by Jeanne Adams
“I don’t think anything in there will be useable,” Paul murmured, his voice ripe with sympathy.
“I have to see if my files are here. I have a fireproof box,” she managed, then stopped again, realizing that it alone would be undamaged.
Fetching it from the soot-covered drawer, she cradled it in her arms.
“I’ll hold onto that for you if you want to check on the things in your room.”
Not daring to look at him, knowing the least bit of pity would have her either flying into sobs, or the opposite, roaring into anger, Torie handed him the case. It was like a tackle box, only metal and bright red.
“You’re a smart woman,” he complimented, following behind her as she moved past him into the hallway. “Most people never get around to this sort of protection.”
She suppressed a shudder. “I never thought I’d need it.”
When she had to stop in the doorway to her room, he moved up behind her, his free hand pressing her shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. If nothing else had happened between them, if all were still wretched and horrible, that gesture alone would have gone miles toward mending things.
As it was, his presence, his comfort unlocked something frozen within her, something dark and powerful. Something primitive. She wanted to forget everything that had happened between them. Take back the words about trust and pain she’d spewed to him in the car. Make him…
“Torie?”
She couldn’t speak for a moment. Emotion choked her, both about her house, and about him. Clearing her throat, she managed a brief, “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Being here.”
He said nothing, just squeezed her shoulder again.
That gave her the courage to move forward into the disaster area that had once been her tidy, restful master bedroom.
Damn. Close calls were not part of the plan. Stories of an intruder weren’t part of the plan either.
Slipping into the back entrance of the hotel near his condo, he took the elevator to the business center. Logging on with the usual code, he quickly hacked into the Pratt website and database. There was a lot to be done in a short amount of time. In order to finish, eliminate any traces, he’d have to do the last of it from a remote location. He didn’t want any log-ons from any one place in the downtown area. Tonight he could drive out to the ’burbs. There was a cybercafe across the river in Camden that he’d used to good effect before. That would confuse things, to use a New Jersey address.
He had to be more careful now. No one should have been in the building to see him when he went to check Jameson’s office. That had been a narrow escape.
He hated to have to run.
His cell phone rang. He ignored it the first time, but when it chimed twice more in quick succession, he picked it up.
“Hey, baby,” she purred.
“Why are you calling me?” he hissed. He hated the whine. It made a red haze of anger rise within him. Just the sound of it made him grind his teeth. He’d started dating her after she was fired from the office, just to get information. She’d proved a useful tool, but she wasn’t what he wanted. It would be fun to flaunt her, though.
“Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”
Hurt silence replaced the whine.
“Don’t pout. I’m working, and you know it makes me short-tempered,” he said, attempting to soften his tone. He needed her. Besides, she liked to fuck.
“I do understand,” she said. Thankfully, the whine was gone, replaced by ridiculous hauteur. “Lose the temper and the attitude before you stop by.”
That was more like it. She didn’t realize how she betrayed her need for recognition, for attention, by that very attitude. He knew how to work that.
“Got it.”
“How long?”
“Two, maybe three hours.”
“I’ll be waiting. I’ll wear—” Throaty laughter purred through the phone’s small speakers, and he felt himself harden into instant desire.
That laugh always did it to him. Probably why he’d always wanted Torie, until Todd had gotten ahold of her. He would give anything to hear Torie laugh that way with him, need him.
Shaking off the thought, he focused on the words. Smiled. Felt a heightened arousal at the realization that he was the one in charge.
No one knew it. That just made it more delicious.
“You’ll come by—”
“I said,” he emphasized, “I’ll be there. Let me finish this, so I can come…to you.” He let the double entendre hang between them, tantalizing.
As he did it though, his fingers were flying over the keys, entering codes and inserting the specially designed virus to slowly erode the law firm’s source files. Within days, Paul Jameson’s files would disappear one by one.
They’d be able to reconstruct the list, if they had time.
He didn’t plan on giving them time.
Chapter Ten
With Paul’s help, Torie carried three trash bags of clothes out to his waiting car. Piling them in the trunk, she worried about how much they stank. Would she ever get them clean? A fourth bag contained her laptop, which she hoped would either still work, or that the hard drive would be salvageable.
Sorrels and Marsden, who had checked over and listed everything she’d removed, were locking up the house.
They came over to the car, eyeing the sleek, expensive vehicle, one with disdain, the other with admiration.
“Ms. Hagen, I think we’ll be able to release your house as a crime scene within the next few days. We’ve got a report to write, but other than that, it should be pretty routine. After that, you can start getting folks in here to help you clean up.”
“Thank you, Inspector Sorrels.” She glanced at the house, looked away. It was so forlorn. “Can I get the settee out of the trash pile? Start work on that?”
“Settee?” Marsden looked back at the soggy mess. “You think you’ll be able to salvage that?” Everything about his statement bespoke doubt that she could manage it.
“I need to try, Inspector. That’s been in my family a long time.”
He shook his head, but said, “Good luck. You can get it started, but don’t touch anything on the house until you hear from us. Got it?”
“Got it.”
They said their good-byes, and Torie climbed into the car. Before Paul closed her door, she saw him salute toward a distant, unremarkable Toyota SUV. The lights flashed but the car didn’t move.
Paul didn’t mention it when he got behind the wheel. Instead, he talked about Sorrels and Marsden.
“That was tough on you. Do you have any idea what they wanted? I mean, what they really wanted?”
“No, not entirely. They seemed focused on asking me where I was and what I heard. Sorrels seemed satisfied when I said two breaks of the glass, two thuds, two explosions.”
“Hmmm. Coordinating their findings.”
“What does that mean for me?”
“Faster resolution, maybe.”
“So what was all the cloak and dagger stuff with the SUV?”
Paul grinned. “Cloak and dagger? Isn’t that painting it a bit grim?”
“Everything in my life is grim right now,” Torie replied, feeling as if it were true.
At the stoplight, Paul sent her a searing look. “Everything?”
His implication was obvious, and it lightened her heart. It also turned her on. “Not everything,” she admitted.
“That was today’s bodyguard.”
“Today’s? What do you mean?”
“I could only get short-term again today. I think I’ve got someone who can do it, though, for the next week or so.”
She shuddered. “I hope I don’t need it that long.”
Paul didn’t say anything. She let it go, not wanting to think about the alternative. “I need to call Barbara, my insurance lady.” She pulled a notepad from her purse. “Do you mind?”
“No, go ahead.”
Paul listened to Torie’s si
de of the conversation, making mental notes of what he needed to ask her. He also needed to suggest several workmen, firms who had helped him with small jobs, as well as one company he’d heard of who remediated smoke and water damage. He hadn’t ever used them himself, thank goodness, but he knew their reputation.
“I see, yes. I’m at a friend’s house. Yes. They’re both crime scenes. Yes. I don’t know. Just a minute, my friend should know.” She held the phone to her chest, covering the receiver to mask her question. “Barbara wants to know if I’m still being charged by the hotel. For the room. They let me get the rest of my things, but I don’t think I officially checked out. Can they do that?”
Paul nodded, but added. “We’ll run by there and take care of it.”
“Okay.” She went back to the call saying she’d check out. “Yes, I’ll be in touch with someone. Can you email that to me? Yes, my computer is, well, toast, but I have my PDA. I’m taking the computer to the repair—” She stopped to listen. “Oh, okay. I will. Yes.”
They hung up, and Torie took time to jot everything down. With a weary sound, she turned to Paul. “You know, I’m a detail person, but this level of note-taking is going to drive me bats.”
“Where to?”
“Oh, sorry, two blocks over, the dry cleaner on Washington Street.”
He helped her haul in the bags, and waited as she haggled with the clerk about when things would be ready and what to do if they decided something couldn’t be returned to smoke-free usefulness.
“I’m going to need to do some more of this kind of thing,” she said as they walked back to the car. “Do you want me to take you back to the office after we go to the hotel? Oh,” she said, remembering suddenly, “the rental car is at the hotel. I should—”
Paul interrupted. “No, it’s been impounded. It was damaged, too. Martha took care of notifying the rental car place. She said you took out the extra insurance, right?”
Torie sat for a moment, just staring. The rental car, too. “How bad was it, in the hotel room at the Extended Suites?” she asked, knowing she’d been hiding her head in the sand about that since it happened. She hadn’t asked, hadn’t wanted to know. Until this moment, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
Paul looked at the road, and without facing her said, “It was bad, Torie. The damage and the destruction are escalating. And Tibbet is worried because this person’s getting bolder.” He glanced at her, as if to gauge her reaction. “The fire alarm, the shooting, everything. Before he was just taking his anger out on you and Todd in random ways, malicious mischief if you want the technical term.”
“I think running someone over with a car and killing them is more than malicious mischief,” she said, gripping her hands together so tightly the knuckles cracked.
“Yeah, Tibbet thinks so, too. He’s worried about you.” Paul took a hand off the steering wheel and covered her clenched fingers. “I’m worried, too.”
Taking a deep breath, Torie asked the question that was looming in her mind, and had been hovering all day. “Is that what this morning was? Between us? Worry? Stress?”
With a quick twist of the wheel and a squeal of tires behind him, Paul pulled to the curb and slapped on the four-way flashers. “Oh, no, Torie. That wasn’t worry.”
His eyes were boring into hers, and his strong palm closed more snugly over her folded hands.
“That was…” He hesitated, stopped.
Torie waited for him to continue, unsure of what she would hear, what she wanted to hear. When the silence dragged out, she had to fill it.
“What? Right? Wrong? Good? Bad?”
He laughed, but it wasn’t like a belly laugh, or filled with humor. “Bad? Oh, no. Never bad, not with you. Bad for us, maybe. The worst thing we could do, since you’re a suspect and I’m your lawyer.” He looked at her, and she saw desire shimmer in his eyes. It was as reassuring as it was exciting. “But never, never bad. It couldn’t be.”
When she couldn’t speak, couldn’t respond, he smiled. It was a little smug, which irritated her, but when he unlatched the seat belt and swooped in to kiss her, all thought of irritation fled.
In fact, she stopped thinking all together.
The world narrowed to the sensation of his mouth on hers, of his hand on her face, drawing her closer. Nothing seemed real except those two things.
When he broke it off, sat back and relatched his seat belt, she felt bereft.
“Never bad, Torie,” he reiterated. “Not with you.”
Pulling away from the curb amidst honking horns, he took her hand, lacing their fingers together. It was an intimate gesture. Lover like.
Into the deepening silence he asked, “And what did you think about it?”
How did she put it into words? She had asked for it, initiated it. The result, the chance to finally touch him, be with him, had been mind-blowing in so many ways. The fact that she’d been able to trust him enough to find her own release, not just kind of moan and fake it, was actually scary.
“Torie?” He pulled into the parking deck at his office, and parked. “Talk to me.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level. “It was—”
“What?” he interrupted, sounding anxious.
Looking at him, facing him, she told the truth. “Beyond my wildest expectation. Incredible. What do you want me to say?”
He smiled. A true smile that twinkled in his eyes. “That works.”
People were coming and going in the garage, and he glanced at them. His newly upgraded parking space was second row center, close to the elevator. Way too visible to do what he was obviously thinking about.
“It works for you? I’m so glad,” her reply was half-pleased, half-sarcastic.
His smile stayed in place, but he sighed. “It’s not going to be a picnic, Torie. It’s already so complicated with all you have going on, just with the fire. That alone is terrible. When you add in everything else, it’s so complex, it’s mind-boggling.”
“Todd,” she whispered. “The shootings.”
“Everything from Todd to the vandalism. It’s all directed at you now. It’s the worst time for any kind of additional complication, especially for something between the two of us.”
“You say that like everything is my fault.”
“No,” he said sharply. “It’s not about fault. This isn’t your fault. Someone has fixated on you, Torie, and that’s dangerous.” He frowned, looking away. “There are so many things we need to get out. Clear the air.”
“Secrets,” she began.
Before they could continue, both their phones rang.
“Yes. We need to talk. When we can be alone. You’ll stay at my house again tonight. We’ll talk then.” He whipped out his phone and answered it. “It’s what?” He flicked a glance her way. “I’m in the garage. I’ll be right up.”
Torie listened to her insurance agent detail the next steps she needed to take, taking in as much of it as she could manage. Part of her mind was still thinking about Paul, about what he’d said. She heard his surprise and looked over. He looked like a storm cloud, angry and fierce.
“Um, Barbara, may I call you back? Thanks.” To Paul, she said, “What? What is it?”
“Somebody hacked into the firm’s files. Everything in every file which mentions you or Todd has been deleted or corrupted. I have to get up there and see how much I have in the paper files, be sure none of them were tampered with in the break-in the other day.”
“Oh, my gosh. How?”
“We don’t know. Now I’ve got more police to talk to. Cybercrimes, this time.”
Torie sighed, leaning back into the seat for a moment. “I want to say ‘what next?’ but I don’t dare.”
“No, please. Nothing more.” Paul laughed ruefully. He hesitated. “Take the car, do what you need to do. Call me, let me know where you are, okay?”
“Okay.” She tried to disentangle her hands from his, but they were firmly planted on hers. “
What?”
“Be careful. Really careful. Whoever this is, whoever wants to hurt you, isn’t sane.”
A shudder ran up her spine. “I know.”
“I need to…”
“I know. Go. I’ll manage. It’s what I’ve learned to do.”
Paul was about to say something, but his phone rang again and he shook his head. “We’ll talk. Just be careful. Don’t drive too fast, either. Let Marco keep up.”
“Will do.”
She came around the front of the car as Paul moved toward the stairs. He stopped again, phone to his ear as if to come back to her. Was he going to kiss her? In public?
Evidently he thought better of whatever he’d been about to do, pressing the phone more firmly to his ear and raising a hand in a good-bye wave.
She returned the salute as she got in, looking for him in the rearview mirror as she pulled away.
“I’m insane. I slept with Paul Jameson. Holy crap.”
She had to call Pam. What was she going to do? Her job…Oh, God, her job. They didn’t want her. They’d left her a voice mail. Didn’t have the decency to tell her in person.
That put things in perspective on the work front, that was for sure.
On the home front, well, it couldn’t be much more of a disaster. Her stomach lurched thinking about the house, the smell of smoke and water, the whole depressing mess. Which reminded her to call Barbara.
“Hi, Barbara, it’s Torie Hagen.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you called. Listen, I discovered a rider on your policy for jewelry and electronics. Did you remember purchasing that?”
Did she? No, but what did that prove?
“Yes, I think so. Does it cover my new laptop I’m going to have to buy?”
“Oh, yes, and several other things, like printers and the other things, the hickeedoos that hook everything up, the wireless parts.”
Hickeedoos. That would be the technical term. Torie was glad to find at least one thing she could smile about in the whole mess of her life.
“And the jewelry? I do remember that.” It covered her grandmother’s earrings and necklace, several antique pieces. Oh, Lord, she hadn’t thought about that. “Oh.” She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out.