Framed

by Leslie Jones

  She grinned at him, unabashed, and he realized she’d been teasing him. It didn’t endear her to him. Neither did the calculation that sharpened her face.

  “Well, didn’t that put me in my place?”

  Lark stalked past them without a single glance. Mace followed her, intending to clear the air, but then realized Jocelyn brought up the rear of their impromptu train. The three of them wound their way silently through a cube farm, ending up midway down a row of identical cubicles.

  All similarity ended with the cube he saw there. Lark had tacked up yellow-and-red wallpaper in the space between her desk and the overhead storage cabinet. A pink Himalayan salt lamp rested near the telephone. A large leafy thing that reminded him of the man-eating plant from Little Shop of Horrors took up most of the left side of the L-shaped desk. A row of plush Avengers toys lined the wall near the lamp. Her computer mouse had zebra stripes.

  And a bowl with a goldfish sat next to her keyboard.

  He started to laugh. She whipped her head around to glare daggers at him, but he couldn’t stop.

  “What?” she asked belligerently.

  “Nothing,” he croaked through another chuckle. “It’s just so uniquely you.”

  Her narrowed eyes assessed him, then slid to Jocelyn, who’d dragged in two rolling chairs from other cubicles. “I’m me. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”

  He’d wanted to speak with her privately, but fuck it. Jocelyn didn’t seem to be going anywhere; too bad if she witnessed this. He settled his hands on her shoulders and hauled her up against him. She tensed, pulling away, eyes flashing. He ignored her temper, resting his forehead against hers until she looked at him. Really looked at him. Her lips parted just a tiny bit as confusion flickered through her eyes.

  His heart thumped as he lowered his gaze to her mouth. Her sweet, fiery, intriguingly perfect mouth. The tip of her tongue touched her top lip, causing an unexpected rush of heat to his groin. He swallowed his groan as he settled his mouth on hers, stroking them together. She made a tiny mewling noise that fired his blood. He’d intended it to be a gentle, reassuring kiss. As soon as her lips softened under his, though, he licked into her mouth, tangling their tongues together. She tasted of sunshine and flowers, and he laughed at himself for his sappy thoughts.

  “Ahem.”

  He let his eyes drift open, seeing Lark’s glazed expression. She gave a tiny giggle.

  “Do you understand now?” he whispered.

  She nodded, then eased out of his arms.

  “Ahem,” Jocelyn said, louder this time. “Clearly you’re the man Lark spent the weekend with. I thought you said his name was Thomas?”

  “Mace is a nickname.”

  Jocelyn slanted Lark a look of tolerance. “Can we get to work, now that we have that settled?”

  They both looked at her. A huge smile spread over Lark’s face. “Sure thingy, bossy lady.”

  “I’m your boss,” came a gruff voice from the cubicle’s entryway. “You report to me, not her.”

  Lark’s face closed down. Mace looked at the man who’d tacitly told Lark to keep her mouth closed during the briefing. He forced himself to remain open and relaxed. Lark wouldn’t appreciate him going he-man all over her boss.

  “Duh, Melvin. It’s just an expression.”

  Melvin looked him over. Mace returned a bland smile. Lark’s only boss dismissed him with a very slight wrinkling of his nose. “You’re one of the military guys, right? Lark has work to do. She doesn’t need any distractions. And I assure you she’s perfectly safe. We’re in an FBI building, for God’s sake. Security’s tight here.”

  Mace didn’t bother to mention he and his teammates had identified three potentially vulnerable points of entry. The contract guards carried weapons, but most likely had only a few hours of training. They would be simple to subdue. He was taking no chances with her safety given the threat. Still, it would take big brass balls to try to acquire Lark inside the FBI building.

  “Do you have a computer I can borrow? I can work my protection plan and be out of Lark’s hair. How about that desk?” He pointed to the empty cubby across from Lark’s.

  “That’s perfect,” Jocelyn said. “He’s on vacation till next week.”

  Melvin scowled, but finally nodded. “Have IT set him up with guest access.”

  “Sure thingy, bossy boss,” Lark said. “Oh, Jocelyn, I keep forgetting to ask you. That program you found on the server with the clocking anomaly. What did it do?”

  “Program?” Jocelyn wrinkled her brow. “What program?”

  Lark gave an exaggerated sigh. “The clocking anomaly on the infected server. Melvin said you were running it down.”

  “Got no idea what you’re talking about, chickadee. Sorry.”

  Lark looked at Melvin. A muscle ticked near his jaw, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He knew exactly to what Lark referred.

  “I took it off her plate and did it myself. It turned out to be nothing.”

  “Nothing? How can it be nothing? Someone deliberately installed it—”

  “I’m telling you it wasn’t important,” Melvin said. “You’ve got real work to do. That’s where you put your focus, not on some harmless clocking discrepancy. Understand?”

  “Anomalies give me hives.”

  “Find the mob’s money,” Melvin said. “Focus, Lark. Don’t go down rabbit holes.”

  “Fine. For fuck’s sake. I will.”

  Melvin walked away, which was good, because Mace didn’t like how he treated Lark. Not one bit.

  “Finally,” Jocelyn said. “We don’t need to wait for IT. I have root access. I’ll set you up.”

  Lark gave an impish grin. Mace suspected that she, too, had access she shouldn’t have. Jocelyn crossed to the other cubicle and sat down.

  “You, too?” he asked Lark.

  Her eyes widened. “Certainly not. That would be a clear violation of policy and procedure. And I’m pretty sure what you heard Jocelyn say is that she would contact IT to set up a temporary account for you.”

  He grinned. “Yup. That’s what I heard, too.”

  They shared a smile, then Lark slipped into her chair. “Okay. Let’s see if anyone nibbled at the cheese.”

  Lark logged back into the darknet. Had ChaosCowboy received her message? Had anyone followed her breadcrumbs?

  A reply to her encrypted message flashed on her screen. ChaosCowboy! She clicked it open, and found directions to a private chat room. Following the link, she entered the room, praying he would answer her.

  U there?

  Howdy, SPURious. It’s been a right long spell.

  A whoosh of relief escaped her. He would be able to help her, if only to settle her nerves. She hated feeling out of control.

  Five years. Last she’d heard, he’d been caught and charged under the federal computer crime statutes. How long did they keep u?

  For a fair piece. The vittles sucked a rat’s patoot.

  She typed in a frowny face. Sorry.

  Pshaw. Ain’t nuthin’ but a thing. U been raisin’ hell?

  I went legit. But I need ur help with something.

  Not a surprise. You were always too ethical.

  How to explain it? Remember the hack of the Bangladesh Bank last March? This is like that. Except that someone used my handle to frame me for it.

  Bet ur fit to be tied. Whatcha need?

  He hadn’t asked the amount of the theft. Lark found that a little strange. It would be her first question.

  You heard about it?

  Yup. Bunch of yellow-bellied scalawags out there. I was waitin’ fer yer call.

  She needed to find out who’d told him, but first things first.

  She typed in a smiling face. I have data from the injured party. I need to backtrace the theft and find the cash, and I only have a few days.

  Send me the data. I’ll see what I can do.

  Her innards relaxed. ChaosCowboy had taught her nearly everything she kne
w about advanced cracking techniques, taking her far beyond the level of script kiddie.

  Suddenly, a new screen popped up on her monitor, showing an aerial view of her parents’ mansion in Nantucket; the wide expanses of manicured lawn, the mansion itself, and Polpis Harbor.

  What the hell? This wasn’t email; someone had instant-messaged the image directly to her.

  She brought up a terminal window and ran an IP locator on the sender. It took her to a free proxy service. Before she could dig further, another photo appeared, this time a close-up of Kaley and Peter, lounging by the pool.

  Why would someone be spying on her family?

  U there, SPURious?

  A third photo joined the others. She stared at it, horror raising the hairs at the back of her neck and churning her stomach. This last photo showed their home security alarm panel . . . from the inside. To the right of the front door of her parents’ home. Someone had broken in, and wanted her to know it.

  The threat blew her mind. Stop your investigation, or we’ll hurt your family. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  Gotta vamoose, babe. U change ur mind?

  Rattled, Lark grabbed the thumb drive Elliott had given her and forced her shaking hand to insert it into the USB slot. She copied the data and pasted it into the private chat window.

  See what u can do with it. I’ll work it on my end.

  Meet here l8r?

  Give me a couple hours. Meet at 5?

  Sounds good. Thx.

  She disconnected from the dark net and sat back, chin dropping to her chest. The pictures immediately vanished. She closed her eyes. If she returned the mob’s money to Mr. Sokolov, her family might be harmed. That was unacceptable.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Mace’s calm voice steadied her even before she opened her eyes. He stood over her, concern creasing his face. “You look like someone died.”

  The unfortunate choice of words caused her anxiety to come roaring back. “Someone just threatened my family.”

  Mace’s brows snapped down and his body became rigid. He pinned Lark with a gaze so intense she almost flinched. “Tell me.”

  She did. He listened in earnest, gaze roving over her face as though to glean every nuance.

  “And you have no idea who might be behind the threat?”

  “Well, other than it’s very probably from the thieves who stole the mob money. I need to warn Kaley. They need to go into hiding or to Europe or something.”

  Mace gripped her shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll take care of that. Doug won’t have any problem either sending a protection detail to them, or taking them somewhere safe.”

  “My parents, too?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Relief flooded her. “Thank you. I . . . thank you.”

  “Family is everything,” he said.

  Grateful for his understanding, she jumped up and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her, and something inside her relaxed.

  “I was hoping I’d see you last night,” he murmured.

  “Your hotel room is too crowded,” she said. “And you’re conceited. What makes you think I want to sleep with you again?”

  The heat in his eyes nearly scalded her. A rush of sensation vibrated through her in response. “I’m dying for a repeat. If you felt just half as much as I did—”

  She forced herself to pull away. “I’m not looking for another hookup.”

  “I’m not, either,” he said. His mouth turned down and he ran a hand down his face. “Listen, we’ll get this all figured out. We’ll find the suitcase bomb. We’ll get whoever’s threatening you and your family. And then . . .”

  “And then nothing,” she said, but she couldn’t help wishing things could be different. “I mean, yes, I’d love to spend about thirty-six hours in bed with you. Okay? Jeez. I admit it, okay?”

  “But?” He didn’t look happy.

  “But people aren’t who they say they are. Either they lie about who they are, or they change into the exact thing they say they hate. Either way, it makes for a lousy relationship.”

  Mace looked down at her for several long moments. “Who hurt you, Lark?”

  “No one. Stay on target, supersoldier. We both have jobs to do.”

  He touched a gentle hand to her cheek. “True. But this conversation isn’t over.”

  “Mace, I can’t let the bad guys win. I just can’t,” she said in a rush, worry for her family flooding back. “But I’m no closer to figuring it out than I was this morning. I need to step it up.”

  “Or take it down a notch.” Mace immediately shook his head. “No, of course you can’t do that. You’d still be in danger. Sokolov would be after you, and I won’t be with you all the time.”

  “All righty, then. Time to find the real thieves.”

  Chapter 28

  It didn’t take Mace long to put together a twenty-four hour rotating guard schedule for Lark, and another one for her family. Developing a contingency plan for when the Rapid Reaction Force deployed took him longer. Finally, he went in search of Jace, finding him sitting with a couple of team members and some strangers. One he recognized from the briefing earlier looked up and nodded a greeting.

  “You one of Jace’s? I’m Noah Jennings, DHS.”

  Mace shook his hand. “Mace Beckett.”

  “These guys are with me. We were just deciding who will join your protection detail.”

  Jace annotated the list in front of him, looked up, and winked. Mace couldn’t suppress the relief rippling through the back of his skull. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Damned straight you shouldn’t. Noah is lending us three bodies. Will that do?”

  “For Lark, yes. But we have another problem.”

  Jace groaned. “We don’t have enough of those already?”

  “Someone broke into Lark’s parents’ house and sent her pictures meant to threaten her.” He relayed what had happened. “We need to get them into protective custody right away.”

  Noah Jennings rose. “Give me the details. I’ll get that going.”

  Mace handed him the protection plan he’d just written up. “Family names, addresses, contact data. In case I missed anything, Lark’s cell phone number is at the bottom.”

  “Nice work,” Noah said. “I’m on it.”

  When he returned to his borrowed cubicle, he was disappointed not to see Lark.

  “She went to the SCIF,” someone said. He turned his head to see a whip-thin blond man in nerdy glasses and a face pockmarked with acne scars. Some stray hairs on his chin were probably supposed to be a beard.

  “Where is it?”

  “Other end of the building. Go past the fire stairs, last door on the right. But you can’t get in without a—”

  “Thanks.”

  Mace found the SCIF without issue. He presented his military ID to the guard on duty, who checked his computer and handed him a red visitor’s badge. “You’ll have to be escorted while you’re inside, Sergeant.”

  The SCIF housed various types of top secret information, compartmented into different areas and computer systems. Just because he had access to some data didn’t mean he could access all of it. Need to know, and all that. He could have pushed the issue, but it wasn’t worth it.

  “I’ll escort him,” a silky voice said from behind him. He turned to see Jocelyn. “Lock your cell phone and wristwatch into one of those lockboxes and take the key with you.”

  He did so. Jocelyn pressed numbers on the cypher lock, pulled open the door, and gestured him inside.

  It looked like any other SCIF; he’d been in enough of them to know. Thick walls with maps and other information tacked to them, computer workstations, separate areas for different classifications of data. Radio frequency shielding and acoustical dampening. Intrusion detection system and special metal file cabinets.

  He saw Lark halfway down the right side of the large room. Jocelyn led the way to her workstation. She looked up and smiled.

  “Hey, there.” />
  “Hey, yourself. How’re things going? Hot on the money trail?”

  Jocelyn grabbed two nearby chairs and dragged them over, practically pushing him into one. He settled in next to Lark. Jocelyn sat on her other side.

  “I’m using the account data Elliott gave me to follow the pennies until it leads me to the dollars.”

  “What have you learned?” Jocelyn asked.

  “I traced the mob money from where it exited one of their bank accounts to a shell corporation in the Caymans.”

  “So it’s an illegal account? Can we seize it?” Mace asked.

  “No, and no. Quick lesson in financial transactions, kiddies. Shell companies aren’t illegal. They just don’t have any assets and they produce squat. They’re there purely to process transactions, which is what happened here. As far as the Cayman Islands, even though it’s a known tax haven, it’s still not illegal to have an account there.”

  She paused to make sure they understood. “Anywho, the shell corporation is owned by Sosa-Vega Participações Financeiras,” she said, stumbling over the pronunciation. “Which is Portuguese for Sosa-Vega Financial Holdings, headquartered in Sao Paulo, Brazil.”

  It seemed like Jocelyn intended to interrupt, but Mace held up a hand. “Where did it go from there?”

  “It’s not like there’s a road map with convenient red arrows.” She snatched a sheet of paper from the desk and started writing. “According to their website, Sosa-Vega brought in eighty-two point five billion-with-a-b in US dollars last year. A hundred and fifty thousand employees serving millions of customers, institutions, small businesses, and the government.”

  Jocelyn slumped back in her chair, shoulders and face relaxing. “Damn. It’s a dead end, then.”

  “Who’re you talking to?” Lark scoffed. “My master’s is in digital forensics.”

  Mace watched her. She clearly loved the challenge of the puzzle she was unraveling. “You found something?”

  “I’m counting on a little help from some of those hundred and fifty thousand employees.”