by Megan Hart
“And a piece of cheesecake?” Too much, he told himself, but Stephanie didn’t seem to think so.
She laughed. “It’s a little early for cheesecake. You could convince me to eat a muffin, though.”
“Done.”
They chatted, more inane small talk, as they left his office and headed around the corner to the Green Bean, where they both ordered hot drinks and blueberry muffins, then took them to a small table in the corner. Watching her warm her hands on the cup, Kent knew there was no way he was going to actually ask her out, dream or no.
“I think I have an idea of who he might be targeting next,” Stephanie said, surprising him.
“You do? How?”
She waved a hand. “Oh. Algorithms. Um...patterns in his previous marks.”
That sounded plausible and yet something in the way she said it gave him pause. “Huh. So what do we do about it? Do we let the potential victim know? That could cause some concern. I mean, if we start scaring our customers, they might simply close their accounts. I don’t think the board’s going to be on...board.”
Carol would’ve rolled her eyes, but Stephanie laughed at his play on words. “No. I agree. We can’t warn them. But you can be prepared for any suspicious activity and handle it if it comes up, before the customer even knows.”
“But you have no idea who’s doing it? No closer to catching him? Or her,” Kent added, to be fair.
“Or...her?” Stephanie paused as though considering that. “No. Sorry. Working on that. But I can give you the name of who might be his next target. You can monitor her account.”
“I guess if that’s the best we can do...”
She blew on her coffee and sipped, then set down the cup to give him a serious look. “I know it’s not the best result, but believe me, Kent, we’re getting closer. Last night I...”
“Last night you what?”
“I got very close,” she said. “Tracking him down.”
Kent had never asked how she did that. He’d always assumed it was with some computer program or something, because even though there’d never been any trace of hacking with any of the thefts, that had to be what was going on. He drank some of his own coffee and watched her tear a bite of her muffin.
“So,” he said after a half minute had passed and neither of them had spoken, “did you have a good weekend?”
“It started off great,” she told him with a grin. “Late-night cheesecake and all.”
Kent smiled. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yep.” She leaned forward a bit to say, like a secret, “It was nice. Really nice.”
“So...” Do it, he urged himself. Just ask her already. “Maybe you’d like to do it again?”
“Oh, yes. For sure. I said so, didn’t I?” An expression fluttered across her face, there and gone so fast he couldn’t determine what it had been. “I mean, in the text. I answered your text.”
“You...did?” Kent pulled his phone from his pocket to check, but no, there’d been nothing. “It didn’t come through.”
She smiled, brow furrowing. “No? Huh. Weird. I guess you thought I must’ve been blowing you off.”
“No. I mean... Yes. I figured you were going to pretend I hadn’t sent it, that’s all. I wasn’t going to mention it.”
They looked at each other across the table, both silent again but this time smiling. Stephanie’s eyes seemed very blue as she looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Would you like to go out again?”
“On a date?” she asked, her tone of voice making it clear she already knew the answer.
Kent nodded. “Yes. On a real, official date. I’ll pick you up at your house and everything.”
“Flowers?” Stephanie asked.
This woman was going to kill him, he thought. In all the best ways. Dead as a doornail.
“Flowers, if you like,” he told her. “Candy, too.”
She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. Her eyes gleamed. She leaned across the table, just a little. “You got it. Friday night?”
“Yes,” Kent said, and some weird impulse made him add, “You promise?”
For a second, he thought he’d gone too far. Too fast, too creepy. What had felt like flirting might’ve come across as too desperate.
She smiled, though. “Yes. Sure. I promise.”
He had no reason for the feeling of relief at her answer, but it was there anyway. “Great. Pick you up at six?”
They chatted about the details for a minute or so longer before Kent caught sight of the time and realized he had to get back to the office for a meeting he was going to be late for. They parted ways in the credit-union parking lot with a half hug he refused to let himself overanalyze. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that he remembered he had never found out the name of the customer Stephanie thought was going to be the thief’s next mark.
CHAPTER 10
“It’s going,” Stephanie said in answer to Vadim’s question about her progress. “Slowly. I get so close, but this guy... It’s like he knows just how to avoid me.”
“He’s probably been doing it for a long time.” Vadim, tall, bald, intimidating, nodded at her from her computer screen. “Do you need backup?”
She shook her head. “No. But if it goes on much longer, more people are going to get duped. I feel bad. I should’ve figured him out by now.”
“All things in their time.” Vadim peered at her. “You look tired.”
Stephanie laughed. “Gee, thanks.”
“You’ve been spending too much time shaping and not enough time simply dreaming,” her boss declared. “You should take tonight off.”
“I’m fine,” she protested but stopped at his look. “I know the rules, Vadim.”
“Everyone needs to dream,” he told her. “Without proper dreaming time, your brain does not count the hours you’re unconscious as true sleep. And without enough sleep...”
She grumbled, “Yes, I know. You go crazy.”
“It’s no joking matter, Stephanie. You are too good to lose to madness.” Vadim frowned. “I insist you take tonight off.”
She couldn’t enter the Ephemeros without being aware that she was dreaming, but she could definitely spend more time relaxing and enjoying the dream world rather than actively working it. “Fine, but if I get even a hint of that guy anywhere around, I’m on it.”
“Of course. But other than that, take a break.” Vadim gave her a small, tight smile. “I am envious of you, of course. To be able to manipulate the dream world. It’s a true talent, one I wish I could cultivate.”
She didn’t blame him. She’d learned in toddlerhood that she could shape and push the Ephemeros and couldn’t imagine not being able to control her dreams. With another few minutes of casual chat, she and Vadim ended their conversation and disconnected the call.
Here it was, a full night off. For a moment, Stephanie thought about calling Denise to see if she wanted to head out on the town, maybe for a hump-day happy hour, but then decided against it. She was going to spend the night at home pampering herself, she thought. A couple glasses of good wine she usually couldn’t otherwise indulge in, because too much alcohol made it hard to function in dreams as much as in the waking world. A steaming bubble bath. A good book. Chocolate. Oh, yeah, she had a couple pieces of decadent, expensive chocolates she’d been saving for a treat, and if a night off decreed by your boss didn’t count, she didn’t know what would.
The only thing that would make it better would be a sexy guy joining her in the tub, Stephanie thought as she settled into the apartment’s vintage claw-foot with her wineglass and the chocolates on a plate. She hadn’t had an orgasm with another person since just before she got assigned to move here, and that had been a rendezvous with Tomas in the Ephemeros. Sh
e and her friend with benefits had been spending quality sexy times with each other, on and off, for decades, though they’d never once met in real life.
She should look him up. Wine, the warm bath, her own slick fingers running over her wet and naked flesh...too many nights without enough quality sleep... She was going to doze right there in the tub. Doze and slip into dreams.
She appeared in the Ephemeros in a warm, bubbling pool of deep-gray-and-blue water faintly scented of lavender. Naked. A little thinner here, a little rounder there, Stephanie noticed with a small chuckle as she stretched in the lovely warmth and let herself float on her back. Above her, a trillion points of light pricked the black velvet of the sky.
Dream, she told herself. Dream, dream, dream.
She did let herself send out some feelers, a little push here and there. Looking for Tomas. When he didn’t respond, looking for anyone.
Stephanie had no problem finding sex in the Ephemeros. In here, she could experiment. Take chances she never would while awake. She could be whoever she pleased, do what she liked. It wasn’t always emotionally fulfilling to wake up alone after a rampant nightly bout of fucking, but it satisfied her body anyway.
Why should tonight be any different, she thought as she stood to get out of the pool. Her skin gleamed in the starlight. Her nipples peaked at the soft, sighing brush of night air against her nakedness. Why shouldn’t she look for a lover here, have her way with him and move on?
Because of Kent, she told herself with a rueful shake of the head. Because she had a date with him in two days, and he was the first real-world guy she’d had any interest in for a long time. Fucking someone else in here wouldn’t be cheating even if they were in a long-term relationship, so why, then, did she feel so hesitant to keep sending out her signals into the Ephemeros’s vastness?
“Stephanie?”
Turning, she shaped a gauzy dress of ribbons that clung to her wet skin. It did nothing to hide her tight nipples or the shadow between her legs. If anything, a dress like that was meant to draw the viewer’s attention to just those places. She’d shaped it without thinking.
“Kent? What are...? Oh. Wow.” She shook her head and covered her breasts briefly with her hands. When she tried to shape a different sort of gown, though, one more modest, the pull of his will stopped her. She paused to look at him. “No?”
“You look beautiful.”
“Of course I do.” She laughed. “It’s a dream.”
It could be tricky, telling a sleeper they were dreaming. Most of the time, they didn’t believe it, and that was fine, unless there was a reason to convince them, like if they were in danger or something. She watched Kent’s face carefully to see if he was shocked.
He smiled. “I should’ve known, right? A woman as beautiful as you wouldn’t give me the time of day otherwise.”
“That’s not true.” She moved a step closer and put a hand on his shoulder. He was warm. “I said yes when you asked me out.”
He looked faintly surprised, as though he’d forgotten. “Oh. Right. But now I’m sleeping. I have to wait a couple days to see you again.”
“You’re seeing me right now,” Stephanie said with a laugh and let herself sink deeper into the dream.
She could’ve shaped them into anything or anywhere using the force of her will. Instead, she opened herself to whatever it was Kent wanted to dream about. She had the night off, after all.
And he was very, very cute.
Yet when he moved to kiss her, as she had the first time he tried, she turned her face at the last second so his lips caught her cheek and not her mouth. Sure, he wouldn’t think of this as real, if he remembered it at all, but she was thinking of Friday and their date and the possibilities ahead of them.
“Wait,” she whispered as he pulled her closer. God, he smelled good. He felt good, too. She could’ve blamed the wine, but no. When he tried to kiss her again, she shook her head. “Wait, I want it to be real. Not just a dream.”
He pulled away to look at her, his expression serious. Then he slayed her with that smile again. “Aren’t you supposed to get what you want in dreams?”
“Yes.” She took a step back. Then another. Crooked her finger to get him to follow. “What you really want is to wait.”
“I can’t argue with that.” He followed.
She took his hand and walked with him through a landscape that shifted and changed with every step. Colors swirled. Neither of them were holding anything in place. Their fingers linked, that was real. Their conversation, words she would not recall in the morning, that was real, too.
“Look,” Stephanie said and waved a hand to make a field of flowers grow in front of them. “Try it.”
Kent wiggled his fingers, but nothing happened. They both laughed. He tried again, sprouting a dandelion he then plucked for her so she could blow away the seeds. They walked. Night was heading toward morning, and she didn’t want to wake up.
They’d been laughing about nothing important when Kent stopped so short that Stephanie kept walking for a few steps before she looked up. “Kent?”
“Hey, I know her,” he said. “Who’s she talking to?”
She looked to where he was pointing. Her happy, giddy mood vanished when she saw the elderly woman sitting in a recliner, leaning forward to listen as a man in a long black leather coat whispered in her ear.
“Oh, shit. It’s him!” she cried and leaped toward them.
That was when the wave came up and swept her away.
She woke, spluttering, her head beneath the water of the tub. Cursing, she got out, coughing. That had been stupid. She dried off and put on some comfy pajamas, her earlier good feelings about the dream with Kent fading. No matter how nice it had been inside, there was never any telling what it would be like for real.
Worse, she’d once again let Mr. Slick slip through her grasp.
CHAPTER 11
He’d been waiting all week for Friday, but not for this reason. Another account compromised. This time it had been his mother’s.
The credit union was insured, of course, but that didn’t help make him feel much better when he’d pulled up Mom’s accounts after she’d called him questioning why her automatic bill payment hadn’t gone through from her checking. Kent had spent all morning trying to figure out where the money had gone, how it had been withdrawn without a trace. His stomach sick, he’d transferred a couple thousand of his own money into Mom’s account to cover the rest of her bills. Fortunately, the thief hadn’t drained her savings or money-management accounts, and Kent worked quickly to change Mom over to all new accounts, but in the end it didn’t make him feel much better.
He’d called Stephanie immediately but got her voice mail. He hadn’t left a message. He’d spent the rest of the day fielding inquiries from the board and sifting through data files to see if he could catch any signs of other thefts. Nobody called to complain, so he supposed everything was all right, but for how much longer?
By the end of the day, his head hurt from clenching his jaw. His stomach churned from the stress. He got out of work too late to go home and shower or change. He was going to be late picking her up.
He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
It wasn’t Stephanie’s fault, and he knew that. She was one investigator working on a case that Kent could see was unusual. But if she’d done her job by now, his mom wouldn’t have had her checking account wiped out.
Sitting in the parking spot in front of her apartment, he pulled out his phone. He should call. Make an excuse. Send a text?
Too late—the curtain of her apartment door twitched, and the door itself opened as Stephanie peeked out. He could see her smile from here. Shit. She waved him in.
He’d make an excuse, Kent thought. Say he was coming down with something, which was what it felt like, sort of, to s
tand on her front mat and think about telling her he didn’t want to go out with her, after all.
He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Stephanie pushed up onto her tiptoes to put her arms around his neck. Her cheek pressed to his, she said softly into his ear, “I’m so sorry about your mom. We are going to catch this son of a bitch. I promise you, Kent. I’m going to make it my mission in life to track him down and make him sorry he ever lifted a single cent from anyone.”
His arms had gone around her automatically. His eyes closed. He pressed his face into the softness of her dark hair and breathed in the sweetness of her perfume, something light and fresh. Citrus. Damn it, she felt good in his arms, and her words had taken away some of his earlier frustration.
Stephanie stepped back from him, though she let her hands run down his shoulders to rest lightly on his forearms. His hands had anchored on her hips. She looked up at him, her brow furrowed, her mouth thin.
“If you don’t feel like taking me out, Kent, I get it.”
It had been what he’d been thinking all day long, but when he was faced with her actually saying it, all he could do was shake his head. “No. Look, it’s not your fault—”
“It is. If I’d caught this guy before now,” she said, “your mom would’ve been okay. So would all those other people.”
His fingers curled a little on her hips. She wore soft leggings and a slouchy sweater, but beneath that, he could feel her curves. “It’s not your fault he’s a thief.”
She tipped her face to look up at him. “I’ve been on the case for six months. It’s long past time I caught him. That’s all. You might not blame me, but I take responsibility. So if you don’t want to go out...”
“No. I asked you out. We should go out.”
Neither of them moved. A flash of a dream came to him, the two of them walking through fields of flowers, hand in hand. He remembered her laughing.
“I...dreamed about you,” he said. “Night before last.”