Edge of Honor: An EDGE Security Novel

by Loye, Trish

  She pointed to a younger crowd. “That group in the jeans and comic-hero T-shirts? Those are your true geeks. IT and innovative tech. Most are obsessive gamers. They hate the nerd herd.”

  She shifted slightly and nodded at another group. “See the man in khakis standing by the veggie platter?” The man stood talking with a woman in an ankle-length multi-colored skirt with a long sweater over top. “Those are your Granolas. Most of them are vegans; you’ll find them near the veggie buffet and away from the bar. Their tech is all about Save the Planet.”

  “What about the suits in the corner?” Jack asked.

  “Consultants and businessmen. They’re usually into money-making tech like smaller microchips. Not a lot of imagination, and very smug about their brains and their pay. They usually have expensive suits to hide their pot bellies.”

  She subtly pointed to another group of suits. “Compared to those guys. Wanna take a guess?”

  “Short haircuts, but not military short. Cheaper suits. Straighter postures, but still have the pot bellies.” He smiled down at her. “Defense contractors?”

  Her heart skipped a beat at that smile. She glanced away before anything could show on her face. “Bingo. But don’t get them mixed up with the actual military and government scientists. Those are the real Save-the-Planet guys, but Men-in-Black style. They’re definitely harder to spot—they blend well. They don’t talk about themselves much.”

  “And where do you fit in?” He studied her.

  She faced the room rather than let him see how much his interest unnerved her. “I’m fairly simple. I’m in the Square Peg group. We’re loners who don’t really fit anywhere.”

  “Even amongst this crowd? Why are these brainiacs not worshipping you as their Queen?”

  She shrugged and took another sip of her wine. “I’m an acquired taste, even among the geek elite.”

  His gaze caught hers. “I think you’d be more of an instant addiction.”

  Her stomach flipped at his words, at the low burr of his voice. Her heart sped up as she stared into his hazel eyes. She leaned toward him as if caught in the sun’s magnetic pull. Her face tilted up and heat burned her core. His eyes went to her her lips, which she parted on a quick breath.

  He turned abruptly, once again surveying the room, expressionless. “You’d better go mingle, Sherlock. I’m on duty.”

  Like a fish cut loose, she stepped back with a small gasp. What had just happened? Had she been about to kiss him? She glanced around the room. No one noticed them. She looked back at Jack, opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it.

  Great, she really was impersonating a fish. It was time to leave.

  “Nice meeting you, Jack.”

  And now she had to stay away from him. She wasn’t here to flirt with a bodyguard. This man was trouble.

  5

  That woman was trouble. Jack watched Charlie-what kind of name was that anyway?-walk away. He liked that she didn’t wear heels or a lot of makeup. Her lithe, petite figure pulled at him to follow. He snapped his gaze away. He was on duty. He was honor-bound to follow through on that duty, whether he thought it was laughable or not. No one else was going to get killed on his watch.

  He purposely kept his gaze roving, not excluding Charlie from his line of sight, but not focusing solely on her either— no matter how tempting that was. But he always knew where she was in the room and who she was speaking with.

  Her expression had almost been hurt when he’d dismissed her. But he’d had to do it. He was here on a mission; he couldn’t afford to be distracted. It was better for her to realize he wasn’t interested…unless she just wanted a night of sex. That he could do, and in spades. But she looked to be the type who’d want to get to know him, have a relationship.

  He caught himself before he shook his head. A relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. No one in their right mind would take a chance on him. He knew as soon as Dr. Singh found out about his past she wouldn’t stand next to him making cute jokes anymore. She’d keep her distance like everyone else.

  No one wanted to be associated with an incompetent coward. At least that’s what his CO had called him when he hadn’t owned up to his mistake.

  It was okay that he was alone. He couldn’t afford any attachments. Not until he found the man who’d framed him, and brought him to justice.

  Dr. Levington beckoned him. He sighed through his nose, but didn’t let his irritation show as he walked over to the doctor. What had Sherlock called the wanker? Part of the nerd herd.

  “Tell these men your background,” Dr. Levington said. “They don’t believe that you were…what was it? Sas?” He pronounced it as one word, whipping Jack’s irritation higher.

  “SAS,” he said.

  “Right. Is that like SOS?” Dr. Levington said, and a few of the other men laughed at the lame joke.

  Jack kept a tight rein on his anger and didn’t say a word.

  “Come on,” Dr. Levington said. “Lighten up.”

  “Did you need anything?”

  “Well, you still didn’t answer the question,” he said.

  And Jack wasn’t going to. He would not allow himself to be put on display. He turned away.

  “Hey. Don’t walk away from me. I’m paying you.”

  “It means Special Air Service.”

  Jack turned back. The man who spoke had brown hair that flopped over his forehead and wore the kind of khakis that Sherlock had told Jack to buy. His sport coat didn’t have elbow patches, but he was still a card-carrying member of the nerd herd. “They’re an elite special forces unit in the British Army.”

  Jack gave the man a slight nod for the truth of his words. The nerd flushed slightly and nodded back.

  Jack turned away when another person asked in a lowered voice, almost low enough to miss, but not quite, “What’s an SAS soldier doing as a bodyguard?”

  It was the man Charlie had come in with. Was he another of her lab assistants? Jack surveyed him. No. He’d seen how Charlie had looked at him, as if he were special. But the man screamed high maintenance to Jack. With his tailored suit, moussed hair, and manicured nails. He couldn’t be Charlie’s type.

  Now that was wishful thinking. Jack steered away from any thought of Charlie’s type and back to Mr. High Maintenance. Jack couldn’t tell much from the man’s voice since he’d spoken so low. Otherwise, he was tall and lean with muscle, not skinny. He might be in shape, but he didn’t stand balanced on his feet. Not ready for a fight.

  Charlie wasn’t the only one good at observing.

  Mr. High Maintenance cocked an eyebrow at Jack as if daring him to respond.

  Jack clenched his teeth, wanting nothing more than to take a swing at this bastard with his perfect hair, and break his perfectly straight nose. Jack’s own nose had a bump from where it’d been broken by an insurgent in Iraq.

  “The company I hired only takes the best,” Dr. Levington said, unexpectedly coming to his defense. “But I think I might request someone else. Someone easier to work with.”

  Or maybe not.

  Jack was done with them all. He moved back to his position by the wall and continued to survey the room, reminding himself that this job had another purpose. One he could get to as soon as his replacement came.

  For the rest of the function he avoided looking at Charlie because every time he caught sight of her, his gaze lingered and his mind wandered.

  He used the discipline of his years in the SAS to keep his focus. Charlie was a distraction he didn’t need right now.

  * * *

  Charlie sat at the little desk in her hotel room typing notes about the meet-and-greet into her encrypted laptop. The function had lasted longer than she’d wanted it to, but she’d managed to do some useful work. She cross-referenced the list of names of scientists who were here to showcase technology that fit Spider’s profile.

  She’d spoken to four of them this afternoon, and was able to cross two off her list. The tech for both men wasn’t ev
en in the beta testing stage yet. She typed in her impressions of the other two and their tech.

  A knock sounded just before a keycard slid and the lock clicked. Cat opened the door.

  “Hey, Q. I brought you some treats.” She threw two plastic packets at her.

  “Percy Pigs and Jelly Babies?” Charlie said, reading aloud. “Gummy pigs and babies? Awesome.” She ripped open the pigs and stuffed one in her mouth with a sigh of contentment. “Have I told you you’re my best friend?”

  “Every time I bring you candy,” Cat said. She plopped down on her bed. “Okay, give me the download on the geek convention.”

  Charlie spun in her chair to face Cat and grimaced. “These people are very passionate about their work. Some of them didn’t ever want to stop talking about it.”

  Cat chuckled. “Glad it’s you talking to them and not me. Who’d you meet and what’re your impressions?”

  She told Cat everything, except her interaction with Jack. That wasn’t necessary. “I did meet one man who didn’t quite fit any of my profiles. His name is Logan Frost. I couldn’t find him on our list of potential targets, but I included him because I spoke with him.”

  “Was he the guy you flirted with on the elevator?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What? I wasn’t flirting. I wouldn’t. I’m on an op. Wait. How did you… You hacked the elevator cameras?”

  Cat laughed. “Don’t worry. Dante only got the visual, but he and I both tried our best to read lips.”

  Her face heated. “He is a good-looking man. I can appreciate that. But that’s all it was. I—”

  “Relax, Q,” Cat said, still smiling. “I’m teasing. I don’t care what you do. In fact, it’d be great if you finally met someone. Besides, I know you’ll be on target if we need you.”

  Charlie’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled back. “Thanks.” But she decided something: No more flirting for her on this trip. No matter how good looking the man was. For some reason, an image of Jack’s square jawed face entered her mind.

  “Will I need to start wearing a wire?”

  Cat ran a hand through her hair. “Honestly, at the moment we’re just doing general surveillance. We’re not even sure Spider will show up here. I think we can get away with following you on the hotel’s security cameras for now. We’ll up the monitoring if we perceive a threat.”

  “What if I leave the hotel?” she asked. “I can’t go to sleep yet and I need to walk.”

  “Take the EDGE cell. We can track you through that. It’s encrypted and has a panic button if you need it. Do you have a weapon?”

  As EDGE operators, they had special permission to carry firearms. But Charlie never felt completely comfortable carrying a gun and had put hers in the hotel safe. She had other options. “I’m covered.”

  “You want company?”

  “No, I’m good. I just need to stretch my legs.”

  Cat nodded. “Okay. Let me know when you get back.”

  “Will do.”

  After Cat left, Charlie looked at her laptop. It was protocol to lock up laptops when on a mission like this. The hotel had large safes bolted inside the closet. She stuck the laptop inside and threw in her passport, too.

  She changed into jeans and boots, and sighed with relief before snagging her purse and the EDGE phone. It was time to see a bit of London.

  * * *

  Jack shook hands with his replacement. Arthur was a greying ex-copper with edges rougher than Jack’s. “How’s the assignment?”

  “A right arsehole,” Jack said. “He’s tried to get me to carry his bloody bags and shown me off to his cronies.”

  “Bloody hell. Well, at least I’ve got the night shift.”

  They both eyed Dr. Levington, who sat with two other colleagues in the dining room. At the moment, he argued with the waiter. Something about the wine being off.

  “Thankfully, he doesn’t look like a club hopper.”

  Jack snorted. “And he’s definitely going to bed alone.” He nodded at Arthur. “Hope you have a boring night.”

  “Cheers.” Arthur settled his back against the wall and watched the room.

  Jack rolled his shoulders to release the tension and strode toward the hotel exit. He decided to go for a walk and organize his thoughts. It had been a long day of standing watch. He had to be back on day shift tomorrow, so he’d save his real workout for early morning and use the walk to stretch his legs.

  Charlie hadn’t been wrong that he rode a motorcycle normally. He contemplated a drive, but didn’t feel like fighting the evening traffic to get to an open road.

  Jack strode down Northumberland Avenue, a relatively quiet street, toward Trafalgar Square. The square was filled with people and he passed through it as quickly as possible and moved onto Charing Cross Road.

  He walked for only about ten minutes when he felt an itch at the back of his neck. Without turning his head too much, he glanced at the reflection in a shop window he passed, checking out the people behind him. Nothing, or rather, no one unusual. Just tourists and the after-work crowd.

  The feeling didn’t go away.

  He kept the same pace, keeping track of who was behind him by using window reflections. He didn’t take any side streets that would lead him to quieter roads, but instead kept walking straight toward Leicester Square, an area rife with theatres and of course, pubs. He entered the first one, The Three Horseshoes, and went to the end of the bar, where it curved into the wall. Here, he could watch the door. The hall to the loo and back exit was steps away from his stool.

  The pub was about half full, most of the booths taken by shoppers with their parcels around them. French, English, and American accents abounded.

  He ordered a pint of Fuller’s London Pride and waited.

  It didn’t take long.

  Ethan, in jeans and a sweater, stepped through the doorway and headed straight for Jack, sliding onto the stool beside him.

  “You shouldn’t be in the open like this,” Ethan said. “We can’t find the signaler, and now there are rumors that you might have taken care of him.”

  “Daft wallapers. Why would I do that?”

  “So there’s no more links between you and that night. People are speculating that the signaler hadn’t given all the information that night and that’s why he ran. Because he was scared of you.”

  The accusations cut like a blade across his chest. But he didn’t flinch. “What do you believe?”

  “You have honor. I think you would have told me if something had happened to the man.”

  And now the blade slid into his black heart. He’d lied to Ethan, his dead friend’s brother—the only person on his side. And now if he told the truth, Ethan would abandon him just like the army had.

  Jack nodded, further distancing himself from the man Ethan thought he was. “So why are you here?”

  “To tell you they know you’re back in the UK. I might have directed them toward your flat in Glasgow. They’re also keeping a twenty-four-hour watch on your sister Quinn.”

  “I haven’t spoken to her or Mum since I started the hunt.”

  “I know. Just keep it that way and they’ll be fine.”

  “Anything else?” Jack asked.

  Ethan laid a small card on the table. All it had was a mobile number on it. “Here’s my number. If the signaler reaches out to you, let me know immediately. We need to find the man.”

  “Of course,” Jack said, his stomach turning with his lies.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Ethan said. “Stay safe.” He stood and left.

  Jack watched him go. “I’m sorry, Aiden,” he whispered, “for being such an arse to your brother, but I don’t have a choice.”

  The darkness of his mood tempted him to down the rest of his pint to help bury his regret, worry, and fear in a fog of alcohol. Instead, he pushed it aside.

  Enough self-pity. He had work to do, and duty tomorrow. Even if the duty of guarding Dr. Levington was laughable.

  The pub door ope
ned and he automatically checked out the person who entered. He stilled.

  Charlie stood silhouetted in the doorway, scanning the interior. He inwardly cursed his luck and told himself to look away so she wouldn’t catch sight of him, but he didn’t. Something made him stay focused on her, as if willing her to see him.

  Her gaze found his and stayed. A tentative smile crossed her face. He didn’t return it. He couldn’t. She wasn’t for him. But he didn’t take his eyes off her as she crossed the pub toward him.

  * * *

  Charlie had left the hotel, turned away from the river, and started walking. She loved hearing the accents around her, seeing the Victorian architecture of the buildings, and feeling the pulse of London. She couldn’t help but smile as she strode along.

  She was embarrassed that it took her so long to notice Jack ahead of her, but Trafalgar Square entranced her. She briefly considered catching up to him, but decided against it. He was trouble, and she’d already promised herself to stay away from him.

  But then he walked up Charing Cross Road, a road that was on her list to see because it was famous for its bookstores. So she didn’t hesitate to follow. But only because she wanted to explore that area. It had nothing to do with Jack.

  She’d let the distance between them stretch out to more than a block when she noticed the man following Jack. Dark hair and about six feet tall, wearing jeans and gray sweater. He could have been a tourist or someone who worked in a casual office. She’d barely noticed him. But then she realized Jack was subtly glancing at window reflections.

  He knew he was being followed.

  She no longer noticed the tourists or shops she passed. She followed the two men. What was going on?

  Was Jack in some kind of trouble? He did have a bad-boy-biker vibe to him, but the man following him looked more like an accountant than a rival biker.

  She needed information, so she pulled out her phone and punched the speed dial for Dante.

  “Gears,” he answered.

  “It’s Q,” she said. “I’m following Dr. Levington’s bodyguard down Charing Cross Road.”