Shiver of Fear (15 page)

But there was something about that picture. Like it had been taken… with love. She
couldn’t
destroy it. She could drag the whole bag into the bathroom, which would be awkward and obvious that she was hiding something
in it.

There was only one solution.

Straightening, she opened her fingers and the towel fell to the ground with a soft thump. He barely reacted, except for his
eyes, which traveled over her naked body. Hot and slow and up, then down. And again.

“I wouldn’t have looked for whatever it is you’re hiding,” he said.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Obviously you do.” One more time he scanned her, appreciation and desire in his eyes.

She stepped into her panties, holding his gaze when it returned to her face. Then she pulled on the pants and T-shirt. When
she zipped up the suitcase, he shifted his attention back to the laptop.

“If you’re done tormenting me, I think I finally made sense of that drawing.”

She stopped just short of locking the suitcase. “Really?”

He turned the laptop toward her. “That drawing is a diagram for how to make a toxin, in this case botulinum, more deadly than
a nerve agent and probably delivered through an aerosol, most likely to affect hundreds, if not thousands, of people.”

“Do you think that’s why she’s here? Because she knows how to do that?”

“I don’t know. But if she is planning on making this, then we better find her and stop her.”

“And if she isn’t?”

He just nodded. “It’d be good to know that, too.”

Yes, it would. If only to save Devyn’s heart from breaking all over again.

V
ivi stood over her younger cousin’s shoulder and read the computer screen. “How much are we paying you, Chessie?”

“Nothing.”

“God, you’re worth so much more than that.”

Chessie let her head fall back, looking straight up at Vivi, as stunning upside down as she was right side up. “At least minimum
wage.”

“Keep hacking like a beast and you’re gonna get health benefits, too.” Vivi pointed at the screen. “Where exactly is Bangor,
Northern Ireland, and why are you sending Marc there?”

Vivi had finally had a conversation with her cousin last night, and he’d brought her up to speed on the assignment. Which
was a lot more complicated than Mr. Secretive FBI Agent Lang led them to believe.

But when Marc told her what was at stake—a direct connection to Finn MacCauley—Vivi agreed he should
proceed with caution. As she would, when she flew down to North Carolina today to dig around and find out what she could about
the questionable Dr. Greenberg.

Chessie clicked a few keys to open up another page. “See that e-mail sent to Sharon Greenberg? The address is no longer valid,
and the IP address is untraceable, which is kind of interesting and odd. Given enough time, I may be able to crack it. But
I found this.” More keystrokes and a new page, rich with code and virtually unreadable to Vivi.

“And that is?”

“The server location,” she said as if a moron should be able to decipher that. “At least, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s
the location. That server handles Internet messages sent from small towns just east of Belfast, most of them from Bangor.”
More clicks, then a map, and some pretty pictures of a harbor tucked into rolling green hills dotted with sweet little cottages.
“Which is that precious seaside resort right off Belfast Lough.” She gave the Irish word a thick brogue. “
Lough
. I love saying that.”

Vivi rested her hip on the side of the desk, studying the pictures. “What exactly are they going to look for there? I mean,
having the server location doesn’t exactly tell them who sent it.”

“I have ideas. The e-mail address is ‘puggaree17’, so I did a search for every single person in that area with the letters
‘p-u-g’ in their name.”

“Very creative,” Vivi said, tapping Chessie’s shoulder in admiration. “What did you find?”

She returned to the keyboard and called up yet another page. “The Puggetts, the Pugmires, and, listen to this, the Puggley
family! Cute, huh?”

“Very.”

“And, wait, how about this?” One more click. “Three pug breeders in Bangor and the surrounding area. Hey, call me crazy, but
it’s something to go on.”

“He better not call you crazy,” Vivi said, her heart swelling with love and respect for Chessie, who, as the baby of the family,
took a hard rap from her older brothers, and from Zach. “You’re saving his ass. What did he say?”

“I just sent him all this and he hasn’t answered. To be fair, it’s only five-thirty in the morning there, so he’s probably
still asleep.” She arched her dark brows. “Or
they
are.”

“You think?” Vivi asked.

“Wouldn’t hurt him to get laid.”

“Chessie, if your mother heard you talk like that, she’d cry.”

Chessie snorted. “Ma cries if I say ‘shit’.”

“You’re her last great hope, that’s why. And, listen, Marc’s a flirt but not a player.” Still, she had heard a little something
in his voice when they’d talked last night. A level of tenderness she hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since Laura. “When
he called me about going to Raleigh today, he told me he came clean with her on why he’s there. I’m telling you because you
have to know this, but if Lang calls and asks you anything, play it dumb.”

“He’s the client.”

Yes, he was, which was why his caginess irritated her. “He’s also not shooting entirely straight. It makes me wonder.”

Chessie looked up at her. “You investigated too many bad cops when you were a reporter.”

“Hell, yeah, and that’s why my nose is so adept at smelling a rat.”

“You think Mr. Lang’s a rat? He’s so… straightlaced. And kind of cute, don’t you think?”

Vivi would rather die before she admitted she agreed. Mr. Lang was hot in a way that made her want to… mess up his hair. With
her teeth.

“Cute if you like the Dudley Do-Right type. Which”—she pointed a finger in Chessie’s face—“I know from experience can be an
act to hide the insidious evil underneath.”

Chessie laughed but pushed back from the desk to pop her feet up, purple-tipped toes peeking out of black strappy sandals.
“I know this is totally not part of my job, but don’t you think we should be straight with the client even if he’s a little
evasive with us?”

“I do and I don’t,” she admitted. “But Marc’s pretty damn sure they’re in a hornet’s nest of some kind, and Super Special
Assistant Whatever Agent Lang never even
mentioned
Dr. Sharon Greenberg to us. I don’t know if he knows she exists or if she’s the reason he wants Devyn out of there. But Marc
said Devyn’s not going anywhere and happens to have a little something that could earn the Guardian Angelinos a big, fat bonus
and national acclaim.”

Vivi walked to the picture window to look down at the lunch crowds milling about the brick sidewalks of Newberry Street. She
wanted to bring in Finn MacCauley so bad she could taste it.

“We just have to be very careful not to blow it,” she said. “There’s a fine line between not playing by the rules and taking
a risk that costs us everything.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to walk that line every day,” Chessie said.

Vivi turned and smiled at her cousin, who was so much like a sister to her. “And that’s what’s going to make the Guardian
Angelinos the best in the business. There are a zillion security firms that offer bodyguards and investigations. We have to
be different, better, sharper—riskier. And that Lang character? Shoot, he probably never took a risk in his life.”

“He took one by hiring us,” Chessie said.

Vivi grinned. “Touché on that one. So, we have to make it pay off for him.”

“What if your gut’s right and he’s not, you know, a good agent?”

“Then he’s a bad agent,” Vivi countered. “In which case, I’ll nail his ass to the FBI headquarters’ front door, and his boss
will be my new best client. We can’t miss.”

Chessie swiped a lock of dark hair over her shoulder and rounded the reception desk she’d poached as her home base on her
first day. “What you can’t miss is your flight, which leaves in less than two hours.” She grabbed a black tote Vivi had dropped
on her way in. “Are you staying overnight? Is that why you have this?”

“No, but I have to check a bag so I can bring my pistol.” She looked at her watch. “Damn, I really wanted to talk to Zach
before I left.”

“Call his cell. I told you, he’s just house hunting with Samantha. You can call him.”

“I was hoping to kind of read his mood in person.”

“His mood’s good,” Chessie said. “He’s ridiculously in love. We should all be so lucky.”

“All the more reason for me to not bore him with the details of this assignment.”

Chessie tilted her head and gave Vivi her best get-real look. “You don’t want him to know what Marc’s doing over there, do
you?”

The girl was smart, and intuitive. She’d make a great Guardian Angelino. “Look, Zach might be my twin, but he’s more conservative
than I am about these things. That’s why managing the business is his area and pushing the envelopes is mine. Just tell him
I’m doing some intel in North Carolina and I’ll bring him up to speed when and if I have to.”

“When will that be?” Chessie asked.

“When I’m able to say ‘Hey, Zach, the Guardian Angelinos brought in one of the FBI’s most wanted.’ ”

Chessie laughed. “I want to be you when I grow up.”

Vivi tipped her chin. “You’re twenty-five, baby. You are grown up. Be you. I’m a mess.”

“A beautiful mess.”

But Chessie had no idea what she was talking about, and Vivi loved her for it.

“Oh, don’t forget this,” Chessie said, grabbing a file from her desk. “All the information Marc sent me about Dr. Greenberg.
And I printed out some stuff about microbiology and the UNC campus and her lab as plane reading.”

“Good, because I’m going to start at her office before I go to her house.”

“Oh, and I hacked the airline site again and got you out of that window into an aisle.”

“Damn, you’re becoming downright indispensable in this business.”

“That’s my evil plan.” She waggled her brows. “I might get paid.”

“You will get paid,” she promised. “Before anyone else.”

Chessie screwed up her face. “Dude, there
isn’t
anyone else but Uncle Nino. Who, by the way, wants to put a stove in the employee kitchen so he can cook for us.”

“God love that man.” She gave Chessie a quick kiss and added a hug of gratitude. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

Still smiling, Vivi darted into the hall, holding on to the scarred banister as she rounded the corner and looked down to
the Newbury Street entrance. And stopped as the front door opened and a tall, imposing man walked in and looked up at her.

“Special Assistant Agent in Charge Lang.”

He nearly smiled at the title she knew she’d botched again. “Just ‘Mr. Lang’ is fine.”

Not,
she noted,
Colton
. He’d never suggest she call him that.

He stayed at the bottom of the stairs, right outside the door to Silk, watching her as she descended.

Damn, she didn’t want to miss her flight. “We weren’t expecting you,” she said.

“That’s the best time to pop in, I find.” He was kind of a great-looking guy, handsome in a clean-cut way—if there was such
a thing—with hazel eyes that could go green or light brown, depending on the light, and thick, short chestnut hair.

“I’m afraid I’m late to catch a flight, and Zach is at an appointment. Can we reschedule a meeting tomorrow?”

“I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“Not necessary, but thank you. I’m planning to take a cab.”

“I’m parked right out front.”

The only person to get a parking spot on Newbury, naturally. “The traffic will suck at this time.”

“Traffic sucks all the time.” His smile widened, as if it amused him to use the word “suck.” He probably didn’t drop F-bombs,
either. “I’d like a chance to talk to you.”

Well, hell. She’d lost this battle. “All right.” She’d just be careful. The text of Marc’s e-mail remained top of mind, including
his clear instructions that she tell Lang nothing about what he’d discovered—specifically the clouds surrounding Dr. Sharon
Greenberg and the fact that he’d broken cover with his target.

Just for good measure, she imagined the headlines:
Newly Formed Security Firm Zeroes in on Fugitive Missing for Three Decades.

Oh, yeah. She could do this.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked brightly.

“Marc’s progress.”

Of course. “He’s found Devyn in Belfast, has made her acquaintance, and is spending time with her. I really don’t know any
more specifics than that.” That would be her mantra.

“When is she leaving Belfast?” he asked, his hand just hovering over her back as they navigated some foot traffic outside.

“Well, she isn’t in such a big hurry to do that, so he’s working on it. I’ll keep you posted the minute he succeeds.”

“Has he been able to figure out why she’s there?”

A tiny alarm bell dinged in her head. Not because of the question, but the wee bit of concern hidden deep inside his tone.
Most people would have missed it, but investigative journalism had honed Vivi’s skills. “She’s on vacation.”

“A vacation? Who vacations in Northern Ireland?”

“Plenty of people.” They reached a black sedan so nondescript it might as well have had a placard that said “undercover law
enforcement” on the side. “It’s not a bomb fest over there anymore, you know. Bangor, for instance, is a darling little seaside
town.”

He shot her a sharp look. “That’s where she is?”

Way to vomit information, Vivi
. “I think they’re taking a day trip there. But from what he says, Belfast isn’t the center of a civil war anymore.”

“It’s not completely over,” he said, as if he had inside knowledge. “Hot spots bubble up, believe me, Ms. Angelino.”

She shot him a smile and caught him looking at the diamond stud in her nose. “Call me Vivi,” she said. “Since I seem to butcher
your title on a regular basis.”