what helped to keep Sherra going, not the delicious but calorific sweet rolls Miles was partial to.
With a last glance over his shoulder, Miles headed to the stairs beside the elevator.
“Has he worked here long?” Brody asked.
“You’re accusing Miles of something?” Pursing her lips, Sherra shook her head. “He’s just a nice guy. And, yes, he’s worked here even longer than me.”
A few other coworkers passed by. Sherra said good-morning but was glad they didn’t stop.
She showed Brody through the door from which Miles had exited, into the room where Phoebe’s desk sat by the window. The pot containing the coffee Sherra was starting to crave sat on top of a nearby cabinet.
Phoebe wasn’t there, though. Maybe she was in the cafeteria, too, or the restroom. That was good. Sherra didn’t want to introduce Brody to everyone if she could avoid it.
Once again, Brody seemed to scan their surroundings. “Does that door lock?” He nodded toward the opening they’d just come through.
“I doubt it,” she said. “Look, Brody—”
“Jim,” he corrected sharply. “Show me your office, and I’ll leave.”
That should have filled her with relief. Instead, sorrow pulsed through her. Would this in fact be the last time she’d see him? Yes, if she had her way—but it still would hurt.
“Hi, Sherra,” chirped a familiar voice. Phoebe, a middle-age single mother who also loved to play mom to the IT geeks she worked for, popped into the room. Her chubby figure was poured into one of the flower-print dresses she loved, and her eternal grin lit her face.
“Good morning.” As always, Sherra smiled back, and it reflected in her tone. She liked Phoebe. “Phoebe, I’d like you to meet my old friend Jim.”
Phoebe’s already wide grin seemed to expand. “Glad to meet you, Jim.” She tossed a sly look Sherra’s way. Great. Now she’d have to explain the nonrelationship in a way Phoebe would buy—which wouldn’t be easy, especially considering what she’d have to ignore from last night.
“I just want to show Jim where I work.” After repeating what she’d told the guard downstairs, Sherra escaped through the door on the right that led into her office. She motioned for Brody to follow. He fortunately complied before Phoebe could start interrogating him.
Sherra tried to see her office through Brody’s eyes. It was hardly more than a cubicle, and her desk was dominated by her computer. She had her own printer and a small file cabinet to hold paperwork she generated, although most reports were saved nightly on the company’s network. She also kept them on memory sticks in case the system crashed—but it never had.
That wasn’t what Brody focused on, though. He looked out her window, which overlooked the parking lot. A matching building was fairly close. He checked the windows. “I keep them locked when I’m not here,” she informed him. Not that she thought anyone could—or would—climb up to get inside. It was just company policy.
“Fine.” He turned, and his amazing amber eyes captured hers. “I’ll leave now. Your environment here appears relatively secure, and it looks like there’s enough activity around. Just be cautious. Don’t go to meet anyone you don’t know, and stay near other people. And don’t talk about having a visitor last night. I’ll be back later to pick you up.”
“Brody, I don’t—”
He moved away from the window so fast that she didn’t anticipate it. Good thing she had closed the door behind them, for suddenly she was in his arms. He lowered his mouth to hers, and his kiss was nearly as hot as any they had shared last night.
“I’ll be back later,” he repeated.
“You don’t need to,” she said. “I can get a ride home. Honestly, Brody—”
“You can’t take any chances. Whether or not you believe it, you’re in danger. So for now, stay aware and stay safe. And most important, do not do anything on the internet, even from here, except whatever research you have to do for your company. It would be better if you didn’t get on at all, but at least this corporate system with its company firewall is safer than somewhere on your own. But don’t access any sites besides those you’re required to get into for your job—and definitely not the government ones you were looking into—or you won’t be able to come back here at all, ever, for any reason. Got it?”
“But—”
“Got it?” he repeated.
“All right, but you have to know—”
It didn’t matter what she’d been going to say. He turned, and then he was gone.
* * *
Back in his car, Brody looked up toward the third floor of the insecurely configured building, wishing he could see and hear through walls, learn exactly what Sherra was up to at this moment. As if he didn’t know.
It hadn’t just been the protest she’d been about to voice that irritated him. He had seen in her eyes how entrenched in stubbornness she was. He’d be away for a while, and she would undoubtedly use that as an opportunity to convince herself that she’d be able to avoid him later.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Would she listen to him, just do her work and not look into who or what she thought he was any longer?
Not hardly. If he hadn’t needed to go to his cover job, she wouldn’t be here. He had intended to take Sherra to a safe house last night before showing up this morning. That hadn’t happened. Now, he would have to set things up today so he could do what he had to.
And then he would have to make sure that she didn’t return here, or perform work for this company, until everything was resolved, no matter what he might have allowed her to believe.
He wouldn’t have left her if he’d thought anything would happen today. Tonight was another story. Those SOBs he was after, who most likely knew about Sherra and her research by now, would know she’d be surrounded by people today.
Nighttime was different.
But they wouldn’t know—yet—that someone was keeping an eye on her.
He couldn’t give up his undercover work, not completely. But he had to put it on temporary hold.
When he picked Sherra up tonig
ht, he would have to convince her that, till everything was resolved, he was part of her life. Period.
He hadn’t liked revealing his undercover identity either to her or to the people she worked with. But she was smart enough to accept it—although he expected more questions later.
The sex they’d shared last night had been amazing—but it was only a one-time reminder of what they’d had. She would no doubt be too angry with his obvious lies, and the way he would stick close to keep an eye on her, to want more.
But deception was the only way he could stay alive and keep her—and others—safe.
Chapter 4
“How many resumes have we gotten in for the new distribution manager position, Jim?” asked Brody’s supervisor at All For Defense, Crandall Forbes. Smelling like cigarette smoke, he leaned over Brody’s small parody of a desk in his tiny office, staring at the pages Brody had printed from the computer that was his best friend here. Not that Brody worked on it all the time.
If anyone paid attention, they might think Brody—no, Jim—had a kidney problem since he left his desk so often. Then again, he also drank a lot of coffee. But although he headed for the coffeepot in the office kitchen and the men’s room a lot using the slow, slouching gait that he assumed here, his goal was to keep an eye on the pulse of AFD—who was there and what they were doing. And who they communicated with online, on their phones or otherwise.
“About ten,” he told Crandall. “Couple of them look good. I’ve put them on top.” He held the pages up to the human resources director to whom he was ostensibly an assistant.
Hell, it was ostensible to Brody, but it was real to Crandall and others at AFD. He had a perfect background and resume to have landed this job a couple of months ago…thanks to fudging of records by Brody and those to whom he really reported—high-up special ops army officers and Department of Defense civilians. This position was perfect for what he needed to do here: find out everything on everyone and figure out who was involved with the scams, and worse, being run on behalf of AFD.
It helped that his background, before entering the military, consisted of a bachelor’s degree in business. Under his own name, of course, not Jim Martin’s. But the knowledge he had gained in school was useful now.
In school…where he had loved, and been dumped by, Sherra. But he wasn’t about to focus on that now—except to do what he had to so he could get out of here for a day or two without arousing any suspicion. That way, he could keep an eye on her.
He coughed, not hard to do as he inhaled the stale smell of his supervisor. Then he grabbed a tissue from a box he’d placed on his little desk for just this purpose and feigned a good, hearty sneeze into it, even moving the glasses he wore as part of his disguise.
Crandall, an expression of disgust on his narrow, homely face, stepped back. “You getting a cold or the flu?”
Crandall wasn’t much older than Brody, no matter how weathered and worried he looked, or how thin he appeared in his dressy white shirt and loose black trousers. Brody had checked him out, as he checked out everyone else he purportedly worked with here at AFD.
“Dunno,” Brody said in as nasal a voice as he could create, then coughed again. He had only been in his undercover role for a short time and wasn’t about to ask for a day off. He’d look like a shirker, not good for his longevity here. But if he got kicked out for a couple of days to avoid infecting others while recuperating from a nonexistent cold, no one would think anything of it.
“Sounds like.” Crandall’s tone was disgusted as he stepped farther away in the small office. “Just hand those resumes over to me, then go home. Stay there till you’re not contagious, okay?”
“I’m sure I’m not—” Brody broke off what he was saying with another pretend sneeze.
“Yeah, sure you’re not. Just get out of here.”
“Well, okay.” Brody held out the resume copies. Crandall took them gingerly at the edge, between his thumb and narrow forefinger. Brody figured he’d douse his hands with sanitizer as soon as he could. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“No, take a couple of sick days. I’ll clear it.” Crandall’s broad nose was in the air as he pivoted and left. He appeared to be holding his breath so as not to inhale whatever germs Brody was exhaling.
Brody smiled as he shut down his computer. Mission accomplished—at least this small portion of it. He rose to exit, telling a few of the friendliest coworkers what had just happened, coughing a little around them, too, and assuring them he’d be back in a couple of days.
Then he headed out of AFD, through the long hallways and down the stairs toward the parking lot.
He would definitely be gone only temporarily while he figured out what to do with Sherra. There was too much he needed to do there to stay away long.
All For Defense was a government defense contractor that provided products and services to the military: everything from food and ammo to be shipped from the States to Afghanistan, to contracting with other outside organizations, both U.S. and Afghani, to build schools for local civilians, and to construct buildings on overseas military bases. Or to raze structures from installations being shut down because of U.S. withdrawals.
Brody was investigating it here on U.S. soil now for the thefts and overcharges it conducted here and overseas. The suspicion was that its executives had bribed a lot of people along the way—and even killed to protect their interests.
Brody McAndrews had just started checking out AFD’s operations in Afghanistan when the IED went off that killed him. Or at least appeared to kill him, but got his bud Brody Andrews instead.
Once the surviving Brody got substantial proof…well, they’d pay. Big time. And not just in money.
But first things first. He had to protect himself and others who were looking into this. That meant not having a certain beautiful computer expert make everything crash down on them because of her nosy hacking into the highly confidential Defense Information Systems Agency computer records and learning that someone supposedly killed overseas by a contractor under investigation was very much alive. Someone who was now undercover on a very special mission dedicated to eliciting and exposing the truth about who connected to the U.S. military knew of AFD’s treachery and allowed them to get away with it—possibly accepting bribes to do so. There’d been some online communication about it, significantly modified once they became aware of the hacker, but the info could still be uncovered if someone dug hard enough—and so could data about who’d already searched for it.
Instead of having Sherra arrested, Brody would be better off ensuring that she kept quiet while this mission continued, or his undercover identity would be put even more at risk.
But her digging so far, even if caught only by the good guys—which was doubtful—had potential consequences far beyond Brody’s own health. Especially for the lovely Sherra. At least Brody had gotten things in line here well enough that he would be able to drag her off to the safe house, kicking and screaming if that was how she wanted to play it.
But she would go with him.
He couldn’t help thinking about last night. Having her in his arms again.
Making love with her.
His body started to react. He wished he could take a cold shower right here. Instead, he did the next best thing.
He focused on the danger she had put them all in. Put herself in.
No matter. Despite his anger with what she’d done, he would keep her safe while he got things turned around so he could get back to work—and get his real job finished.
* * *
Still seated at her small desk at work, Sherra checked the time on the bottom right corner of her computer screen. It was three o’clock. Time to leave.
She usually worked late, like yesterday. Loved her job.
But if she stayed until the time she usually left, Brody wou
ld be there to shepherd her out—and possibly insist that she go with him. To kidnap her, in essence. Even if he claimed it was for her own safety, and not just to keep her from further research he didn’t like.
But he was the only one who had compromised her safety. Had broken into her apartment and scared her.
And then seduced her… Well, okay, it had been mutual. They had made delicious love last night. Even better than before. Her body grew warm at the memory. More than warm. Excited. Anticipatory.
Damn. She stood and grabbed her purse from her desk. All that was irrelevant. She quickly shut down her computer after withdrawing the memory stick she always took with her. All of the IT techies here at CMHealthfoods could retrieve anything official that disappeared, but it was the unofficial stuff, her own stuff, that concerned her.
Pasting a smile on her face, she turned the corner and entered Miles’s office, which was as compact as hers.
He looked up, an eager smile on his thin, intense face. “You ready to leave now?”
“Yes, please.” She’d told him how her friend Jim had driven her there today and intended to pick her up, but made up a story about car trouble and her need to get home to talk to her condo manager about some remodeling of her building that the board had agreed to. All garbage, but Miles was a nice guy. He didn’t mind driving her home.
She knew he’d be delighted if she invited him in—which she’d never do. She liked the guy as a friend and coworker but had no intention of getting involved with him. Or anyone.
Especially not Brody. Even after last night.
She would do all she had to in order to eject him from her life once more. She had dealt with that hurt once. She could handle it again now. At least theoretically it should be a lot less painful than before—comparing a one-night stand to a several-year love affair between two young, starry-eyed kids… .
“You okay, Sherra?” Miles looked concerned.
She wondered what he might have read, or thought he’d read, in her expression. Sorrow? Pain?
Undercover Soldier Page 4