Stripping Bare (Steele Ridge Book 7)

by Kelsey Browning

  “One, I don’t think you’d be showing it to me if you had. Two, everything I’ve ever seen you sign is done with T. Martin. Sometimes T. Martin, Psy.D.” He tossed the pages onto the counter. “What’s going on here, Tessa?”

  6

  “I’m afraid someone hacked my files,” she said, “so I checked with the data company where I store all my client notes.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They completely denied a breach.”

  “Not smart.” Most companies had learned it was far better to get in front of something like this. Because by the time the inevitable truth came out later, customers had lost all trust. His mom was still boycotting a national discount chain after her credit card number had been compromised and the company claimed they’d never been hacked. But Jonah had been inside their system and knew better. “Have you checked all your other accounts? If someone hacked one, they might’ve wiggled their way into everything.”

  “Identity theft?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe someone’s just doing it for kicks.” He’d done his own share of hacking in the past, but never just for shits and giggles. It always served a purpose, and one specific purpose when it came to Tessa. “But you can’t afford to ignore this. Did you report it to anyone?”

  “Not yet, because I wasn’t sure what I was dealing with. That’s the reason I came to you.” Her expression of relief turned wary. “Maybe you could call the company?”

  Now he was the one to snort. “If they denied a security breach, it’s doubtful they’ll change their story. What’s the company?”

  “DataFort.”

  “Irony is running wild and free today, isn’t it?” He reached for a laptop, one of six in his house. And that wasn’t counting all the equipment in his command center down the hall from the kitchen. With a few rapid keystrokes, he pulled up the company’s website just to get a feel for how the login process worked. Normal enough. “Do you keep your passwords stored on your computer?”

  “No. I don’t have to because I have a fairly good memory.”

  “You’re way ahead of most people then.” He clicked over and opened a program called Exposure, which scanned sites for vulnerabilities. After typing in the company’s URL, he hit the “Achilles Heel” button. The search ran for several minutes, and he expected cracks to pop up right and left.

  Nothing.

  “Well?” Tessa asked.

  He glanced up to find her leaning over the counter, the neck on her shirt gaping just enough to show her silky-looking purple bra.

  Stop looking at her breasts.

  The one time he’d had the pleasure of looking at and touching them had ended badly. Badly? It had been a shit show afterward, with him pushing away from her in self-disgust.

  She, on the other hand, had calmly pulled on her half-torn camisole and made him talk to her. To this day, he wasn’t totally sure what he’d said.

  Now, out of sheer self-defense, he shifted his focus back to his keyboard. “They look pretty airtight in this scan.”

  But that was only one small trick in his bag.

  The next piece of software he pulled up performed SQL injections and was humorously named gulrót, Icelandic for carrot, slang for penis. Penis. Penetration. Har-har. Who said geeks didn’t have senses of humor?

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Trying to penetrate their database and grab usernames and passwords.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Tessa jumped off the stool and rounded the island in a flash. She grabbed one of his hands and pulled it away from the computer keys. Like that would stop him. He could type faster with one hand than most people could with two. “I just wanted you to find out if I had been hacked.”

  “Takes a hacker to catch a one.”

  “I changed my mind about this.” When she saw that capturing his hand hadn’t slowed him down, she inserted herself between him and the counter where his laptop was sitting. A space of about three inches, which meant her body gave his a full-contact sweep.

  Every nerve in Jonah’s belly and chest went on high alert. Hell, some of the ones in his back did, too. Tessa was a petite woman, with rounded hips, a definitive waist, and breasts that would make any man alive take a second look. And they were all pressed up against him.

  He cleared his throat and tried to step back, but she caught him by the forearms, which had apparently become an erogenous zone.

  “I was doing something here,” he said, so damn glad his voice was even when he could barely think straight.

  “Something illegal, which means you could go to jail for it. Haven’t you had enough threat of that within the past few months?”

  Yeah, things had been dicey there for a while after Micki had returned to North Carolina. He was still living with an assload of guilt over what she’d done for him. Ten years. She’d spent ten years of her life trying to protect him, trying to make sure her scum-wad of a boss wouldn’t pull a bunch of backroom strings to have Jonah locked up. That son of a bitch was the one lounging around in orange pajamas these days because Tessa had been willing to keep Jonah’s ass out of prison for a crime he hadn’t committed.

  A crime that had been committed against her.

  She had been the victim, not him.

  He had no right to feel an ounce of mental anguish, so he’d kept his mouth shut about how a crime against her had impacted him so damn much.

  But her eyes were mesmerizing, so full of concern that he wanted to step into them. Just let the past and all his mistakes be swallowed up.

  Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way.

  Becoming involved with Tessa would mean she’d inevitably find out what he’d done. And she’d hate him for it, especially when she realized he’d do it all over again.

  So he sidestepped and tried not to eat up the feel of his body sliding across hers. “They would have to catch me to arrest me. Believe me, that ain’t gonna happen.” Cocky meant he was in control. Good. He was fine. On an even keel. But when he reached behind Tessa for his computer and saw the screen, he said, “Dammit.”

  She whirled around, one of her hips skimming his fly. “What?”

  “My GET command pulled nothing.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Both. It means the company is smart and is walking their talk. But it’s bad because it isn’t simple for someone to grab your credentials.”

  “Which means they couldn’t log in as me and access my case files. Then what happened? Any physical notes I make during a session are transcribed and then cross-shredded. I don’t leave behind a paper trail. The information Carson shared with me about his past doesn’t exist anywhere except that database.”

  Carson’s past. Carson. Maybe this didn’t have a thing to do with Tessa. “You can’t be the only person in the world who knew the guy was once busted for stalking an old girlfriend. Hell, he told me about it. So who else? Old friends? Family?”

  “But why the bogus note from me?”

  “Maybe Carson told someone he was doing sessions with you and they saw an opportunity for blackmail that wouldn’t be traced back to them.”

  Tessa ran a fingertip along her bottom lip in thoughtful silence. Jonah watched it slowly slide from side to side, her pearl-painted nail a contrast against her darker skin. Even the smallest detail about this woman made a hunger blaze in his belly. “I doubt it, because two more e-mails were sent from my account.” She let out a shaky breath. “And one of them went to Davey Sinchilla.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I could try to talk my way inside the company, but based on the nature of their data, it would take a long time, with my bet on exactly never.”

  “As much as I hate to say this, you’re right. I need you to get in and look around any way you can. See if you can figure out who hacked in.” She took a breath and reached for her teacup, but she didn’t drink. Just stared down into the liquid. “Because this system was so secure, I not only kept my patient fi
les inside, but I recorded an audio diary as well.”

  “And you’re worried that was compromised, too.”

  She still wouldn’t look at him. “Sometimes I documented important events. Sometimes I made observations about people who weren’t officially my clients.”

  A bad feeling swarmed over Jonah, making his skin flash hot then cold. “What kind of observations and what people?”

  “Family, strangers, friends, even lovers.”

  “What are you saying?”

  When her head came up, an apology was swimming in her eyes. “I sort of recorded the conversation you and I had the night we had sex.”

  If the look on Jonah’s face held any more shock, he’d probably be comatose. And while Tessa watched, that initial expression of surprise slowly transformed. The muscles around his mouth, in his cheeks, near his eyes went from slack to stone.

  Yeah, she’d been pretty certain this wouldn’t go well. But if the sick, sloshy feeling in her stomach was any indication, it was even worse than she’d imagined.

  “You…you did what?”

  “Let me expl—”

  “I am not your client, have never been your client, will never fucking be your client.” With one swift movement, he slammed his laptop closed with a swack. He stood there gripping his computer, the tendons in his forearms making his gaming tats bulge. For the first time ever, they looked menacing instead of sexy.

  Tessa swallowed back her ripple of unease. “I know that,” she said in an even tone. “Recording a journal is a habit I started in graduate school. Harmless because I never forced my opinions—sometimes naive and untrained—on people. It was just a way for me to teach myself to observe and think.”

  “And diagnose people who didn’t give you permission to muck around in their shit.” With a careless hand, he gestured toward his computer as if it suddenly disgusted him. “And obviously not harmless if some hacker compromised your files.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, some notes about my own past were stored there as well.” Recording her thoughts were helpful when her memories—and the vulnerability that came with them—came roaring back. Like they had last year when Jonah had asked her to talk with the authorities and clear him.

  “That was your own decision.” The fire burning in his hazel eyes said this was a big deal to him. Very big. Maybe too big.

  Jonah ran his hands up his cheeks, creating a subtle scraping sound against the stubble Tessa found so incredibly sexy. He pressed his palms against his temples and dragged his fingers up through his shaggy hair, making little tufts stick up on either side and giving him a Wolverine vibe.

  Tessa wasn’t able to suppress her shiver.

  Uh-uh, sister. Not the place. Not the time.

  She had a serious mess to clean up. “I’m sorry I’m asking you to do something like this, but if my files were compromised, I have an obligation to my clients.”

  “To your clients?” His lip twitched into a tiny snarl. “I sure as hell don’t remember signing a consent form.”

  She reached for his arm, but he jerked away and stalked toward the refrigerator. The force he used to open the stainless steel door made all the condiments inside rattle against one another. He stood there, staring into the cavernous space, his hand curled so tightly around the door handle that his knuckle bones looked as they might suddenly burst through his skin.

  Stop with the Hugh Jackman thoughts.

  “I overstepped and I admit it.” How would he respond if he knew the recorder had accidentally been rolling while they had sex? In layman’s terms, he’d lose his shit. “I’m trying to make it right.”

  “No, you’re asking me to make it right.”

  “What the hell do you want from me, Jonah?”

  He swung around to stare at her, because of her acerbic tone or the curse word, she didn’t know. And cared even less.

  “You’re right. I screwed up, and now things are a fucking mess. Are you going to help me or not?”

  “I’ve never heard a four-letter word come out of your mouth. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Oh, he had no earthly idea what was inside her. And it was a lot. Years ago, she’d been full of anger and self-pity, falling into complete victim mode after the rapes.

  The nightmare Jonah had ultimately rescued her from. He’d carried her out of that house.

  From what Tessa’s mom told her later, she had been a physical mess—clothes torn, nails jagged, skin bloody—when they found her lying on the front porch of their Asheville home.

  And later, she’d been an emotional mess.

  But she’d worked hard to get back on track. When she’d been awarded a full ride to University of Washington, she was elated. Finally, she was back in the driver’s seat of her life. Professionally, at least.

  Recovering personally had taken her awhile—both in time and therapy. Her therapist had guided her on a journey to regain agency over her own body.

  Eventually, she’d been able to have consensual sex with a man. Unlike some sexual assault survivors, Tessa hadn’t delved into a pool of promiscuity. Actually, she’d slept with only a few men. And she’d made her choices very deliberately.

  So she had all kinds of hidden reserves Jonah knew nothing about. She stalked—her hips swinging and her head cocked in challenge—toward him.

  The scent of evergreen and pleasantly sweaty man almost distracted her. Almost made her back down and try to smooth things over.

  No, he needs to hear this.

  Her pointer finger found a perfect spot in the center of his pectorals. Beneath her nail, his flesh and muscle gave until she could feel his breastbone. And she was shallow enough to be gratified when his nipples tightened under his shirt.

  “You think you know me,” she said softly. Deadly. “But you’re wrong. Tell the truth—when you look at me, you still see a victim. A girl who had no choice, no ability to fight back.”

  His throat contracted as he swallowed. “I’m not saying—”

  “Well, guess what? That girl is still a part of me, but she’s the part that makes me strong.”

  “Tessa, I—”

  “Did you know that I not only took self-defense in college, but that I taught classes in Seattle?” She could tell by his openmouthed expression that he hadn’t. “That’s right. I know how to drop a man with a hammer blow to the temple. I know all the vulnerable spots on the human body. I know how to take care of myself. But you see me as frozen in time. Regardless of my age, education, or work, you still picture me as I was that night.”

  “It’s a pretty damn hard thing to forget, so don’t expect me to ever do it.”

  Which meant coming to Jonah for help had been a mistake. She needed to finally admit the truth to herself. She saw Jonah as a man, but he saw her as a helpless girl.

  So she removed her finger from the center of his chest and gave him a pat—noting that his heart was flinging itself against his ribs. If only things could have been different between them.

  She rounded the kitchen island and picked up her bag. “Thanks for reminding me that I don’t need you to play hero for me. I’ll hire someone else to track down this hacker if I have to, because I will get to the bottom of this situation.” And with that, she and her pride walked out his front door.

  Stunned, he stood there staring at it. When his brain finally connected with his feet, he hurried to fling open the door, but Tessa was already driving away.

  Dammit. What had just happened here?

  Jonah’s conscience nagged at him to follow Tessa, to make this right.

  But his pride? Well, it didn’t give a flying fuck what his conscience was whining about. She’d made notes about him.

  If he were a lesser man, he’d sue her. Sue the pants right off…

  The picture of cream-colored lace panties hugging her hips invaded his mind, filling every nook, every cranny.

  Get your head on straight, Steele.

  Years ago, he’d
sworn to himself that he’d help Tessa in any way he could. And he’d done just that, behind the scenes. Yet now he’d let her walk out the door when she needed him.

  Needed skills he’d used in her defense before. Skills he’d used to create havoc in Shaw’s life and those of his buddies.

  But where was Tessa’s hero this time? She’d pissed him off, so he’d abandoned her.

  Just like he had that night.

  From inside his pocket, his phone vibrated, but he ignored it and stalked to his fridge to yank out a six-pack. The first can gave a satisfying pshht when he popped the tab. He lifted the beer to his mouth, but the smell of it suddenly turned his stomach. He upended the can over the sink and watched the pale yellow liquid gurgle down the drain.

  Fuck it all.

  One after the other, he opened the cans and dumped them out.

  Tessa had treated him like he was just some head case off the street. Then again, she’d admitted that she had done the same for herself. Someone had pilfered through the most private details of her life.

  Someone had violated her again.

  When his phone buzzed again, he dug it out of his pocket and saw that it was a blocked number. It could be Dianne Baxter, the director of a women’s and children’s shelter in Asheville. He needed to get her a dedicated phone so he’d know when she was calling, but he took a chance and answered. “Steele here.”

  “Jonah, we have a problem.”

  He was relieved to find he’d guessed correctly. But he didn’t like the tone of Dianne’s voice. He’d never heard that combination of fear and anger from her. Adrenaline shot through his body. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve got two kids missing, and the other children say a man took them from the play yard.”

  Son of a bitch. That area behind the shelter was privacy fenced, wired to a private security company, and secured with the latest, greatest electronic locks. “How?”

  “He chopped through the fence with an axe. By the time the staff and security company were alerted, he was long gone.”