Seek and Destroy (29 page)

    "Brilliant. Now he knows the way into your system."

    "It doesn't work that way," she defended. "Unless Surreal knew the IP address ahead of time, there is no way he hitched a ride on the scrambler."

    "So how do you know he found us?"

    "Crack the code," she answered. "Use the first letter of each word to spell another word. Follow Only Using Nonstop Devotion-F-O-U-N-D. Yes Only Us-Y-O-U. For In Rising Satisfaction Times-F-I-R-S-T. Found you first."

    "What about the shoes?"

    "I don't think that was part of the pattern. That's why I think he can see us."

    "How so?"

    "He commented on my shoes."

    David glanced down at her bare feet. "You aren't wearing any."

    She slipped her shoes back on and held up her feet. "See?"

    "They look like ordinary shoes to me."

    "Uh," she didn't know whether she wanted to admit as much, but knew no other way. "Thomas was with me when I bought them."

    "Jesus Christ, Charis. Just how well did you know this guy? You two went shopping together?" A few other cuss words slipped out.

    Her computer beeped again. Instead of answering his question, she read the screen aloud. "
Love One Over Kindness. Beware Evil Hides In No Darkness. Year Of Unhappiness. Blind Catch H
." Charis closed her eyes. "Look behind you."

    She felt him tense beside her. "What?"

    "It says to look behind you. BC 8." Oh God.
OhGodOhGodOhGod
.
Please don't let it be something, or someone, dead. She could handle blood, guts, and gore. Just as long as no one died.

    The buzzer sounded above carousel eight behind her, scaring the be-Jesus out of her. The amber light flashed and the tracks started to move. He hurried over to the opening, his stance off to the side, his weapon tucked neatly in his front belt.

    Weapon?

    Where did he find a gun? They were in the airport for crying out loud. He could be arrested for that. He disappeared to the other side of the carousal.

    And why didn't he bother telling her about the gun? If he felt they were in any danger, he sure as hell didn't fill her in on that fact. She looked around, noticed she was alone, not another soul in sight. Without hesitation, she jumped up and hurried around the corner to his side. She wanted the man with the gun as close as possible.

    He flicked a glance her way, and then gave her a double take. "Charis? What the hell are you doing?"

    "I'm not going to stay over there alone."

    "Get back to your computer, Angel. If Surreal can see us, then he can see you've left your computer unprotected."

    She gave him a roll of her eyes. When he continued his intense glare to get her to go back to her post, she humored him and took only the needed steps to sweep a glance over to the table.

    Where the laptop
used
to be. Her heart leapt to her throat and froze there.

    "It's gone." Charis ran back over to the table. The laptop, the scrambler...everything but the plug in, which still sat on the table. Gone. She spun around. How could it be gone? She couldn't have been gone more than thirty seconds.

    The carousel stopped. David's massive shoulders visibly sank as he came back around. With a loud curse that echoed through the empty baggage claim area, he kicked the carousel.

    

    

    He could see her. He'd actually found her sitting there in the baggage claim and even called out her name as if she'd be able to hear him. His fingers traced her face along the monitor. He almost felt the texture of her skin, so soft and silky under his fingers. They were close to sharing a moment together.

    And then
he
appeared. Surreal almost punched his monitor when he saw none other than the agent responsible for the destruction of his parents’ cabin.

    David Fucking Snyder.

    What in the hell was he doing with
his
Charis? Snyder had already stolen so much from him. Could he really be stupid enough to think he'd be able to steal her, too?

    He'd traced her IP and sent her a message. He wanted to say more, but with Snyder watching over her shoulder, he'd had to keep it brief. After starting the carousel to pull Snyder away from her, he wanted to send her another message. He didn't think she'd run to his side like that.

    When she placed her hands on his arm, he'd screamed out against it. Out of the corner of the surveillance he watched as the two punk kids he'd paid to grab her laptop took off with it. With a satisfied smile, he stopped the carousel.

    The program he wrote to run background checks beeped at its completion. Surreal leaned in and read the monitor. "Shot in Sri Lanka. Coincidently right around the time Abu Khalil had been assassinated. Oh? And what's this? Hospitalized for Ricin poisoning? Interesting." He printed the report and logged into several sites to send out feelers for anyone who may want payback for the death of their dear friend Abu.

    It was too perfect. He didn't even have to get his hands dirty. Snyder had more enemies than friends. Any number of them would jump at the chance to pay NASSD Agent David Snyder a little visit.

    In less than ten minutes he had a nice list of possible contacts. He sent the top three a message and quoted the price for David Snyder's ugly head on a platter.

    "A small price to pay to get what I want. Karma." A triumphant grin curled on his lips. He loved when things came together like that. "What comes around goes around."

    

    

    "What else was on that laptop?"

    Charis shrugged for the bazillionth time. David growled deep in the back of his throat. How could she not know?

    "JT gave it to me right before we left. I never bothered running a scan of the hard drive."

    
Shit
. This little stumble in the op might very well expose the agency past the point of no return. He rubbed his forehead to ward off the headache growing behind his temples. Between the extra scrutiny at the SeaTac airport in order for him to bring his weapon onto the plane, the pucker flight into Montana on a damn prop plane, and the wait at the Missoula airport while they pulled him aside to make sure he still had his weapon on him, he was ready to chew nails.

    They were now in her house, sitting in the extra bedroom she'd turned into her office. He took a moment to clear his thoughts and memorize the room. Her colossal mahogany desk took up half the room, an obvious necessity to hold the half dozen monitors. He'd never seen so many monitors connected to a single computer before.

    She set the desk up so the natural lighting from the window above it would illuminate her station. Floor to ceiling bookcases full of books flanked either side of the desk. Books, he noticed, that had nothing to do with computers or hacking. Most of them were romance, with only a few mysteries. He pulled one down and read the back blurb. Nope. Make that all romance.

    "Which one of these is your favorite?"

    She didn't bother to look up from her monitors, to even hesitate as she answered. "Pick out anything by Jami Davenport."

    He found one and pulled it down. "
Who's Been Sleeping In My Bed
? What kind of book is this?"

    "Don't knock it. There's a seriously hot scene in chapter twelve I want to try out. Start on page 147." He damn near swallowed his tongue at her comment. Without hesitation, he flipped it open to the page and started reading.

    Holy hell. As his eyes scanned the page, he felt a stir deep in his groin. "They are in a restaurant, Charis."

    "A bar, actually." And not once, as she had this conversation of having sex in public, did she even slow her keystrokes.

    He put it back. No way would he be able to concentrate if he continued to read, to finish the scene and see how it played out. No doubt the book ended in the proverbial happily ever after. But he knew better. He'd spent his time working toward his HEA. He knew first hand how unrealistic thinking two people could somehow find each other amongst the other two billion people on the planet.

    Soul mate? Yeah, right.

    He moved to the other bookcase on the opposite wall. More romances. Shaking his head, he turned toward the empty whiteboard attached to the wall opposite the desk. He picked up a pen and made a few notes, the names and locations of the buildings five years ago. The same for those destroyed in the last three weeks.

    Shit. Three buildings in three weeks. He'd only blown three before they found him five years ago. Maybe they'd get that lucky again.

    Jesus, please let them be that lucky again.

    After adding the last of the names, he stood back and stared at them. There had to be a connection. Had to be.

    Not that he could see. Five years ago he took out two technology buildings, with an architectural firm sandwiched in between.

    There had to be a pattern. Every psycho had a pattern. Surreal would be no different. He'd made a mistake five years ago, a mistake that led David right to him. It wouldn't be long before he'd screw up again.

    And when he did, David would be ready for him. Oh, he would find him. This time, David would make sure they had him.

    "Where are you?" he asked the board. "Why can't we find you, you sorry son-of-a-bitch?"

    "I'm working on it," she answered impatiently. "Just give me another minute."

    "Let me guess, you want more coffee."

    She brought her gaze up from the monitors. They'd arrived at her house in Montana earlier in the day and had spent the rest of the day in her house. More precisely, in this room. A cute little house, fitting her perfectly. Off-white siding with peach shutters. The picket fence had been a nice touch. The lawn had been carefully manicured, as were the bushes in front of the house.

    It was so Charis. Every aspect of her life so perfectly in order, all the way down to the peaches and cream mailbox. Even her living room furniture matched. Her kitchen towels. He hadn't visited the bathroom yet, but he'd bet his last nickel it matched everything else in the house.

    Yep. Perfect.

    His mind rested on Hawaii. She was so outside her element there. No wonder he couldn't read her. She'd been nervous, out of sorts. She even admitted to feeling reckless. He glanced around her perfectly organized office.

    Talk about mixed signals.

    "No coffee. But you can make us a drink."

    Now she was talking. "Got any whiskey?"

    She nodded, not taking her eyes off the plethora of screens. Her fingers flew over her keyboard. "Above the fridge. I'll take mine with ice. No water."

    "I'll be back."

    "Can't wait," she answered. Her fingers clicked on the keyboard as he walked out of her office and into the kitchen.

    He found the whiskey and poured a few fingers for him before adding ice. Knowing she needed to keep her head on straight, he added the ice before the fingers for her drink. Bringing them both back into her office, he handed hers to her.

    "Thanks," she said, staring at a monitor as it returned nonsensical data she seemed so interested in as she read it. She took a sip and set the drink down on a coaster without ever looking away from the monitor. He took a long drink before looking for another coaster to set his down. "To your right."

    Not sure how she saw where the coaster hid, let alone how she knew he looked for one, he set it down and folded his arms in front of him. He'd never met anyone else who knew their surroundings all the way down to the last detail as well as he did. Hell, she knew her surroundings
better
than he did.

    And that said something. He'd already memorized the layout of every room, down to how many throw rugs she had. Why hadn't he been able to recall where the coaster sat on her desk? It wasn't like him to forget something like that. Hell, it wasn't like him to forget anything.

    But Charis had a way about her, a way that made everything else around her seem less... Well, just less. His senses dulled to everything else and instead focused so intently on her there it left no room for anything else.

    "Watch your drink."

    "Huh?" He looked back at his drink just as a cat the size of a raccoon jumped up on the desk and sniffed at it. The cat had the coloring of a jersey cow. It amused him to watch the darn thing sniff, shake his head. And then it shocked the shit out of him when it buried its face in the glass and started to lap up his whiskey. He grabbed the glass away before the stupid cat drank it all. "Hey!"

    "That would be Peepers. He's my cat."

    "Your cat drinks whiskey?"

    "I've talked to him about it," she answered, her eyes still glued to the monitors. She snapped her eyes to whichever monitor beeped and brought up data. "But he refuses to attend any of the AA meetings."

    "Maybe because you named the poor thing Peepers."

    "He's a big boy. He can handle it. Here we go."

    "Talk to me."

    She pointed to the monitor farthest to the right. "Here. Surreal tapped into the feed at SeaTac Airport last night around eight. He must have been watching the feeds until we showed up. Whew. I thought he piggy-backed on my feed."

    David had no idea what she just said. "Uh, is he still watching the feed?"

    She shook her head. "He got what he came for. I talked to JT. She said nothing on that laptop could be traced back to NASSD. No IPs. Nothing programmed into the scrambler. As soon as he tries to log into the computer and fails, it will throw a static charge through the hard drive."