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Code Conspiracy
Carol Ericson
Her computer is her greatest weapon. When Gray Prescott asks hacker, and ex-girlfriend, Jerrica West to use her skills to locate his missing Delta Force leader, neither expect the danger that awaits them. Soon Jerrica must put her faith in the man she left once before, and might be forced to walk away from all over again…


Her computer is her greatest weapon.
Hacker Jerrica West doesn’t abide by the rules, so when her by-the-book ex recruits her to locate his missing Delta Force leader, she’s shocked. Gray Prescott is a hard man to refuse, but this assignment is more dangerous than either of them could have guessed. When the cybertrail exposes a terrorist plot, Jerrica must put her faith in the man she might be forced to walk away from all over again…
CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com (http://www.carolericson.com), ‘where romance flirts with danger.’
Also by Carol Ericson (#udd91938a-3a8b-5848-8720-801a1eaf13f8)
Enemy Infiltration
Undercover Accomplice
Delta Force Defender
Delta Force Daddy
Delta Force Die Hard
Locked, Loaded and SEALed
Alpha Bravo SEAL
Bullseye: SEAL
Point Blank SEAL
Secured by the SEAL
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Code Conspiracy
Carol Ericson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-0-008-90481-4
CODE CONSPIRACY
© 2019 Carol Ericson
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Note to Readers (#udd91938a-3a8b-5848-8720-801a1eaf13f8)
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Contents
Cover (#u8bccd26a-7d3f-53aa-9747-7e02b6341915)
Back Cover Text (#uf1cb2c3d-4d5e-5021-9913-e03c4251783c)
About the Author (#u3cba78b9-ca5e-50fc-b083-ce8b03cc3ca5)
Booklist (#uecab458a-1394-5aab-9477-8756de6db0ec)
Title Page (#ud72abbe4-50a6-5a93-a9dd-1cd3f81c7b97)
Copyright (#u25bf13cd-ec87-5c6c-bf31-883604426cc2)
Note to Readers
Prologue (#u51ad2b05-70d6-50e0-8e70-e13aa543bbfe)
Chapter One (#u52017b91-21ac-5bdd-9e28-55e439606d69)
Chapter Two (#u7f455849-8921-58dd-9803-f33955b2fe3f)
Chapter Three (#u1cf7dcf9-d9aa-5d26-a3e4-5e6289a55101)
Chapter Four (#u75b45e03-7a87-585b-b39b-7969e4f4c61d)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#udd91938a-3a8b-5848-8720-801a1eaf13f8)
“Dreadworm.”
The speaker, slouching behind a post on the tracks of the central Berlin train station, drew out the last syllable of the word and it reverberated in Rex Denver’s chest like an omen. He coughed as if to dislodge it from his throat.
“Dreadworm? You mean the hacking group?”
“Only they can break into the CIA’s computer system.” The man drew the hood of his gray sweatshirt more tightly around his face with a pair of gloved hands. “Rumor has it they’ve already been successful.”
Denver had a side view only, but he didn’t care. The identity of the informant held no interest for him, but his words acted like an electric prod.
“You’re sure the CIA is behind this setup? In league with an international band of terrorists?” Denver’s gut roiled and tumbled, bitter bile clawing its way up his throat.
“The entire Central Intelligence Agency?” The man jerked his head from side to side, his hood moving with it. “No, but forces within that agency…and others…are actively working against US interests and that means holding the government hostage with the threat of some kind of terrorist attack.”
Denver swore and spit the sour taste in his mouth onto the train tracks. “Why are you telling me this? Reaching out to me in this secretive way?”
“Call me a concerned citizen.”
Denver snorted. “Most concerned citizens don’t risk their lives and livelihood on what could be a conspiracy hoax.”
“Was the attack on you, your Delta Force teammate and that army ranger a hoax? Is the campaign to discredit you and label you a traitor a hoax?”
“Hell, no. That’s real.”
“So is this.”
“Why not go to the director? I’m just gonna assume here that you’re CIA.”
“Don’t assume anything, Major Denver. I have no solid proof that this is happening.” The informant lifted a pair of narrow shoulders. “And I don’t know whom to trust.”
“The director?” A cold chill seeped into Denver’s bones and it had nothing to do with the empty tracks he was straddling in the dank tunnel, his hand flattened against the damp wall.
“It could be anyone. That’s why you need Dreadworm. They can cross all boundaries. They have crossed all boundaries.”
“Their leader, Olaf, is in hiding.”
“So are you, Major Denver. Tell me. How did you get from Afghanistan to the streets of Berlin without showing up on anyone’s radar?”
“You know that thing you said about trust?” Denver shoved his cold hands into his pockets. “Right about now, I trust no one—except my Delta Force team.”
“That’s wise. They’re the only ones who have been actively working to clear your name…and they’re getting close.” The man stepped back against the wall as the tracks beneath them vibrated. “You don’t have to explain—dark-haired man with a beard slipping across borders with the other refugees. Who would stop to think the mass of people contained an American Delta Force soldier?”
Denver didn’t plan to reveal his secrets to anyone—not even a shadow in the night with his own secrets. “I know someone who works with Dreadworm.”
“Then I suggest you start pulling in favors, major.”
The informant stepped forward, and Denver jerked back, gripping the weapon in his pocket.
“Stay where you are.”
“Your contacts at Dreadworm might be interested in this.” He held up a cardboard wheel in his gloved hand. “Go ahead. Take it.”
Denver snatched the circular object and shoved it into his pocket. “I should pass this on to Dreadworm?”
“That would be advisable.” The informant pulled the collar of his jacket close around his neck. “Because Dreadworm is your only hope right now. Dreadworm is our only hope—I never thought I’d hear myself say those words.”
“Wait.” Denver peered into the blackness, as the man stepped back. “How am I going to contact you again?”
“I’ll find you when I need to.” He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the tunnel. “After all, we need to save the world.”
A light appeared at the end of the tunnel, outlining the slim figure hugging the wall, and Denver prayed it was a metaphor for his current situation. Could Dreadworm really be the light at the end of his tunnel?
The shrill train whistle made his teeth ache. Denver climbed off the tracks, his head cranked over his shoulder, his eyeballs throbbing with the effort to pick out his informant, still on the tracks in the path of the oncoming train.
Denver shouted. “Get out of the way!”
The light from the train flooded the tunnel, the empty tunnel, and as Denver stepped back onto the platform, the train whooshed past him, lifting the ends of his long hair and shaking the buttons on his shirt.
His informant had melted away, but his words rang in Denver’s ears.
Pulling his watch cap over those ears and hunching his shoulders, Denver put his head down and made for the stairs.
He had to get word to Gray Prescott to make contact with his ex-girlfriend. Things had ended badly between Gray and his ex, but Gray would have to suck it up and make nice with the hacker with the chip on her shoulder—she just might hold the fate of the world in her hands.

Chapter One (#udd91938a-3a8b-5848-8720-801a1eaf13f8)
Jerrica turned her head and sucked in a quick breath as the man behind her ducked into a doorway. She hitched her backpack over her shoulders and darted into the street.
A taxi blared at her, and she smacked her hand on its hood, yelling. “Watch where you’re goin’!”
She crouched behind another taxi, the heat from the exhaust pipe burning her leg as the car lurched forward.
For a half a block, she stayed in the middle of the street, navigating a straight path between two lines of cars. Drivers yelled at her from their windows, the obscenities pinging her coat of armor but never piercing it. What did she care about a few dirty words tossed her way? She’d endured worse—a lot worse.
She twirled around and negotiated the traffic while walking backward, keeping her gaze pinned to the surging crowd on the sidewalk, trying to pick out her tail.
She’d lost him. Damn, she’d gotten good at losing people.
She threaded her way through the cars back to the sidewalk and slipped down a small alley. Two doors down, she formed a fist and banged on the metal. She had the access card that would gain her entry, but she knew Amit would be working away and she preferred not to surprise him by slipping in unannounced.
He really needed to adjust his schedule every once in a while—predictability could be dangerous in their line of work.
A lock clicked from the inside, and Jerrica eased open the door just widely enough to insert her body through the space. She placed both hands against the cold surface to make sure the door closed with a snap. Then she glanced at the video display above the door—the alley remained empty.
Her heavy boots clomped on the stairs as she made her way up to the work area.
Amit looked up from his computer monitor, adjusting his glasses. “I thought you were coming in earlier.”
Jerrica swung her pack from her back and settled into a chair in front of a scrolling display of numbers and letters. “Did Dreadworm turn into a nine-to-five gig while I was busy programming?”
“Don’t bite my head off.” Amit ducked behind his screen. “I was just asking.”
“I think I was being followed.” She held her breath, waiting for Amit’s outburst.
He sniffed and wiped his nose with a tissue. “What else is new?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She leveled a finger at the crumpled tissue in his hand. “Do not leave that thing lying around. Nobody wants your germs…or your judgment.”
“I’m not sick. I have allergies.”
“Whatever. I’m getting tired of picking them up.”
“All right. All right.” Amit stuffed the thing into his front pocket.
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t answer me. You’re not worried that someone was on my tail?”
“You think someone was on your tail. When is someone not on your tail, Jerrica? Or trying to hack into your computer? Or peeping in your window at night?”
Blinking her lashes, she cocked her head. “They caught onto Olaf, didn’t they? Do you want to go into hiding like him? I don’t.”
Amit slumped in his chair and pushed his glasses to the top of his head, making his hair stick up. “What did you uncover last week that has you looking over your shoulder again?”
“I’m not ready to reveal it yet.” She double-clicked on the screen to stop the scrolling and entered another command.
“You don’t have to reveal it publicly, but you can tell me, Kiera and Cedar in the other office.” He circled his index finger in the air. “We work together. We’re coworkers, remember?”
“Coworkers?” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “We’re hackers. Olaf always wanted us to work on our own stuff. That’s why the two of us are here and Kiera and Cedar are…somewhere else. I’ll reveal it when I’m ready.”
Amit shook his head and attacked his keyboard. “You and Olaf are two of a kind. Do you know where he is?”
“Why would he tell me? Why would he tell anyone? It’s safer to keep to yourself.” She turned away and stashed her backpack under her desk.
“It might be safer, Jerrica, but there’s more to life than safety.” His long fingers hovered over the keyboard. “You wanna go to a party tonight with me and Kelly?”
“I have work to do.” She batted her lashes at him. “And, as you so kindly pointed out, I came in late.”
“I’m going to take off in about two hours. Are you sure you want to stay here by yourself?”
“I thought you weren’t concerned about safety? You were here by yourself.” She wiggled her fingers above the keys. “Besides, this is one of the most secure places in Manhattan—cameras, locks, motion sensors. I’m good.”
“The person supposedly following you didn’t see you come into this building, did he?”
“There was no supposedly about it, but no, he didn’t follow me here. I lost him.” She wrinkled her nose. “I gotta get back to what I was working on.”
“I can take a hint.”
The steady clicking from Amit’s keyboard indicated a dogged determination and concerted commitment. Amit might pretend that it was Jerrica who was the obsessed one, but the fire blazed in his gut just as hotly as it did in hers.
They each had their own reasons for their dedication to hacking into government systems and exposing the lies and corruption. Amit just did a better job of functioning in society.
She’d had a life once. She’d even had a boyfriend. Her nose stung and she swiped it with the back of her hand.
As if that was ever gonna work out.
After a few hours of companionable tapping, Amit pushed his chair away from the desk and reached both arms up to the ceiling that was crisscrossed with pipes. “I’m calling it a night. You sure you don’t want to hit that party with me and Kelly?”
“I’m on a trail, so close.” She grabbed the bottle of water she’d pulled out of her backpack earlier and chugged some. “But say hi to Kelly for me.”
“Yeah, yeah. She’s gonna give me hell for leaving you here by yourself.”
Jerrica choked on her next sip of water. “She doesn’t know we’re Dreadworm, does she?”
“Who do you think I am?” Amit yanked a flash drive out of the computer. “You?”
“That’s not fair.” She wound her hair around her hand and tossed it over her shoulder. “I didn’t tell anyone anything. He figured it out.”
“Yeah, the last person who needs to know about Dreadworm—someone in the military.”
Jerrica’s cheeks blazed and she pressed the water bottle against her face. “Maybe that’s why he was able to figure it out. He was Special Forces…is Special Forces.”
Amit crammed some personal items into his bag. “And he never told anyone?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Dude must’ve been crazy about you to keep that to himself.”
“Crazy about me?” Jerrica snorted. “Yeah, so crazy about me he dumped me.”
“Kinda hard for a guy in Delta Force to hang with someone who’s trying to expose all the secrets of the federal government.” Amit slipped his bag’s strap across his body. “Dumping you is the least he could’ve done. It could’ve been a lot worse.”
Jerrica pressed a hand over her heart and the dull ache centered there. “Don’t you have a party to go to?”
“Outta here.” Amit saluted and then tapped the monitor of the desktop computer. “Leave this running, please. I’m looking for some files connected to the attack on the embassy outpost in Nigeria. I know we didn’t get the full story on that one, and I programmed a little worm that’s chewing through some data right now.”
She eyed the flickering display on Amit’s computer. “See you later.”
When the metal door downstairs slammed behind him, she shifted her gaze to the TV monitors to make sure nobody slipped into the building before the door closed.
Could she help it if paranoia sat beside her and whispered in her ear day and night? She’d been raised on conspiracy theories—and so far nothing in her life had belied that upbringing, nothing had stilled those dark undercurrents that bubbled beneath the surface of every encounter she had—even the most personal ones.
Amit disappeared from the security cam and Jerrica jumped from her chair and hunched over Amit’s, folding her arms across the back and studying the data marching across the display. The attack on the embassy outpost in Nigeria had been on her radar, too. And not only because it involved someone she knew, peripherally, anyway.
Delta Force Major Rex Denver had played a significant role in the Nigeria debacle, as he’d visited the outpost days before the attack. He’d also, allegedly, played a role in the bombing at the Syrian refugee center, although the witnesses in Syria had been walking back that narrative for a few months now.
She drummed her fingers against her chin. And Denver’s name had come up again as she scurried down the rabbit hole of her current hunch—or maybe she’d been scurrying down a mole hole, if moles even burrowed into holes. Because she’d bet all the settlement money sitting in her bank account that the intel she’d been tracking was going to lead to a mole—possibly in the CIA itself.
Rubbing her hands together, she returned to her own chair and continued inputting data to dig deeper into the CIA system she’d already compromised.
After a few hours of work, she rubbed her eyes and took a swig of water. As she watched her screen, a blurry message popped up in the lower-left corner of her display.
She blinked and the words came into focus. She read them aloud to the room where all sounds of human intercourse had been replaced by the whirs and clicks of computer interaction. “Who are you?”
She huffed out a breath and growled. “You show me yours first, buddy.”
So, someone at the other end had detected an intruder. She entered her reply, whispering the words as she typed them.
Who are you?
Not terribly clever, but she had no intention of showing her hand. She fastened her gaze on the blinking cursor, waiting for the response.
Her eyeballs dried up watching that cursor, so she set the program’s command to keep running in her absence, just as Amit had done on his computer. If Amit came back to the Dreadworm offices, he would know to leave the program running, but just in case, she plastered a sticky note to her screen before packing up for the night.
Jerrica scanned the video feed showing the alley while she scooped up her backpack and hitched it over one shoulder. She swept up her black fedora, which she’d left here the other night, and clapped it on her head.
Flipping up the collar of her black leather jacket, she jogged down the steps from the work area. She tipped her head back to check the video from outside and then, pausing at the door, she pressed her ear against the cold metal, not that she could hear anything through it.
She took a final glance at the monitor above the door before easing the door open. She looked both ways up and down the alley. She shimmied through the space, the zipper and metal studs on her jacket scraping against the doorjamb, and pulled the heavy slab of metal shut behind her.
This alley had just a few doorways and a couple of fire escapes, so it didn’t attract much traffic. Olaf, Dreadworm’s founder, had searched high and low in Manhattan to find just the right locations, and then had secured those locations—but he hadn’t been able to secure himself.
Someone outed him and his residence and he’d had to go on the run or face federal prosecution. She didn’t want to be criminally charged, but she couldn’t give up this job…mission…especially now that she’d hacked into the CIA databases.
She emerged from the alley onto the crowded sidewalk and joined the surge of people. Darkness hadn’t descended yet on this cool spring evening. Summer with its heat and humidity waited right around the corner, and Jerrica wanted to soak up the last bits of May with its hint of freshness still on the cusp of the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled, getting a lungful of exhaust fumes and some guy’s over-ambitious aftershave.
She headed underground to catch the subway to her neighborhood. Just as she plopped down in her seat, an old man with a cane scraping beside him shuffled onto the train.
Jerrica’s gaze swept the other passengers in the car, their heads buried in their phones, earbuds shoved in their ears, noses dipped into tablets, reading devices and portable game consoles. Nobody budged, nobody stirred from the online, electronic worlds sucking up their attention and their humanity.
Jerrica hoisted her backpack from her lap and pushed up from her seat. She tapped the old man’s arm and pointed to the empty spot.
He nodded and smiled, the light reaching his faded blue eyes.
The train lurched around a bend, and Jerrica grabbed the bar above her head, swaying with the motion of the car. Maybe she should’ve accepted Amit’s invitation to the party. She didn’t even have her cat to greet her at home. Puck had disappeared last month without a trace just as seamlessly as he’d entered her realm. Even cats had a way of passing through her life, perhaps recognizing her rootless existence and most likely identifying with it.
With both of her hands holding on for dear life, she shook her hair from her face. Yeah, she definitely needed to get out and socialize. She’d call Amit once she got home and had some dinner and put on her best party face.
The train rumbled into her station and she jumped off. She emerged into the fresh air but hung back at the top of the steps.
If someone had been following her this afternoon, they must’ve picked up her trail around here—her neighborhood, her subway stop. No way someone just started tracking her in the middle of Manhattan. She took a different route to Dreadworm every time she went there. This place, this neighborhood, comprised her only constants.
She zeroed in on a few faces, attuned to sudden stops, starts and reversals. She moved forward by putting one foot in front of the other because she had to start somewhere. Sometimes the fear and uncertainty paralyzed her.
She ducked into her favorite noodle shop and ordered a spicy vegetarian pho with tofu, inhaling the aroma of the rich broth while she waited for her order.
Kevin, the shop’s owner, placed the bag in her hands. “Special for Jerrica. You find your cat yet?”
“No, I’m afraid he’s gone for good, Kevin.”
“I look out for him.” He tapped his cheekbone beneath his eye with the tip of his finger. “Cats come and go.”
So did people.
“If you do see Puck, give him some chicken and call me.” She waved as she shoved through the door, sending the little bell into a frenzy.
She loped to her apartment, her pack bouncing against her back and the plastic bag containing the soup swinging from her fingertips. She could’ve afforded fancier digs, but this neighborhood on the Lower East Side suited her—and she’d found a secure building without a nosy doorman watching her comings and goings.
She made it up to her apartment, got through the triple locks and shut the door behind her. Her gaze flicked about the room, and a shot of adrenaline lanced her system.
She dropped her dinner, plunged her hand into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out her .22.
“Get out here with your hands up or I swear to God I’ll shoot you through the bathroom wall.”
The door to the bathroom inched open and a pair of hands poked through the opening, fingers wiggling. “Don’t shoot. I even brought a bottle of wine.”
Jerrica lowered her weapon with unsteady hands and closed her eyes as she braced one hand against the wall.
Just like that, Gray Prescott had slipped past her best defenses…like he always did.

Chapter Two (#udd91938a-3a8b-5848-8720-801a1eaf13f8)
Heavy breathing came at him from the other room, but he ducked his head anyway. He never could tell about Jerrica West. The woman didn’t play by any rules.
Leaning back, he stuck one leg out the door. If she started shooting, he’d rather she take out a kneecap than his eyeball. “It’s me, Gray… Gray Prescott.”
For all he knew Jerrica could’ve wiped him from that databank she called a brain. When he’d ended their relationship over her hacking, she hadn’t even blinked an eye as she showed him the door.
“I’m unarmed, and I need to talk to you, Jerrica.”
A clunk resounded down the hallway. “C’mon out. I won’t shoot…yet.”
He poked his head out the bathroom door and whistled through his teeth. “I guess that was stupid to be in the bathroom when you came home, but I was washing my hands. I didn’t know what time to expect you since I remembered you work late.”
As he rambled on, he approached Jerrica as if stalking a wildcat. Her green eyes narrowed as he got closer, her heavy, black boots planted on the floor in a shooter’s stance. He’d taught her that.
“What are you doing here and how the hell did you get in?” Her gaze flicked to the window that he’d left open a crack after climbing through.
“Yeah, well, I did come through that window, but the security for this building is good—better than most.” He’d added that last part because he knew how important safety was for her, and he didn’t want Jerrica freaking out right now.
“We’re on the third floor.” She pushed her black hair out of her eyes. “Oh, that’s right, you’re a hotshot Delta Force soldier able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
“There was a fire escape, a ledge…and…forget it. I’m here now.”
“What are you doing here? You said you wanted to talk—about what?” She crossed her arms over her chest not looking like she wanted to talk at all.
“Can we sit down and get comfortable? I wasn’t kidding about the bottle of wine, and it took a lot of effort to get it up here. I left it in the kitchen.” He pointed to the sofa with colorful pillows strewn across it. “You first.”
“Where are my manners? I guess they went out the window, when you came in the window. It’s not every day someone breaks into my apartment.”
“It’s not like I’m a stranger. I’ve even been to this inner sanctum before.”
“Have a seat, and I’ll get us a glass of wine.” She finally uprooted her feet from the floor, and her heavy boots clomped across the hardwood to the kitchen. She grabbed the bottle of wine by its neck and raised it in the air. “How did you manage to break in here while carrying this bottle of wine?”
He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “You have your secrets and I have mine.”
“You don’t have any secrets Gray. Nobody does.” She jabbed a corkscrew into the cork, twisted and eased it from the bottle. The glasses clinked together as she pulled them out of the cupboard. “You use a computer? The internet? Social media? Buy online? Nothing is sacred. They know all about you.”
“I know. You’ve told me before.” He kicked his feet up onto her coffee table. “And after that cheery reminder, I’m gonna need a glass of wine more than ever.”
She marched back into the living room, cupping a glass of wine in each hand. The ruby-red liquid sloshed with her jerky steps. She held a wine glass out to him. “You always did prefer red, didn’t you?”
His gaze locked onto her lips, the color of the wine in her glass. “Yeah, I always did like red better.”
Her cheeks flushed, matching her lips. She backed away from him and plopped down in the chair across from the sofa, pulling a pillow into her lap with one hand. “Now, what’s so important that you need to scale a three-story building and break into my place, all while carrying a killer bottle of pinot noir?”
“I need your help, Jerrica.” Damn, this was going to be harder than he’d expected. He’d better ease into it. “The kind of help only you can give me.”
She swirled her wine in the glass before taking a sip. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she swished the liquid around in her mouth as if at a wine tasting. “That’s…interesting. What kind of help would that be?”
Gray gulped back a mouthful of wine. She was just trying to make this harder on him. Could he blame her? With a little more liquid courage warming his belly, he said, “You know. That hacking thing you do.”
Her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “What was that? Hacking? You told me that was illegal, immoral and un-American.”
He snorted and the wine he’d just downed came up his nose. “I never said immoral.”
“Whatever.” She flicked her short, unpolished nails in the air, and the tattoo of the bird between her thumb and forefinger took flight—she also had one on her wrist. “The words and the accusations were coming so hot and heavy I couldn’t keep track of them.”
That hadn’t been the only thing hot and heavy between them. He did his best to keep his gaze pinned to her eyes. If they wandered below her chin, he could expect one of those boots planted against his leg.
He spread his hands. “Give me a break, Jerrica. When we first started dating, I thought you were a generic computer programmer. Then you dropped the bombshell that you worked for one of the most notorious hackers out there, Dreadworm.”
“I didn’t drop any bombshell. You went snooping through my stuff.” She rolled her eyes. “You really believed I was using you to get military secrets to post on Dreadworm?”
“Can you blame me?” He jumped up from the sofa and his wine came dangerously close to spilling over the rim. “If you had discovered I’d been lying to you, you would have gone underground and cut off all communications. Your reaction to my suspicion was laughable coming from one of the most paranoid people I know.”
She bent forward at the waist and undid the laces on her right boot, hiding her face and buying time. He knew her well.
She pulled off the boot and got to work on the second one. She looked up, her bangs tangled in her long dark lashes. “You know now I never would’ve done that to you. You should’ve known it then.”
He stopped his pacing to walk toward her, resting a hand on her shoulder, his fingers tangling in her silky hair. He rubbed a lock between his thumb and forefinger. “I knew it then, too, Jerrica. You just took me by surprise.”
She shifted her head away from his touch and the diamond in the side of her nose glinted in the light. “Even if you weren’t Delta Force, even if you didn’t believe that I was using you, you’re not a big fan of hacking, are you?”
“It seems…wrong.” He stepped away from her and went back to his seat. “These are private government systems you’re hacking. In some cases, these are classified systems. Communications not meant for the general public.”
“All government systems should be for the general public.” She tossed back her hair and raised her chin.
Gray took up the challenge. “Not if that exposure is going to result in outing people, putting their lives in danger, compromising their safety.”
“Dreadworm never did that, and if you’d stuck around long enough to let me explain you would’ve known that.”
“Maybe you’re right. I admit I jumped the gun.” He stretched his legs out in front of him. Now he had to get to the rest of his request. He tossed off the last of his wine.
“Looks like you need another.” Jerrica pointed at his empty glass. “Maybe that’ll help you get to the point.”
“That obvious huh?” He pushed to his feet and held his hand out for her glass. “You, too?”
“I think I may need a few more to hear your request.” She scrambled out of the chair and shoved her glass into his hand. “I brought some pho home for my dinner. Do you wanna share it with me? When I dropped the bag, the container even landed upright.”
“Yeah, breaking and entering always makes me hungry.” He took the wine glasses into the kitchen and filled them halfway. As he turned he almost plowed right into Jerrica. He lifted the glasses over her head. “Whoa.”
The bag of food swung from her fingertips. “You’re too big for this kitchen.”
He surveyed the small space. “A jockey would be too big for this kitchen. I thought you were going to move to a bigger place, a safer neighborhood. It’s not like you can’t afford it.”
“I like this place. I feel secure here.”
“I was able to break in.” He set her wine glass on the counter at her elbow.
Nudging him with her hip she said, “You just told me my place was safer than most and it was your mad Delta Force skills that allowed you to break in here.”
“I said safer than most, but you have the money to get into a much better neighborhood than this one with a doorman, twenty-four-hour security, the works. I don’t know why you don’t make the move.” She picked up her glass and he clinked his against hers.
“You know I don’t like using that money. Blood money.” She took a quick sip of wine.
“You must use the money for living expenses, anyway. I can’t imagine Dreadworm pays you the kind of salary to live in a Manhattan apartment without roommates. Didn’t you tell me once that most of the other hackers have day jobs?”
“And didn’t you tell me you came to Manhattan to ask me a favor?” She ladled the pho into two bowls.
As the savory steam rose, his eyes watered and he blinked, his nose already running from the spices. “Did I say it was a favor?”
“If it weren’t a favor, Prescott, we wouldn’t be standing around drinking wine and eating pho together. You’re a man who likes to get to the point. You’ve been doing a lot of waffling.” She slid a bowl closer to him and the tofu bobbed in the liquid like square life preservers.
He stirred the broth, chockful of health, with a spoon. “Figures you got tofu in here.”
“Waffler.” She puckered her lips and slurped up a spoonful.
This time, he allowed his gaze to linger on her mouth. If she wanted to see waffling, he could show her waffling by kissing her.
She wiped her nose with a paper towel, covering the bottom half of her face. “What’s going on with you? What do you want me to do?”
He dropped his spoon in the broth and took a deep breath. “It’s my commander, Major Rex Denver. He’s in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“He’s AWOL, but that’s not the worst of his problems.”
“If going AWOL isn’t the worst, it must be bad.”
“He went AWOL because someone’s trying to set him up.”
Jerrica flinched and her eye twitched.
He hadn’t even thought that Jerrica’s own experience might make her more apt to help him, but here they were. She’d probably accuse him of using her again.
“I know.”
His head jerked up. “You know about Major Denver?”
“Syrian refugee camp? Weapons stash at an embassy outpost in Nigeria? Fake emails?”
“Dreadworm really does know it all.” He hunched forward on his forearms, pushing the bowl of soup aside. “That’s why I’m asking for your help, Jerrica. You already know this info because you guys have access to all kinds of computer systems. We think there’s someone on the inside manipulating data, emails, people to set up Denver and discredit him.”
“Discredit him? Why?”
“Because he was onto something. Our Delta Force team was always operating one level beyond our special ops assignments. Denver was hot on the trail of some terrorist activity and someone was afraid he knew too much…or was on the verge of knowing too much.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “You understand more than anyone the government doesn’t always operate on the up-and-up.”
She withdrew her hand from his and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.
Had he gone too far? He held his breath.
Her cell phone buzzed on the counter where she’d plugged it in to charge.
“Hold that thought.” She raised her index finger.
Hold the thought? His appeal had gotten a better reception than he’d thought it would. He let out a noisy breath and picked up his pho again as she answered the phone.
“What is it? Thought you were at a party.”
He almost spit out the pho he’d just put in his mouth. Did she have a boyfriend now? Just because he hadn’t been able to move on after their breakup didn’t mean she hadn’t found someone to keep her warm at night.
“Wait, wait. Slow down. Who’s following you? Did you get a look at him?”
This time he almost choked on some noodles. Listening in on Jerrica’s phone conversations was proving hazardous to his health.
“Where are you now? Is Kelly with you?” She snapped her fingers at him and pointed to a pen and an envelope on the counter.
Maybe not a boyfriend. He shoved the pen and paper toward her and then went back to his soup, trying to concentrate on avoiding the slimy-looking veggies floating back and forth and to tune out Jerrica’s escalating tone of voice.
“Stay right there. I’m serious. I’m coming.” She glanced up at Gray. “We’re coming.”
He raised his eyebrows and tapped the handle of the spoon against his chest.
Jerrica nodded and ended the call, stuffing the envelope into her back pocket. “You wanted inside information on Denver? Here’s your chance.”
“What’s this all about? Who was on the phone?”
“That was one of my coworkers at Dreadworm.” She downed the rest of her wine. “He thinks he’s being followed.”
“What does that have to do with Denver?”
“Amit was working on delving into some classified correspondence regarding that weapons stash at the embassy outpost in Nigeria.” She grabbed her backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Denver was on that, wasn’t he?”
“He was, and now your coworker is being followed.” Gray cocked his head. “He’s not…like you, is he?”
She wrinkled her nose. “What exactly does that mean?”
“You know, slightly paranoid.”
She punched his shoulder with a right jab that made him flinch. “Get your stuff. We’re meeting him in twenty minutes at a coffeehouse in the Village.”
He grabbed his flannel and rubbed his shoulder. “Can we walk?”
“Subway. I’ll make a New Yorker out of you yet.”
As they raced down the building’s stairs, Gray poked her back. “Why are we running to meet Amit? If you need to talk to him in person, why doesn’t he come here?”
“He’s scared. I could hear it in his voice. That’s the best time to get them talking.”
“Dreadworm shares information with the world. Are you telling me that its employees don’t share with each other?”
“Employees? We’re not really employees.”
She hiked up her pack and strode down the sidewalk of her Lower East Side neighborhood where people still milled around after their dinners and ducked in and out of shops. Gray kept pace with her.
Jerrica made a sharp right turn to head down the stairs to a subway station.
He followed her down and grabbed her arm as she started to push through the turnstile. “I need a Metrocard.”
“Oh, I forgot.” She led him to a machine and he purchased a single ride.
If Jerrica planned to dart around the city dragging him along with her, he’d better get a pass next time. But really, the woman had enough money stashed away to hire a car service. He did, too, but he felt about as disconnected from his money as she did from hers—probably for similar reasons. Neither one of them had earned the money on their own.
The subway swallowed them up and spit them out somewhere on the edge of Greenwich Village.
“Do you know where you’re going? You haven’t looked at the address since you wrote it down in your kitchen.” He lengthened his stride to match her smaller but more numerous steps.
She patted the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s right here if you wanna have a look, but I memorized it.”
His gaze darted to her backside, shapely in her tight jeans, and his knees weakened for a second before he stuffed his hand in his own pocket. “That’s okay. I trust that brain of yours.”
“It’s not much farther. Probably just around the next corner.”
He didn’t even bother asking her how she knew that. He’d accepted her calculating mind. What he couldn’t accept was her guarded heart, but then he’d exceeded her distrustful expectations by dumping her once he’d found out she worked for Dreadworm. She’d fully gotten and relished the irony of his asking for her help, using the same skills he’d lambasted before.
He could live with eating crow—a lot of it—if it meant clearing Denver and getting to the bottom of this terrorist plot.
Jerrica tugged on his sleeve. “This way. You were about to pass it right by.”
He veered to the right, dodging oncoming pedestrians. How could Amit know anyone was following him with all these people coming and going?
“This is it.” Jerrica tipped her chin toward a building with a blue-and-white striped awning over the front door. “I hope he’s still here and didn’t get spooked.”
Gray lunged past her to open the door, and the soft strains of a guitar melody curled around them, drawing them into a dark space where he caught a whiff of roasted coffee beans. He couldn’t drink coffee at this time of night, but the smells took him back to late-night conversations with Jerrica, who seemed to run on the stuff when she was working on a gnarly hacking job for Dreadworm—when he’d believed she was just a programmer dedicated to her clients.
He glanced at her, eyes closed and nostrils flaring, getting a caffeine buzz off the fumes.
Her lids flew open and she scanned the room. “Damn, I don’t see Amit.”
“Do you want to get something and wait?” He gestured toward the counter. “I could go for a chocolate croissant.”
“You go ahead.” She swung her backpack around and dipped into the front zippered pouch, pulling out her phone. “I’m going to text him.”
As Gray joined the line of mostly college students ordering complicated caffeinated concoctions, Jerrica hunched over her phone.
He reached the counter and ordered his croissant and a slice of lemon cake for Jerrica, even though she didn’t know she wanted it yet. He dipped into his pocket for his wallet and twisted around. “Did he…?”
The strange woman behind him folded her arms and looked him up and down, a pair of pencil-thin eyebrows raised above her tortoiseshell glasses.
“Sorry. I thought you were my…friend. Did you see where she went? Black hair, about yea big?” He held his hand just beneath his chin.
She shook her head and went back to her phone.
“Sir, that’s $6.75.” The barista waited, a patient but trained smile on her face.
He handed her a crumpled ten. “Did you see where my friend went?”
“I didn’t notice.” She lifted her shoulders. “Maybe the restroom? They’re around the corner.”
“Thanks.” Gray stepped out of line and waved his hand at the change on the counter, his heart beating an uncomfortable rhythm in his chest that didn’t at all complement the strains of the folk music from the small stage.
He took the corner to the bathrooms at such high speed, he nearly plowed into a woman on crutches.
“I’m sorry.” He pointed to one of the restrooms. “Anyone in there?”
The woman readjusted her crutch under her arm. “It’s all yours. Good thing since you’re in such a big hurry.”
Gray maneuvered past her and tried the other door. “Jerrica?”
A gruff male voice answered him. “Nope.”
Gray poked his head into the other restroom and confirmed what the woman on crutches had told him—empty.
He peered down the short hallway at a back door with a glowing Exit sign above it. Could Jerrica have gone out there to meet Amit?
He strode down the short, dark length of the hallway and pushed against the metal bar. He stepped into the alley, and held his breath against the odor of garbage coming from the overflowing dumpster to his left.
As he huffed the smell from his nose, a scraping, shuffling noise from beyond the dumpster made him cock his head. Adrenaline pumped through his body with a whoosh that left him light-headed…but just for a second.
His body shifted into gear and he launched past the dumpster.
Jerrica’s face appeared to him as a white oval in the darkness for a split second before the lump crouching at her feet took human form, rose and slammed her body against the wall.

Chapter Three (#udd91938a-3a8b-5848-8720-801a1eaf13f8)
The man drove his shoulder into her ribs as he smashed against her, pushing the air from her lungs. Her attention had been distracted by the appearance of Gray in the alley, but she couldn’t wait for him to come to the rescue.
Her gaze shifted to the glint of steel on the ground. At least she’d knocked the knife from his hand when she bashed her fist against his nose.
She sucked in some air, coiled her thigh muscles and kneed her attacker between the legs. She didn’t get as high or as much power as she’d wanted, but her lips twisted into a smile when he grunted.
The grunt turned into a wheeze when Gray materialized behind him and physically and forcibly removed him from her sphere.
Her assailant’s body seemed to fly through the air, and his eyes bugged out of his skull. He yelled an expletive when he landed with a sickening thud, but he had enough strength or determination to extend his fingers toward his knife.
“Gray! The knife!” She panted as she slid down the wall into a crouch, all the strength seeping from her body.
Gray whipped around and stomped on the man’s wrist with his boot.
The guy let out a howl that echoed down the alleyway and some shouting answered from the street on one end.
Gray scooped up the knife and turned his back to the broken man writhing on the ground. He kneeled in front of her. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No. No police or ambulance.” She clutched at Gray’s shirt with both hands. “He’s getting away. Don’t let him get away. He has Amit.”
He cupped her sore face with one hand. “I’m not leaving you in this alley by yourself. He might have an accomplice.”
She struggled to stand as her attacker staggered to his feet and limped off at a surprising clip, holding his arm.
“Is there a problem? What’s going on?” Two men peered over Gray’s shoulder, and he slipped the switchblade into his pocket.
“That guy was assaulting this woman.” Gray jerked his thumb over his shoulder, but her attacker had already made it out of the alley and had turned the corner. “Now get lost.”
The men immediately drew back in unison and muttered to each other as they took a hike.
Gray helped her to her feet. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can take you to the emergency room and you can tell them you had a fall. You’re good at covering up.”
She hopped up on one foot, hanging onto his shirt. “I’m not okay. You just let the guy who was following Amit and attacked me escape. He has Amit and we let him walk away.”
“He was limping away and how do you know he has Amit?” He rubbed her arms, brushing the dirt from her jacket.
“He texted me from Amit’s phone. How do you think I wound up out here?” She gestured with her arm and winced.
“What I’m wondering is why the hell you scurried out to a dark alley based on a text without telling me.” He ran his fingers through the hair hanging over her shoulder. “Dirt.”
“I did tell you I was going outside. I guess you didn’t hear me because you were so focused on ordering your chocolate croissant.” She started toward the street, pressing one hand against her midsection.
“Where are you going and where are you injured?”
She leveled a finger at the street, teeming with traffic just beyond the alley. “I’m gonna look for the guy who bruised my ribs.”
“You’re not going to find him now, Jerrica.” He patted the pocket of his shirt. “But I have his fingerprints. He wasn’t wearing gloves.”
She stopped and leaned against Gray’s shoulder. “You’re right. I’m not going to find him out there.”
His arm came around her, and she put more pressure against his body, soaking in his warmth and power.
He squeezed her and his voice roughened as he said, “He had that knife. How’d you get out of it? When I got here, you had the upper hand.”
“My senses were already on high alert. When I saw him out here instead of Amit, I knew something was wrong, so when he came at me I was ready. All those years of martial arts paid off. I gave him a quick shot to the face, and it startled him into dropping the knife.”
Gray kissed the side of her head. “Ever think of trying out for Delta Force?”
She closed her eyes for a few seconds just to inhale the scent of him, all that clean masculinity making her feel soft and protected—even though she’d just kicked some guy’s ass—almost. Feeling soft and protected was a dangerous place to be. The last time she felt soft and protected, her whole world had blown up.
She stepped back and shook her head. “They’d never have me.”
“Let’s go back inside. There’s a slice of lemon loaf in there with your name on it.”
He tugged on her arm and she went willingly, even though she couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder.
She asked, “What do you think he did with Amit and why?”
Gray opened the back door of the coffeehouse and ushered her inside, the smell of coffee replacing the stench of garbage and fear that permeated the alley.
“I don’t know. What did he want with you? Did he say anything? Was he trying to get you to go with him or was he trying to…kill you?”
“I’m not sure.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder. “I didn’t stop to ask him.”
Gray seated her at a table, and keeping one eye on her, he retrieved two plates from the counter. He slipped the piece of lemon cake in front of her. “Eat.”
She sawed off a corner. “This all has something to do with Amit looking into that arms stash in Nigeria. I’m sure of it.”
“Which means it probably has to do with Major Denver. But why come after you?”
“Maybe because Amit called me, so they had my number. Maybe Amit didn’t give them anything, and they thought they’d try me. They’d want to stop whatever hacking Amit is doing into that system.”
“Stop how?”
“Get into Dreadworm’s space and shut it all down. If the government is behind this, they’ve been wanting to shut down Dreadworm for years.” She popped the bite of cake into her mouth and the taste of the sweet, tart lemon on her tongue almost erased the ashes left there by the conversation.
Had Amit divulged Dreadworm’s location? If so, she’d have to mobilize Olaf’s army to back up all the programs and data and physically move the computers before they were destroyed.
“Why don’t you call Amit again—just for fun. Let’s see what happens.”
Jerrica caught a crumb of lemon cake from the corner of her mouth with her tongue and pulled out her phone. She scrolled to her recent calls and tapped Amit’s name. Her stomach churned as she listened to the ringing on the other end. “No voice mail coming up. They must’ve turned off his phone. Do you think…?”
“No.” Gray dabbed a flake of chocolate from his plate and sucked it off his finger. “They can’t get anything out of a dead man.”
“They can make him stop what he’s doing. If they know he hacked into this classified system, Amit’s death ensures that stops immediately.”
“But it doesn’t, does it?” Gray planted his elbows on the table on either side of his half-eaten croissant. “If he wrote a program to get into this secret database, that’s going to keep running whether or not Amit is there to monitor it. Am I wrong?”
“You surprise me, Gray Prescott.” She hunched forward and rubbed her thumb across a chocolate smudge on his chin. “You really were listening to me.”
“I always listened to what you had to say, Jerrica. You’re one of the most fascinating people I know. Why wouldn’t I?” He placed the tip of his finger against his chin where she’d just cleaned it off.
“Because you hated everything I did, everything it implied.”
“Hate?” He rubbed his knuckles against his jaw. “That’s a strong word. I didn’t believe what you were doing was right…or necessary.”
“And now?” She folded her hands, prim as a schoolgirl, waiting for her absolution.
“I’m still not sure it’s right, but it sure as hell is necessary. If people within the government are actively working against the interests of the US, those people need to be outed and stopped. Dreadworm can do that.”
“It’s worse than that, Gray, and you know it. These moles in our government aren’t just working against us, they’re working with terrorists to kill our fellow citizens. It’s happening. We have all the pieces. Major Denver has all the pieces. We just need to fit them together to discover the who, what and when.” She swiped a napkin across her mouth and crumpled it in her fist. “And we need to save Amit.”
“Amit’s going to have to save himself. Does Dreadworm have some sort of protocol in place that tells you what to do if one of you is…captured like this?”
“For communicating, but nothing for an abduction.” She tossed the mangled napkin onto her plate. “You know Olaf went into hiding when he felt the snare tightening.”
“It was worldwide news. Of course, I know.” He reached across the table and entwined his fingers with hers. “When I heard that, all I could think of was you and your safety, and now here I am contributing to the danger.”
Her heart fluttered when Gray said things like that to her, but pretty words didn’t mean much. She hadn’t been able to count on him before. He’d bolted once and he might do so again when he got what he wanted from her. It might be even worse this time if he felt guilty over his complicity in hacking into secure systems, but this time those systems belonged to rogue government employees, not the good guys as Gray had assumed.
Just because his family was so plugged into government service didn’t mean all those nameless, faceless bureaucrats roaming the halls of Washington had the best interests of this country as their number one priority…or as any priority.
She disentangled her fingers from his. “You’re not endangering me. I was onto this conspiracy before you arrived in New York, although I have to admit the data I stumbled on piqued my curiosity even more when I realized the person at the center of this swirling controversy was none other than your commander, Major Denver.”
Gray cocked his head to the side. “You surprise me, Jerrica West.”
“Why?” She slid her hands from the table and tucked them between her bouncing knees. Had she revealed how crazy attracted she still was to him?
“You remembered my Delta Force commander’s name. I guess you were listening to me.” He brushed his fingers together over his plate, a smug little smile playing about his lips.
Listening? She’d hung on to every word out of his mouth, never quite believing he was truly hers or would stick around. And she’d been right.
“You had some interesting stories, yourself.”
“I thought…” He shrugged his broad shoulders, and a tide of color rushed into his face.
She narrowed her eyes. “You thought what?”
“Once I learned about your line of work, I thought your interest in me had more to do with what I could reveal about our defense than me personally.” He thumped his fist against his chest.
“You said something like that before and it’s idiotic.” She grabbed her purse and shot up from her chair. “Let’s go.”
He followed her toward the door so closely she could feel his warm breath stirring her hair. For a good-looking guy, Gray had a surprising number of insecurities. His well-connected family had mega bucks, and she’d figured it always had him wondering if women wanted him or his family’s wealth and connections.
With her own stash of cash in the bank from the settlement and the modest way she lived, he’d never been able to accuse her of going for the gold, so he’d made up another reason that she’d be interested in him.
She tossed her head and flicked her gaze at the many women tracking his progress out of the coffeehouse. Did the man have a mirror?
When they hit the sidewalk, she took his arm. “I’m worried about Amit. We have to find him before they hurt him.”
“Or break him.”
“That’s not going to happen.” She pulled him toward the subway station. “Olaf’s army is loyal. We don’t break.”
“You may not break under the gentle, monitored, legal questioning of the government, but that’s not what we’re dealing with here. If these are government agents, they’re not your mother’s government agents.”
She tripped to a stop at the top of the stairs leading to the platform. “Your mother’s, maybe. They’re exactly my mother’s and my father’s.”
As she trotted downstairs, tears blurred her eyes and Gray put a steadying hand on her back.
He ducked his head to hers. “Sorry. Stupid thing to say.”
When they boarded the train, she gripped the pole and swayed toward him as the car moved forward, her eyes locking onto his dark blue ones.
She shuffled closer to Gray, almost whispering in his ear. “Amit’s in danger, isn’t he?”
“You’re both in danger.”
“I have to tell Olaf. Maybe we should go to the Dreadworm offices now.” She chewed on her bottom lip, all the sweetness of the lemon cake gone.
“And get followed? Not a good idea.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Stop doing that. You’ll make it bleed.”
“You’re right. Now is not the time to go running off to Dreadworm. That’s what they’d expect.” She slid a gaze to the side. “Someone could be on our tail now.”
The train squealed as it rolled into their stop and the force threw her against Gray’s chest. She rested there for a few seconds, long enough for Gray to balance his chin on top of her head.
“We’ll figure this out. We’ll find Amit.”
As she pulled away from him, strands of her hair clung to the scruff on his jaw, connecting them for seconds longer, seconds she needed to collect herself.
They hustled down the sidewalk, shoulders bumping, and she’d never felt so safe—except for the last time Gray had been with her in New York—before he found out what she did.
When they reached her building, one of the other residents pushed through the door and held it open for them, nodding at Jerrica. She gave him a hard stare.
The door closed behind them and Gray watched her curiously. “You don’t know him?”
“I do, but he’s never seen you before in his life. How’d he know you were with me?”
Gray raised his hand clasping hers. “Maybe this is a hint.”
“You never know. I could be your captive.” She studied Gray’s face, but he didn’t even roll one eye. That attack had scared him as much as it had her.
They clumped up the stairs, their boots filling the staircase with noise. Jerrica placed her hand against her door and turned the first lock.
She froze as icy fingers played up her spine. Then she hissed between her teeth. “Someone’s been here.”

Chapter Four (#udd91938a-3a8b-5848-8720-801a1eaf13f8)
Gray’s muscles tensed and he stepped between Jerrica and the door. He bent his head to hers, his lips brushing her ear. “How do you know?”
“This lock.” She circled a piece of tarnished metal with her fingertip. “It locks from the outside with a key. I locked it when we left, and now it’s not locked. The other two lock automatically when the door closes.”
“Unlock the rest and stand back.” He hovered over her shoulder as she shoved her key into two more locks, clicking them open.
Earlier, he’d taken one look at that line of locks on Jerrica’s door and figured he’d have better luck coming through the window. Had someone else come to the same conclusion and then left through the front door?
Or was that someone else still waiting inside?
As he pushed into the room, he clutched the gun in his pocket and tensed his muscles. A breeze ruffled the curtains at the window—the same window he used earlier.
“You didn’t leave a window open a slice, did you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Stay back.” Nobody had jumped out at them or appeared with guns blazing, but that didn’t seem to be their style. The guy in the alley had had an opportunity to stab Jerrica when she first went out there, but he’d wanted something else.
He pulled the gun from his pocket and followed it into the room, raking his gaze from side to side. Jerrica’s possessions, in place and undisturbed, belied the presence of an intruder.
Tipping back his head, he scanned the loft. From his vantage point, nobody had disturbed Jerrica’s neat space. If it weren’t for that lock and the window open a crack, they’d have no reason to believe anyone had compromised her apartment.
Together, they walked into the guest bedroom downstairs and Gray checked the closet and the bathroom.
Jerrica gasped and his finger tightened on the trigger.
“My laptop’s upstairs.”
Lunging after her, he reached out to grab her but she twisted away from him and stomped up the rest of the stairs. He had no choice but to follow her, his panic causing him to pant.
As Jerrica dove for the laptop on the nightstand, Gray threw open the closet doors. The mostly dark-colored clothes shimmied on their hangers. His hands plowed through the materials, skimming leather and denim and soft cotton, but no intruders crouched in the recesses of the closet.
He took a step back and bumped into the foot of Jerrica’s bed where she was sitting cross-legged, hunched over her computer.
“They didn’t take your laptop? That’s weird.” His eyes darted around the neat, bare room, as impersonal as a jail cell, and he took a deep breath. “Are you sure someone broke in?”
She raised her gaze from the laptop and her green eyes narrowed. “I knew right away. I always secure that lock. They underestimated me if they thought I wouldn’t notice that, the window…or other things.”
“Such as?” Again, his gaze wandered around the spare room.
“I can’t explain it to you—it’s the placement of a book, the angle of a cushion. They didn’t want to leave a mess. Didn’t want me to think they’d been here.” She dug her fingers into her black hair, and pulled it back from her face with one hand. “That’s why they left my laptop.”
“If they didn’t take anything and didn’t want to scare you by tossing your place, then what?”
She flicked her fingers at the computer. “They’re going to track me through this.”
Gray’s heart jumped. “How would they do that? Can they do that?”
“Keystrokes.”
“You lost me, just like you always do with this stuff.” He sank to the bed and an unexpected flash of desire scorched his flesh as he remembered the last time they’d been on this bed, in this room.
Jerrica gave no sign that the memory had crept into her databank. She ducked her head, her straight hair creating a curtain around her face as her fingers flew across the keys.
“The intruders probably loaded a program on my laptop that’s going to send anything I do straight to them—anything I look up, any emails, any programs I run. That’s what I’d do. It’ll be like they’re looking over my shoulder while I work.”
“You think you can find it?”
She peeked at him through the strands of her hair and snorted, causing the black curtain to flutter about her face. “No problem.”
As Jerrica sank farther into the zone, Gray slid from the bed and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to head downstairs and see about securing that window so nobody, including me, can get into your place that way again.”
Jerrica murmured without looking up.
He’d been in this situation with her before and knew better than to disturb her.
Jogging downstairs, he skimmed his hand along the bannister and jumped off the last step. He curled his fingers under the window and shoved it open the rest of the way. He leaned out, looking down into the street from the third-floor drop.
The tree abutting the building offered wily climbers, like him, access to the ledge running along the side of the apartment building. He couldn’t get rid of the tree, but he could do something about the ledge and the window itself.
He pivoted away from the window and into the kitchen. He threw open a few cupboard doors until he found a bottle of olive oil. Too bad Jerrica didn’t have cooking spray, but he didn’t expect to find anything that unnatural in her kitchen.
He unscrewed the lid of the bottle as he walked back to the window and then drizzled the contents along the ledge below. A slick surface wouldn’t allow someone the grip he needed to hang onto the side of the building. He set the empty bottle on the counter and tipped back his head, calling up to the loft.
“Do you have a hammer and some nails?” He had to yell twice before Jerrica emerged from her fog.
“What?”
“Hammer and nails? Where do you keep your tools…if you have any?”
“Toolbox on the floor of the front closet. Why? Never mind. Carry on.”
Crouching before the closet, he clawed through the coats and scarves hanging to the floor and wrapped his fingers around the handle of a metal toolbox. He dragged it out and flipped open the lid.
Jerrica kept the toolbox as neat as everything else in her life—every nut and bolt had its place. He messed them up before selecting several long nails and a hammer, wrapping his fingers around the black rubber encasing the handle.
He returned to the window and nailed it shut. As he tapped the final nail into place, Jerrica appeared behind him, her hands on her slim hips.
He met her gaze in the window’s reflection.
“You just nailed my window shut.”
“That’s right. Nobody can get through it.”
She reached over his arm and traced a nailhead with her fingertip. “Someone could smash it.”
“And crawl through jagged glass? I don’t think so.” He turned to face her and they stood chest to chest, neither of them moving or pulling away. “Besides, I poured oil on the ledge. Nobody is going to be able to hang on it or stand outside the window long enough to be able to break it or cut it.”
Her eyes widened and he got the full effect of those green orbs. “You poured oil on the outside of my building? What is this, 1066 and you’re defending the castle?”
“It wasn’t hot oil. It’s an effective method—as long as it doesn’t rain several days in a row.” He pulled on his earlobe. “Your building manager isn’t going to suddenly power wash the building, is he?”
“Did you actually get a look at my building while you were scaling it? I don’t think it’s been washed in a hundred years. Wait. What kind of oil?” She spun around, her black hair lashing his cheek.
He rested his hand on her shoulder as he pointed to the bottle on the counter. “Olive oil.”
“Are you securing my building or making hummus?”
“Hummus?” He sniffed. “Why would I make hummus? It’s the only oil I could get my hands on. If you were a normal person, you’d have some cooking spray on hand. That would’ve been a lot easier to use.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Cooking spray has chemicals you don’t want anywhere near your food.”
“I’m sure it does.” He raised his hands. “Don’t ruin cooking spray for me like you ruined red meat.”
“Does that mean you gave it up?” Turning her head, she raised one hopeful eyebrow.
“Not quite. I just try not to think about you while I’m ripping into a juicy steak.” He snapped his mouth shut and sealed his lips. Had he just admitted to her that he thought about her? A lot?
She shifted away from him and reached for the empty bottle. “I guess I’ll have to put olive oil on my grocery list.”
He cleared his throat. “Did you get done what you needed to get done up there? Did you find the bug or the program or whatever?”
“I did not. Nothing was loaded on my computer.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “Maybe they weren’t smart enough to do something like that.”
Gray methodically surveyed the small, neat space—not a cushion was out of place. “What did they do here, then?”
Shrugging, Jerrica splayed her hands in front of her. “I don’t know. I would think they’d want to hit my laptop. They want to know what we know—or what we’re going to discover. But they couldn’t break into it and didn’t want to take it and alert me.”
A knot formed in the pit of Gray’s stomach as his eyes darted around the room. Maybe the intruder didn’t take anything. Maybe he left something behind.
“Gray.” Jerrica grabbed his arm. “What are we going to do about Amit?”
His gaze shifted to Jerrica’s face, her forehead creased and her mouth turned down. His fingers itched to smooth the lines from her face, to turn up her lips. “Unless you want to call the police, there’s not much we can do right now. Do you have his girlfriend’s number?”
Her frown deepened. “No. I wish she would call me. Maybe we could get some info out of her. Maybe she saw someone or something.”
“Would she call the police if she doesn’t hear from Amit?”
“I’m not sure. He lives…”
Gray put two fingers against her lips and shook his head.
Her eyes got round but her mouth tightened with understanding. She grabbed his hand. “It’s late and I’m tired. I’m going to soak in the tub for a bit before I go to bed. Do you want to join me?”
Even though he knew it to be a ruse, his heart thumped at the thought of sharing a tub with Jerrica. “Lead the way.”
She headed for the stairs and he followed her, his gaze dropping to her derriere outlined in a pair of tight black jeans. Jerrica didn’t follow the latest fashions, but her urban guerilla style pushed all his buttons. This time his buttons would remain pushed…no release. The sexual tension coiled in his gut until he gave himself a mental shake when Jerrica pushed open the bathroom door.
Remember why you’re here. What’s at stake.
He slammed the door behind them, and Jerrica hunched over the tub and cranked on the faucets full blast.
“You think that’s enough?” The running water almost drowned out her whisper.
“I think that’ll do it.” He lifted a framed photo of a woman in an old-time swimsuit from the wall, ran his hand along the back of it and around the edges of the frame.
As Jerrica twisted her fingers in front of her, he lifted the lid on the toilet tank and scanned the dry parts. Then he pointed to the mirrored medicine cabinet.
Jerrica swung open the door and studied the inside as if deciding which medicine to take. “I don’t see anything. You?”
“No, but we’re not talking freely outside of this room until I do a search with my cell phone.”
“Your cell phone?”
He plunged his hand into his pocket, pulled out his phone and tapped the display. “I have a program on my phone that will detect audio devices.”
“That’s handy. How come I don’t know about that?” She tipped her head back and her gaze darted to the four corners of the ceiling. “Cameras?”
“I doubt it, but I’m going to check for those, too. I’m pretty sure whoever is tracking you is more interested in what you say than what you do.”
“And who I do it with?” She pointed a finger at him.
“Me?” He swiped a hand across the back of his neck as the steam from the hot water swirled around him.
“If these people are aware that Denver’s Delta Force team members are the only ones actively working on his behalf, you can bet they know who you all are at this point.”
“You’re probably right.” He reached forward and plucked a strand of hair from Jerrica’s moist face. “Yours is exactly the kind of mind needed for this situation.”
She cocked her head. “Only for this situation?”
“Hell, I’d be happy to have you by my side in any situation, Jerrica West.” He ran his thumb along her lower lip. “I’m trying to remember if we said anything revealing out there before it dawned on me that they might have bugged the place.”
“As far as I can recall, we spent most of our time talking about olive oil.”
He snapped his fingers. “At least they’ll know they can’t get into your place again.”
“We talked about Amit, but they know more about him than we do.” She sank to the edge of the tub. “What have they done with him? If they have his phone, they must have him…or worse.”
“They’re not going to kill someone if they want to get intel from him.” He slammed a fist against his chest. “Take it from someone who knows.”
“I don’t want to hear about what you do.” She made a cross with her fingers and held it in front of her face. “But if Amit refused to give them what they wanted, refused to take them to Dreadworm, they’d have no more reason to keep him alive.”
“They would if they thought they could change his mind.” He sat down on the tub next to her and draped his arm around her shoulders as the water rose behind them. “I know it’s hard, but try not to think about Amit right now. When that guy had you cornered in the alley, he could’ve killed you with the knife, but he didn’t.”
“I should warn everyone else, send out messages. Olaf has a warning system in place and neither Amit nor I used it. We just panicked.”
“That’s understandable.” He squeezed the back of her neck, and then glanced over his shoulder. “I think we’d better turn off the water before it overflows, but until I do my search of the rest of the house, no talking about anything related to Amit or Olaf or Dreadworm.”

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