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“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?”
