Follow Me (Corrupted Hearts)

by Tiffany Snow

  Nerves twitched up and down my spine, but I obediently moved closer until we stood side-by-side, nearly touching inside the little space.

  “Right now, there’s a live round ready to go,” he explained. “If you’re done firing, switch on the safety. Move the slide to eject the bullet.” He did that, the bit of brass falling onto the counter. “Safety off. Point downrange. Pull the trigger.” A click of an empty chamber. “Safety on. Set it down, muzzle always pointed downrange.”

  I glanced at the target he’d shot at and swallowed. A small hole was nearly dead center in the head. Apparently, this wasn’t his first rodeo.

  “Your turn.”

  My hands were sweaty and I wiped them on my jeans. “Um, okay. Step one, rack the slide.” I tried . . . and didn’t move it a millimeter. “It’s too big,” I said. “My hand won’t fit around it.” I tried again, but was stopped by a muffled snort. I glanced up at Jackson, who appeared to be holding back a laugh. “What are you laughing at? It’s hard.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I’m not laughing at that.”

  “Then what?” I replayed my words in my head, turning them over for a double meaning . . . and realized. “Oh.” My neck and face burned and I went back to trying the slide again, avoiding Jackson’s eyes.

  “Here, try this grip instead.” Taking my hand, he turned it so I was pushing the slide toward me rather than trying to pull it. I lost track of what I was doing for a second, too focused on the fact that he’d touched my hand. He had to prompt me. “Now try.”

  To my surprise, I could rack the slide this way, though it was still hard. I hoped if the time ever came when I actually had to use this thing, I’d be able to do it.

  “Safety off, point downrange—”

  “Spread your legs a little farther,” he said.

  Okay, that didn’t help the blush I could still feel, but I moved my feet farther apart.

  “Sight the target . . .” I lined up the bull’s-eye in the center of the chest. “Squeeze the trigger.”

  Even though I knew it was loud, I was still surprised at the hard jerk of the gun in my hand. A thrill of fear went through me and I realized I was shaking.

  “Good job, China,” Jackson said, stepping up behind me. “You hit the target. Now you need to adjust your sight based on how the gun shot for you. Like this.”

  He put his arms on either side of mine, pointing the gun toward the target. I promptly forgot everything I was supposed to be doing as he tried to tell me how to change my sight. His face was right next to mine, pressing lightly on my cheek as he looked down the sight as well. My eyes drifted close and I took a deep whiff of his scent, luxuriating in the feel of his body pressed against my back. And his cheek was so smooth against mine . . .

  “Try that.”

  I was startled from my lapse into fantasy territory and pulled the trigger without even realizing. A sudden burning sensation inside my bra had me yelping and I dropped the gun. I danced around, yanking at my T-shirt.

  “Owowowowow! It burns!”

  “Hold still.” Jackson grabbed my arm and hauled me close, then to my shock, he reached inside the V-neck of my T-shirt. His fingers delved into my bra, brushing briefly over my breasts and nipples before pulling out a bullet casing. He showed it to me. “They can burn you if they touch your skin. Are you all right?”

  My jaw was somewhere around the vicinity of the floor. “Did you just . . . ?” feel me up was what I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “Save you from being burned?” he asked. “You’re welcome.”

  “You copped a feel!” I blurted, his arrogant self-assurance pricking my anger. And my pride. He’d totally touched my . . . well, me . . . and hadn’t seemed to even notice.

  He had the audacity to look affronted. “I was saving you!”

  My words of outrage caught in my throat as I studied his eyes. Earlier, they’d been twinkling with humor. Now, there was something else there, and he still had a hand on my arm. Though it wasn’t a tight grip, he kept me close. Was he . . . flirting? And if so, what was I supposed to do?

  “M-my apologies,” I stammered, thinking fast. “Though maybe y-you should be thanking me rather than the other way around.” I lifted one eyebrow and took a step back. I had no clue where that had come from, but I thought I’d pulled it off. At least it hadn’t come with a crick in my neck.

  We shot some more—without any more cleavage incidents—until Jackson was satisfied that I could operate the gun properly and at least hit the target somewhere in the black.

  “Carry it in your purse,” he said as we climbed into his car.

  “I have a backpack,” I said.

  He glanced at me, his mirrored shades concealing his eyes. “No purse?”

  Yeah, let’s finish putting that nail in the you’re-so-not-a-girl coffin. Oh well. I shrugged. “It’s practical.”

  He mumbled something under his breath and I didn’t ask for clarification.

  When we got to the office, he parked by my car and I got out. I was unlocking my door when he rounded the car and stopped in front of me.

  “Do you feel better now?” he asked.

  Actually, I did. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Good.” Reaching behind me, he opened my door, placing us in close proximity again. I was suddenly reminded of his fingers inside my bra, touching me. “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  I could see him in the rearview mirror, watching me as I drove away.

  Work was piled up when I got to Wyndemere, and I had to leave the gun in my glove box, knowing I’d never get it through security. So I worked, burying myself in a coding error that George had e-mailed about. There was a memory leak somewhere in his team’s segment and they were having trouble finding it.

  While part of my mind was scanning through lines of code, the other part was turning over the big picture inside my head. There was a reason why Tom had wanted only one set of eyes to know all the pieces to the puzzle: it was missing a key part. I hadn’t realized until I’d started going through the modules that built the software, but it was glaringly obvious the deeper I dug. I hoped I was wrong because if I wasn’t, Jackson wasn’t going to be happy about it.

  A knock at my door caused me to glance up. It was John. I motioned him in.

  “You didn’t follow through on sending me the synopsis and status report I requested,” I said as he sat down opposite my desk. Might as well cut right to the chase. Pleasantries were so overrated.

  “I haven’t had time to catch you up,” he said, an edge of disdain in his voice. “I’ll ask my secretary to get something over to you later today. Is that all you wanted?” He stood back up.

  His insolence set my teeth on edge and I stood up, too. “No, that’s not all.” My voice was sharp and he paused on his way to the door to glance back around. “And I didn’t ask for you to have your secretary do it. I want you to do it. Concisely and immediately. Is that understood?”

  We had a staring contest for a moment, then he smiled in an unfunny kind of way.

  “Overcompensating because you’re a girl, right? You may work for Jackson Cooper but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see why.” He gave a scathing glance down and back up my body. “I’ll see what I can do. But stay out of my way. I’ve got a job to do and don’t have time to hold your hand and explain my work.” Then he was gone.

  Shit.

  I plopped back down in my chair. My blood pressure was raging, I was so mad, and I took a deep calming breath. Okay, I took several deep calming breaths.

  Jerk.

  This put me between a rock and a hard place. If I couldn’t manage the team, then Jackson would have to replace me, which would be a bad scenario all the way around. It would make me look incompetent and make Cysnet look unprofessional. Ditto if I asked anyone for backup on handling John. Plus, Jackson would be disappointed and, all in all, disappointing my boss was something I usually tried to avoid.

  I’d have to figure out a
way to outmaneuver John, that was all. Sure. Easy peasy.

  Right.

  Another knock at my door and I glanced up. It was Lana.

  “Hey,” she said with a smile as she stepped inside. “I thought you might want to grab a late lunch?”

  A glance at my phone told me I’d worked through lunchtime and hadn’t even noticed, though now my stomach was growling. Lunch with a near-stranger, though, where I’d have to make small talk and not only discuss work. I shied from that, but thought I should go anyway. She’d worked with John for several years—maybe she’d know why he was being such an ass.

  “Sure, that sounds good. I haven’t eaten yet.”

  I locked my computer and secured my office, grabbing my backpack before following Lana outside.

  “I can drive,” she said, leading me toward her car. It was a recent model Lexus with lots of bells and whistles.

  “Nice car,” I complimented her once we were inside. “So where are we going?”

  “There’s a little lunch place nearby,” she said. “Soup, sandwiches, salads. Is that okay?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “How long have you been with Cysnet?” she asked.

  “This is my fourth year.”

  She glanced from the road to me, her eyes wide. “You must be really smart to have started there so young.”

  Rhetorical statement, so I just gave a bland smile. “What about you?” I asked. “You’ve been at Wyndemere a long time.”

  “Yes. I like it here, though it’s taken a while to get to the position I have.”

  She pulled into a parking lot then, so conversation ceased as we went inside, found a table, and looked through the menu. Once the server had taken our order, I picked up where she’d left off.

  “I did notice that,” I said. “John certainly rose through the ranks quickly, given his background.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started on sexism in the IT industry. I’m sure you get it all the time.”

  We shared a look of mutual understanding. “It’s nice at conferences, though,” I said. “There’s never a line at the restroom.” Which was absolutely true. I’d enjoyed seeing the men’s room line piled up fifty deep.

  Lana laughed. “Obviously I need to go to more conferences.”

  “Two words: DEF CON. It’s insane and I love it, but still—ninety percent men.”

  “I’ll have to check that one out then.”

  We fell silent as the server delivered our lunches and I pondered if I should ask more about John as I picked the frisée out of my salad—I hated that stuff. Just like eating a weed. Maybe Lana would have some insight into how to handle him. But I didn’t have to say anything because she brought him up first.

  “You might want to go easy around John,” she said. “He’s sometimes a bit . . . grumpy.”

  “I have noticed he’s already taken a dislike to me,” I replied. “I’m not sure why.”

  “John is really good at his job, but playing well with others isn’t his specialty. It’s caused problems with his management style and he’s had some complaints. Honestly, I don’t know why he hasn’t been fired. His sexism is quite obvious as well.”

  “Have you had trouble with him?” I asked around a mouthful of romaine.

  She nodded, swallowing before answering. “I was here before him, but he can still be an ass. Occasionally, I have to remind him of that. He doubts everyone’s abilities until you prove yourself.”

  “I’m not going to be here long enough to ‘prove myself,’” I said dryly. “He’s going to have to just deal with thinking I’m incompetent because I have a vagina instead of a penis.”

  Lana snorted iced tea, choking and laughing at the same time as she dabbed her face with a napkin.

  My cell buzzed and I dug it from my pocket. Mia.

  “Are you coming to take me to register?” she asked. “The guardianship papers came today, so we’re all set.”

  Oslo’d had the guardianship papers drawn up and FedExed to me. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I was now legally liable for another human’s welfare.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course. I just lost track of time,” I said. I still had time to get home, pick up Mia, and get to school before office hours ended. “I’m on my way.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I explained to Lana. “My niece, Mia, is living with me and I need to register her for school today.”

  “No problem. I’ll take you back to your car. I was finished anyway.” The server had dropped our check and I reached for it, but Lana beat me to it. “My treat.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I protested. “I should be buying you lunch.”

  She just winked. “I’ll expense it and you can get the next one.”

  I grinned back. “Sounds good. Thank you.”

  She dropped me off by my car and I tossed my backpack in the backseat. I knew I’d need to come back tonight. Too much work still needed to be done. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be that late.

  Unfortunately, it took longer than I thought it would to register Mia—the bureaucracy of the public school moved at a glacial pace. She loaded up on science and math courses, reluctantly adding a history and English course.

  “You have room for a study hall,” the counselor suggested, eyeing her with misgiving.

  “Can I take Advanced Calculus instead?” Mia asked.

  The counselor hesitated, glancing at me. “Well, your grades are very good, but I’m hesitant to load your schedule up with such intensive classes.”

  “I’m good for it,” Mia said, flipping through the course description book.

  The counselor looked at me again, which I took to mean I should say something.

  “She’s very advanced for her age,” I said. The counselor seemed unconvinced. “I’ll keep an eye on her, too, and if she’s overwhelmed, we’ll let you know.” Like that was going to happen. Mia may look like Teenage Barbie, but her IQ was well into triple digits.

  We picked up tacos on the way home—because Friday night was also Mexican night—and I dropped Mia off with strict instructions to ignore Clark if he came to the door. Not that I was expecting that. After last night, I doubted I’d see him again. But just in case.

  “Why can’t I talk to him? What happened last night?” she asked, avid curiosity in her eyes.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just do what I say, okay?”

  “Was he a jerk?”

  I didn’t answer, which apparently was answer enough. Mia snorted.

  “Figures. The pretty ones always are. Asshat. Don’t worry, Aunt Chi. If he comes by, I’ll tell him to go screw himself.”

  “First, that’s anatomically impossible,” I said. “Second, I’d rather you just not answer. He’ll get the hint. Please.”

  She reluctantly nodded and I sighed in relief. I just wanted to forget all about Clark and the disaster of last night. I should’ve known things wouldn’t end up like a romance novel. After all, who really got the man of their dreams and a happily ever after? Not me, that was for sure.

  I was so distracted trying not to think of last night, that I was halfway back to Wyndemere before I realized I was being followed.

  The black sedan stayed two cars behind me, no matter how many lanes I changed or how I sped up or slowed down. After the threat last night, I wasn’t about to ignore this as a coincidence.

  The area I was in was unfamiliar to me and my first thought was to get to Wyndemere as fast as I could, but then I realized a vast, empty parking lot surrounded by woods probably wasn’t the best place to be. My second thought was to go to the police station. Unfortunately, I didn’t know where it was. After discarding both those ideas, a final idea struck me.

  I sped up, the purr of the engine turning into a growl as the car leapt forward. I weaved in and out of traffic, leaving irate honks in my wake. At that point, the sedan gave up the pretense and sped up as well. Literally, I was now in a car chase. Surreal. Good thing I didn’t just own my
Mustang for looks, but actually knew how to drive the thing.

  The wheels ate up the pavement as my speedometer edged toward ninety, the sedan not far behind. I’d give anything to have a cop pull me over right now, but, of course, there was never a cop when you needed one. Go twelve miles an hour in a ten-limit parking garage and they came out of the shadows to give you a ticket. But ninety on the highway? Nothing.

  Rubber squealed as I made a sharp left into a subdivision, my headlights bouncing crazily as they cut through the darkness. I’d never driven to this particular location before, but I knew the address and exactly how to get there, thanks to Google Street View and my penchant for occasional cyberstalking.

  I was far enough ahead of the sedan that I couldn’t see if it had followed me or not, and I didn’t want to slow down to check. Taking another turn that made my tires squeal, I gunned it up the hill, then a hard right and down a long driveway. I didn’t slam on the brakes until the front door of the house was just yards away.

  Grabbing my keys, I leapt out of the car and ran for the front door just as headlights turned up the street, going too fast in this neighborhood to be anyone other than my tail.

  I banged on the door, which had to be twelve feet tall, and glanced around for a doorbell. My palms were sweaty as I clutched my keys in my hand. I didn’t know what would happen if they caught up to me, and I didn’t want to find out. But I was in plain sight here on the front porch . . .

  I hit the door again with the side of my fist, desperate to get inside. Just when I was about to give up and make a dive for the bushes to hide, the door was yanked open.

  “What the hell?” Jackson asked.

  8

  “Please let me in,” I blurted. “Someone’s following me.”

  His gaze swung up behind me and I glanced over my shoulder, then gasped as Jackson’s hand closed on my arm and hauled me inside. He pushed the door shut and hit the light switch, dousing the foyer in darkness.

  Letting me go, Jackson went to the window and moved aside the curtains a bare inch.

  “Who’s following you?” he asked. “And where’s the gun I gave you?”