“How’s that?”
She turned toward me, gesturing with one delicate hand. “You’re nearly a foot taller than me and your shoulders are probably twice as wide as I am. You don’t think that’s intimidating?”
“I’ve never raised a hand to a woman.”
“You wouldn’t have to.” She studied me, her eyes moving quite deliberately over me. “You’re much less intimidating like that.”
“Gee, I’m glad my disability can make you feel safer.”
“Not safer. Just less intimidated.”
“Are you done with the questions now?” I asked, gesturing toward the computer. “I’d like to get back to work.”
“Sure.”
I turned back to the computer and began working again. She stayed by the window for a while, standing there staring down at the street like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever done. For hours she stood there.
Donovan came into the room as the sun began to disappear from the sky beyond the window.
“Ready?” he asked.
I sat back, rolling my chair back from the desk a few feet and rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hands, those gloves biting into my tender flesh. I was tired. More than tired. But I was used to being tired these days.
“I’d really like to stick around a while longer. I’m close to finding what we needed.”
Ricki pushed away from the window and came to stare at the computer screens. She pointed to one screen that displayed a long line of code.
“Where did you come up with that?”
I shrugged. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They hide their movements in lines of your code, which means that it’s probably someone who’s worked closely with your code either through the company—as you suspected—or in the past.”
She shook her head. “I recognize this,” she said, running her finger along the line of numbers. “I’m not sure how, but I know it.”
“As in, you know who wrote it?”
“Can you really tell who wrote specific code?” Donovan asked.
“Yes,” I said. “A lot of programmers like to leave a type of signature in their code. Small bits of code that are unique to them.” I focused on Ricki again. “Do you know who wrote this?”
She stared at it for another minute. Then she shrugged. “It’s familiar, but I can’t place it right now.”
I looked up at Donovan. “It could be a personal attack.”
He nodded. “I’ll call Ash and let him know,” he said as he stepped out of the room.
“We should probably have a list of the hackers you worked with in the past,” I said quietly. “We should check them out.”
“That’s going to be difficult because I only knew the majority of them by their nicknames.”
“A lot of hackers from that time period have been identified. I can figure out their real identities if you give me their nicknames.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Donovan stepped back into the room. “Ash wants to have a meeting in the morning,” he said, looking directly at Ricki. “Do you think that would be possible?”
“Of course. But he’ll have to come here. I have a meeting at nine with an important corporate sponsor.”
“He’d like to see you about eight.”
She nodded. “Works for me.”
Donovan’s eyes fell to me. “Ready?”
I shook my head. “I really need to stick with this. I’m close to finding the backdoor.”
Donovan glanced at his watch. I knew what he was thinking. Kate got off work at the bank at seven. He liked to meet her there and drive her home personally. The threat was gone, but he worried about her just the same. And he liked to spend as much time in her company as possible.
“Go,” Ricki said, almost as if she was reading my mind. “I can get him home.”
Donovan’s eyebrows rose. He looked at me. “Is that okay?”
I wasn’t sure I could get into a car with Ricki behind the wheel. She was so tiny…could she even see over the wheel? And was she a good driver? A reckless driver? It was hard enough riding with Donovan when I knew he could handle himself. The unknown scared the crap out of me.
But then my eyes fell to the computer keyboard. I really did want to finish this.
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
Donovan looked from her to me, then nodded.
“Change your mind, I’m just a phone call away.”
I might just take him up on that.
Chapter 7
Ricki
I ordered up dinner, a couple of to-go baskets from a local Chinese place. I was fascinated by David. The way his long, thin fingers moved over the keyboard so quickly, the way he stared intently at the computer screens, the way his mind worked. I was good. I knew I was good. Once upon a time, anyway. But David…he could have done amazing things back in the day when we were all hacking phones and computers and medical devices just to show we could.
It was late. I kicked off my shoes and watched him from my spot curled up in the office chair. Not only was his mind amazing, but his code was elegant. I saw him check into his own computer back at his office, saw the code that he used to run their security systems. It was beautiful. Graceful. The kind of code I used to write.
“How long have you been doing this?”
He shrugged. “I got interested in programming in high school. Took a few classes at the local university before I went to Stanford. It wasn’t until I went to Quantico that I really got into it.”
“Does Quantico know they trained one of the most amazing hackers ever created in the States?”
He glanced at me. “Flattery? Since when does a woman like you stoop to such a thing?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to be nice once in a while.”
“Somehow I suspect it hurts you very much.”
That hurt. He must think I am a real bitch to say something like that. Maybe I was. When you lose all your friends in one quick hit and find yourself in a spotlight you never really wanted, then find it nearly impossible to date without running into all these guys who think your money is more interesting than you are, it’s kind of hard to remember to be nice.
I haven’t been laid in nearly four years. He thought it was hard being celibate for two years? He should try walking in my shoes for a while. He’d be a bitch, too.
I got up and walked over to the window again, stretching my back as I did.
“Do you think you’ll be ready to call it a night any time soon? It’s nearly two.”
“You don’t have to hang around.”
“I do. That’s my entire life you’re digging around in there.”
He was quiet for a minute, only the sound of his fingers moving over the keyboard filling the room. Then he stopped and pushed himself back from the desk. “You’re right,” he said. “We should probably call it a night.”
“Do you want me to drive you home? Or…?” I hesitated because I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. “My apartment is up on the top floor. I have a guest room that’s clean and comfortable.”
I felt him watching me even though I couldn’t see him. I didn’t really want to look at him. There was something about him that made me feel like he could see right through me, scars and all. And that scared me.
“You sure you don’t mind the invasion of your privacy?”
I did look at him then, surprised by the teasing note in his voice. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who teased easily.
“You do understand that I’m very private. And for a reason.”
“I do.”
“I don’t like that you were so easily able to figure those things out about me.”
“If it makes you feel better, those records were not easy to find and I doubt anyone else would be able to find them.”
“I hope not.”
“You were the victim. You know that.”
A laughed, a quite unpleasant sound. “All I know is that that man left scars on my body that a
re nothing like the scars my mother’s inaction left in other places. I could have handled the beatings, the ridicule, the humiliation, if it hadn’t been for that.”
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him and, for a second, I really believed that he was. That he didn’t pity me, but he did feel hurt for the little girl I once was. That was so much more than I’d ever gotten from anyone else.
I cleared my throat. “We should go upstairs. I have to be up early.”
He wheeled around the desk and followed me through the hallways to the private elevator in the small corridor alongside my office. I’d never had anyone up to my apartment. Not even Jacy. I didn’t even spend as much time up there as I always intended. When we bought this building and I had the top floor converted, I’d intended to turn it into my sanctuary. The place I would go when the world just became too much. But it felt as unknown and scary as any other place where I’d spent time since leaving my tiny, efficiency apartment all those years ago.
I wondered if he would be impressed by the expensive décor when the elevator doors slid open. If I was hoping he would be, I was sorely disappointed. He didn’t say a word, just pushed himself onto the deep chocolate bamboo floor and turned so he could look up at me.
“The guest room is back there,” I said, gesturing to the hallway behind him.
“I’ll only need a few hours of rest,” he said, quite professional now despite the conversation we’d just had. “Will I be able to get back downstairs alone if you aren’t awake?”
“Yes. There’s no code to use the elevator from here. Just to get back up.”
“Good.”
He turned and wheeled himself down the hall. I followed, pushing open the appropriate door when we reached it. I hadn’t remembered how tall the bed was until I saw it. It was one of those with a pillow-top mattress. It stood a good four feet off the ground. When he rolled his wheelchair up beside it, it was obvious it would take quite a bit of maneuvering to get him on it.
“Do you—?”
“It’s fine,” he said quite curtly. “Thank you.”
“There are extra blankets in the closet, and the bathroom is down the hall. The last door on the end. There should be clean towels there, but…”
“I can take care of myself. Thank you for your hospitality.”
I nodded. “My room’s on the other end of the apartment if you need anything.”
He didn’t even acknowledge that last bit. He was too busy staring at the bed. I watched for a second, feeling like an idiot for even suggesting this whole thing. I should have taken him home and let him sleep in his own bed.
I retreated back to the living room, pausing at the small bar in the corner to pour myself a glass of sherry. It was a stupid habit. My mother had a glass of sherry before bedtime each night and I used to watch, thinking how much fun it would be to do the same when I was grown. And when I was an adult, I bought a bottle of sherry just to see what it tasted like. It wasn’t quite as enjoyable as I’d always imagined as a small child. However, it was a taste that grew on me and now it just didn’t seem right to go bed without it.
I could hear him moving around in his room, could hear the little squeak of his wheels on the wood floor. I wanted to go back, to make sure he got into that tall bed without issue. However, he was fiercely independent, something I could wholeheartedly understand. We were a lot alike in that accord.
My bedroom was quiet. Empty. The furnishings in this room were Spartan. Just a low bed and a small television hanging on the wall. No chairs. No dresser or side tables. I didn’t have them in my old apartment and didn’t see the need for them here. Just the necessities.
I undressed, rehanging my suit jacket and tossing the rest in the clothes hamper. In the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, I found myself staring at my body in a way I hadn’t in a long time. The scars had all faded, some so much so that I could barely see them even in this bright light. But I knew exactly where they were.
Did he have scars? Clearly he was burdened by something, guilt maybe. But I wondered if there were scars on his body from the accident, bright, gnarly marks that reminded him of what he’d done, of what’d happened that night. I wondered if he touched them late in the night like I once did, remembering each and every ordeal they represented.
Would he touch my scars and ask how they happened? Or would he simply pretend they didn’t exist?
I’d had lovers. Once. The ones who asked were the ones I never saw again. But now…a part of me wanted him to ask.
Him. I’d known him all of, what? Eight hours? And I was already having thoughts about him I’d never entertained about anyone else.
I walked back into the bedroom and was startled to find him sitting just inside the doorway.
“I was…”
He began to speak, but then his eyes moved over the length of my body, reminding me that I was naked except for the tiny lace panties that still clung to my hips. I should have crossed my arms over my chest, should have pretended to have some sense of humility. But I didn’t. I wanted him to look.
“Is there something you need?”
His eyes lingered on my breasts a moment longer, then he cleared his throat and turned his chair slightly so that his eyes fell on my bed instead.
“I was just going to ask if you mind if I slept on the couch instead.”
“The bed’s too high?”
“It’s a bit tall, yes.”
I walked over to my bed, aware of his eyes on me again. I tugged the blankets down, exposing the almost silky Egyptian cotton sheets underneath.
“You could sleep here,” I said without looking at him.
“I wouldn’t want to kick you out of your own bed.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that.”
A heavy silence fell between us. I was afraid I’d stepped over a line. I knew I’d stepped over a line. But there was a part of me that believed we both needed something and only the other could supply it. Was that a stupid thing to think? I wasn’t sure, but I hadn’t taken a chance like this in a long time and my heart was pounding, threatening to explode and end it all.
And then I heard him move. He rolled his chair to the other side of the bed, locking the wheels as he stopped close to the edge of the mattress, stripping his t-shirt over his head and bending to remove his sneakers before lifting himself onto the bed. He did it so gracefully that it was fluid, smooth, as if he’d done it a million times before.
Without a word, I snapped off the lights and curled up against my pillows, dragging the blankets up to my shoulders as I rolled onto my side, facing him. I couldn’t see him initially, but I could hear him breathing. There was movement, then he reached over and touched the side of my face with the back of his hand. He’d removed his gloves, but I could still smell the leather on his flesh. It was almost comforting, that smell.
I ran my fingers up the inside of his arm, hesitating when my fingertips brushed the inside of his wrist where his pulse was so steady, so strong and filled with life. He moved and my fingers slid over the palm of his hand. With just the slightest twist, our fingers were intertwined, the heat of his body warming something deep inside of me.
I slid closer to him across the mattress, stopping only when my breast brushed his ribs. I wanted to feel warm all over. I wanted to feel his vitality deep inside of me. I didn’t know how to seduce a man like him, but boldness had never failed me.
I pressed my lips to the back of his hand, then to that quickening pulse in his wrist. Then my lips found the curve of his shoulder, his muscles twitching just underneath. His chest had benefited quite magnificently from the constant use of his arms to push himself around, his pecs round and hard, his abs defined in a way that made my fingers ache to trace the deep ridges and valleys. I slid my lips over one of those perfect pecs, my tongue sneaking a taste of his hardened nipple.
David made a little noise, his fingers tightening on mine for an instant. Then he twisted his torso a little, freeing his hand so he could draw my
jaw up toward his face. His breath was warm with a faint, minty scent clinging to it. The first touch of his lips on mine was enough to make my breath catch almost painfully in my throat. And then again, the pressure a little more insistent, the touch lingering. I rolled into him, resting my leg over his as I drew his bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling it ever so lightly. Again he made that small noise…even as his hand came up to the back of my head, drawing me closer to him.
It may have been a few years since he’d had a woman in his bed, but he hadn’t forgotten how to kiss. He knew what he was doing, knew where to touch me to make my heart jump and my nerve endings suddenly come alive. I slid closer to him, pushing the blankets out of my way, pressing myself as tight against his side as I could. He still wore his jeans and the hard denim was rough against the most delicate parts of my body. But I pressed myself against him, raising my leg higher across his until my thigh brushed against his erection.
He hooked his hand under my knee and brought my leg up even higher, purposely rubbing my thigh against him, then sliding his hand along the underside of my thigh, his fingers sliding under the back of my panties. And all this as he continued to kiss me, as he continued to touch me in places I had never been touched.
Was it possible to want someone so completely that you forgot everything that was once so important to you? I no longer cared about the security breach, about my angry employees, about my past. All I cared about in this moment was where his fingers would go next. My world had shrunk to this impossibly small bit of awareness. I just wanted him to touch me.
And he did. His fingers slipped along my ass, sliding slowly forward, seeking out more. I moved my hips, encouraging him. The angle was all wrong, but he fixed that by moving his hand around my hipbone and sliding his fingers down the front of my panties until he brought a hiss from deep in my throat, until his fingertip brushed almost innocently over my swollen clit.
His mouth slid to my chin, moving along my jaw until my earlobe was caught between his teeth. And then my throat, his lips doing things that sent shivers up and down my spine. So much pleasure. I had never known there could be so much pleasure coming from so many places all at once. I ran my hand over his chest, playing with the thin patch of hair between his pecs, my hand smoothing its way downward until my fingertips brushed the top edge of his jeans. He groaned as I slid them under his waistband, just brushing the top edge of the base of his shaft.
DAVID: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) Page 4