Sideswiped (4 page)

Silas abruptly lost his need to protest.

“There were six of them there,” the woman said, eyes tracking someone behind him, “and they caused a panic that made local and state news. My God, you got the proctor shot.”

“He's not a proctor, he's a prophylactic,” Allen said as he came up to them. “What would you have done?”

“Not what you did,” the woman said, sticking her hand out. “Peri Reed.”

“Allen Swift,” he said, taking it as Summer eased up beside Silas and Silas curved a hand around her waist. “You're in the freshman class?” he asked quizzically.

“No, incoming senior,” she said brightly, and Silas exhaled, glad she wasn't looking at him anymore. At his side, Summer gave him an askance look. “I did my military on the East Coast, but I can't get the upper drafter classes there, so here I am.”

Silas's brow rose. “I didn't know Opti did that.”

She leaned back against the jukebox, giving the approaching man a look to turn around and wait to put in his music request. “They don't, but Opti found me at like ten, so they just let me hang with my retired agent/child psychologist for the drafter studies, and I got the military stuff through the Marines.”

She'd gone through M
arine training? Gutsy.

“It's nice to meet you,” Allen said, making Silas wonder at the light in his eye.

“Ah, this is Summer, my girlfriend,” Silas said, and the two women shook hands, looking so different they complemented each other.

“Peri Reed. Pleasure,” the woman said again, her confidence telling Silas she was used to meeting people with a lot of personal clout and could hold her own.

“I think you met Silas yesterday?” Summer guessed.

“Met? She hit me with a stolen drone and got my exam thrown out,” he said, and Summer grinned.

“Sorry about the migraine last night,” Summer said brightly.

Peri shrugged. “Don't worry about it. You do what you need to do to save your anchor, the hell with the rest. If nothing else, I've got a big list of what not to do next year.”

Allen cleared his throat, clearly not sure if she was being sarcastic or not. Silas was betting she wasn't.

“And what would you have done?” Allen asked as he took his glasses off and dropped them in his shirt pocket. “There were six agents on site and one goal.”

Peri beamed. “There was one retired agent on site,” she said, and Allen froze when she reached out and tightened his tie. “Watching six students and one lab rat trying to play pin the tail on the box of chocolates.”

Lab rat?

“If it had been me,” Peri said as she dropped back from Allen, his ears now a flustered red, “I would have gone into Professor Milo's office the night before and replaced the chocolates in the box with fuzzy troll babies.”

Silas chuckled, smile fading when three couples took their table, pushing their used glasses to the front, where a waitress whisked them away.

“Yeah?” Allen said antagonistically as Summer began casting around for another table, but the place was full.

“Yeah.” Peri cocked her head coyly. “It's a win-win either way. If I got the box on task, I win. If I didn't get the box on task, it's still a win because I already have the chocolate.”

It made sense in a warped and twisted way. Just the thing a retired, bored Opti-agent-turned-schoolteacher would find amusing. “And if you got caught in Milo's office?” he asked.

Peri smiled as she turned to him. “I'd still call that a win. I'd probably be put on suspension, but I'd have the kudos for trying.”

There was that, and Silas's hand tightened around Summer's waist.

“I hear you all have to wait six months to retake,” Peri said. “If someone tried that with me, I'd trash the grading computer so everyone had to retake. They won't make everyone wait to graduate, and if they run them again . . .” Peri smirked, turning to the jukebox to make another selection.

“That's not a bad idea,” Allen said softly.

Suddenly wary, Silas stopped looking for another table. “What,” he said flatly.

“We could do that!” Allen said with wide-eyed enthusiasm. “We could break into the registrar's office and wipe out everyone's grades for the semester.”

Summer began to laugh. “Allen, love. They back those up,” she said, and Silas frowned, wishing Allen would let it go.

“So we put the system in a death spiral instead,” Allen said, waving his arms and inching into Peri's personal space. “It will have the same effect. If they can't reboot, they can't post grades. Silas knows how to do that.”

“And everyone on campus knows it,” Silas said as Peri pushed Allen right back with a stiff finger. Silas hid a smile, enjoying how the woman was reading everyone quickly and correctly. His smile faded. Something had hurt her in the past, something that made her good at assessing people fast. But most drafters were like that.

“Which means nothing if they can't
prove
it was you,” Allen persisted. “It will take months to rebuild. Win-win,” he said brightly. “Either we do it and they let us graduate with everyone else due to the general disarray, or we fail and deserve being held back.”

Summer gave Silas a weary look. Silas agreed. Allen's expression darkened upon seeing it. “What are they going to do?” Allen said. “Kick us out of the program? We're too valuable.”

Well, Silas was valuable, and Summer, being a drafter, was valuable. Allen . . . not so much, and with that, Silas realized Allen was fighting for something he knew he was at risk of losing. With no drafter invested in him, Allen had to prove himself, or he'd be shoved into the slush pool, where he'd do research and file papers until catching the eye of a high-profile drafter. It was sort of Silas's fault, not for having screwed up his final, but for using Allen as a buffer so he could maintain a relationship with Summer, a relationship that was destined to fall apart unless he proved he could be an effective anchor.

“We'll do it,” he said suddenly, and Summer gasped, almost as shocked as Allen.

“Silas, are you kidding?” Summer said, eyes wide.

“Opti rewards bold, decisive behavior,” he said nervously, and Peri's eyebrows rose in question. “It couldn't make things worse. And it might be my only chance to prove that I could make a good anchor and get out of the labs,” he finished, hating that his neck had gone red.

Allen went quiet. “Okay,” he said slowly as the music changed again, into something dark and dangerous. “We've got two days to figure this out. Peri, you still have that drone you stole?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said, hand raised as she dropped back a step. “Why are you assuming I want to get involved?”

“You mean the one she hit Silas with?” Summer asked. “Silas said it was busted.”

“You owe Silas for getting his exam thrown out,” Allen said, and she shook her head, not buying it. “Then do it because you're three years behind in impressing the hell out of the instructors, every one of whom are going to see a little rich girl playing spy and put you in the mail room so your mommy doesn't sue them when you break a nail,” he tried again.

Ooooo, that hurt
, Silas thought as she flushed, clearly sensitive about her size, or maybe her background. “It won't fly,” Peri said.

But that wasn't a no, and Allen grinned. “I can get it working and off-grid in two hours.”

“Good,” Peri said. “Because when I was in there today registering for classes, I heard they were going to deliver grades over the weekend. We have six hours.”

Tonight? We'll have to do it tonight?
Silas's pulse raced. It was like making lemonade from a cow patty. But Summer and he would have a chance to prove they could work together, perhaps getting him out of the labs, where he might be able to find something lasting with her. Allen would have the chance to make himself stand out, or at the very least gain some points with a rising, clearly talented drafter. And Peri, well, Allen hadn't lied about her possibly ending up in a soft, low-profile job.

They were all looking at Silas, committed but waiting for confirmation. Peri had the intel, Allen and Summer the know-how, and he the technology that would make it work.

“Why the hell not?” he said, and Summer smiled at him, kindling a growing feeling of anticipation.

CHAPTER

FOUR

A
simmering tension made Silas's grip on the micro-iron chancy, and he cursed his thick fingers as the delicate tool slipped from the wristband's circuitry, threatening Summer's pale skin. Summer had such slim hands. The thought that he might hurt her made him nervous.

“Relax.” Summer leaned into him, calming him with her touch. “You've got this.”

But it was her skin he might tear if he angled the tool too tight. Worried, he bent over the wristband again. The oily scent of the smut Summer had traced around his eyes earlier seemed to get into them, and he blinked fast.

Across the small on-campus apartment's living room, Allen and Peri were working out the details of using her phone to drive the reappropriated drone. Using his phone and the drone as a booster, they could link the computer in the registrar's office to the one in Silas's lab without using the monitored fiber-optic lines. With it, they'd have the distance to remain blameless, if not anonymous.

The rest of their tools—lock picks, camera spray, smartphone-to-glass technology adapter, and DNA-destroying wipes—were assembled on the coffee table beside them. They were waiting for him, and Silas tried to concentrate as Peri looked over his and Summer's apartment, the smart woman learning more about him than he was comfortable with.

Anyone could tell he and Summer had been together a long time. The two-room flat was a pleasant mix of him and her, no clashing of styles but a comfortable, easy “us.” That Summer might someday put things in boxes and leave to work with someone other than him was terrifying. Who did the complete set of
Lord of the Rings
DVDs belong to? Who would keep the glasses, each chip having a story to tell? The towels on the rack she had insisted were too expensive? Who retained the picture of them at the amusement park, and who would have an empty spot on their coffee table?

He squinted at the unexpected anxiety, exhaling when Summer shifted the light.
This has to work
, he thought as he tried the new angle Summer had suggested.
I can't lose her because I'm too good at my job.

The sliding sound of Peri putting the picture of them in the bumper cars back on the coffee table seemed to rake across his soul. Her expression was as tight as his, as if she were seeing something from her past in their happy faces. “My dorm has a three a.m. curfew,” she said, giving the picture a last nudge to put it precisely where it had been. “If I'm not back by then, it will raise a flag.”

Summer shifted on the seat beside him, uneasy. “Just go,” she said, and Silas's grip on her wrist tightened at the heartache in her eyes, the clear blue of them lost behind the ring of black camouflage. “I'll stay here. Keep your back door open.”

Allen looked up from his phone, using it like a mirror to apply the same facial recognition deterrent around his eyes. “You think three of us can do this?” he asked, handing the smut stick to Peri, who capped it off and dropped it into her waist pack.

“We won't have to,” Silas said, fighting the tension. “I just need . . . there.” He slumped as he finally got the circuit cleared and was able to pull the chipped bracelet from Summer's arm. “You're good,” he said as he put it next to the speaker where Allen's wristband lay. The faint thump of the electronic dance music would give the impression of a pulse, and the work light hanging over it would keep it at body temperature. It was their window of opportunity and their alibi all at once.

“I'm not a dog to be chipped.” Allen stood, shrugging into his black jacket and checking the ties on his boots. “Thanks, Silas.”

“No problem.” Silas stood as well, but his relief was short-lived. He turned to find his satchel, but was distracted by his tablet chiming that the data had finished compiling. As much as he wanted to see it, that could wait, and he bumped into Summer as she handed his satchel to him; he wasn't expecting her to be that close. Her smile was a sad hint, and his arms went around her in a quick, fervent hug. “This will be quick like bunnies,” he predicted, but it felt like a wish, a hope.

“I know,” she whispered, but even if they did this right, there were no guarantees.

He held Summer's coat for her, and as Allen and Peri waited impatiently by the door with the stolen drone, he gave one last look at the space that he and Summer had made. His eyes rose to his friends, all of them looking like exotic ancient warriors, with the battle paint around their eyes and across their cheekbones.

“Let's go,” he said, and one by one they filed out before him. Silas shut the door behind him and set the biometrics lock. It felt more final than it should.

From there, it was a quick jog across the night-darkened campus to the registrar's office. The noise of partying students was obvious, and they skirted a drunken crowd at the fountain, slowing to a halt in the quiet of the deserted office building. It was designated low-security, but there'd be someone on site, and Silas held his breath as Allen hugged the building and gave the door camera a spritz of camera fog. Nodding, he stepped back, and Summer typed in the students' access code. The light over the door made her into an angel.

“This is the coolest thing,” Allen said as he rubbed the excess camera fog from his fingers. “How come we don't have this?”

“It's still in development,” Silas said, not surprised Allen had never seen it. The science geeks were still tweaking it, but Silas thought it was perfect as it was, evaporating in thirty seconds and designed to block detail without attracting the attention of whoever was watching the monitors.

“Drone is up,” Peri said, the faint glow of her phone lighting her face as she stood outside the camera's range with her back to the building. “And . . . we've got connection. No reason to think it won't hold once we're inside.”

Frowning, Summer again typed the access code. From the reader, a dismal beep sounded. “Uh, guys?”

Allen slumped. “Great,” he said, looking behind him. “This is going to look fabulous on my résumé. We can't even get in. You think there's an open window or something?”

Peri looked up from landing the drone on the roof, her angular face going into shadow when the phone went dormant. Leaning forward, she peered at the code. “It's the right code. I used the same one this morning. I bet they have an after-hours approval.”

Sure enough, the intercom on the door crackled. “Yes? Who is it?”

As one, they all dropped back out of the camera's range. It was a night guard. Brow furrowed, Allen hit the
RESPOND
button, scraping his finger across the mic to simulate a bad connection.

“Hang on. I'll be right up. Intercom is fuzzy,” a masculine voice said, then nothing.

Peri's eyes went to Summer. “Someone is going to have to distract him.”

“I'll do it,” Summer said immediately.

Starting, Silas pulled Summer deeper into the shadows. “No. You have no reason to be here. Peri was here this morning and can pretend to be looking for her phone. Peri can do it.”

“Me?” Peri's lips parted in surprise. “Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not a tall, sexy bombshell.”

Silas took the phone out of Peri's hand and handed it to Summer. “No, you are petite, dark, and sexy as all hell. Don't sell yourself short. Summer can work the drone.”

No one said anything, and he realized Summer and Allen were staring at him. “What?” he said, feeling his neck warm. “You don't think she's sexy enough to distract a night guard?”

“Well, yeah,” Allen said. “We're just surprised you noticed.”

Flustered, Silas took Summer's phone and gave it to Peri. “Tell him you forgot your phone this afternoon,” he said, using the DNA wipes to get the smut from her face. Her features were tiny, her small nose turned up at the end, and her dark lashes long and heavy. Nothing like ­Summer's strong cheekbones and wispy lashes. “Jam the door when he opens it if nothing else. If he lets you in, I'll text you when we've finished, and we'll wait for you outside. Go. You've got this, and we've got you.”

Peri hesitated, and a tingle spread from Silas's fingers through his entire body. He could see the moment she decided to trust him, and it was thrilling all by itself—that trust given not freely, but fully. “I can't believe this,” she said. “You can work the drone?”

“Yes, we're good.”

The lights flicked on within the long corridor inside. It was the guard, and everyone but Peri scattered, Allen to one side, Silas and Summer to the other. The excitement of the improv shivered through Silas. It would work. They had all understudied someone else's part, and there was nothing to stumble over. The only thing he didn't like was that the guard would remember Peri. If his phone didn't reach the drone and piggyback the connection, they'd have to use the ground lines, which would lead any investigation here to Peri looking for her phone at midnight.

The rattle of the door sent a shock through him, and he froze, crouched awkwardly and feeling as big and obvious as a bus.

“Hi, can I help you?” the guard said as the open door buzzed a soft warning, and Silas relaxed. The man's voice was heavy with interest. Peri had this, with sparkles and silver stars.

“I am so sorry,” she said with an apologetic lilt Silas never would've guessed she could manage. “I left my phone in the waiting room this afternoon. It was so weird. No one was calling me. I thought maybe I could just get it and no one would know how stupid I was. Has anyone turned it in?”

“No.” The door squeaked as he pushed it open even more, the alarm still buzzing. “You want to take a look?”

“Oh, thank you,” Peri gushed. “You are a lifesaver.”

Silas peeked around the building's trash can, his smile widening as he saw the tall man completely taken by Peri as she touched his arm. “Kind of late to be making a call, isn't it?” he said.

“I just transferred in. My boyfriend is on the West Coast and I told him I'd call around nine. It's about nine there, isn't it?”

The door shut, the alarm cutting off. Silas edged forward, watching as they turned a corner at the end of the corridor and were gone.

Summer came even with Silas, a wiry grin on her face as she brought up the drone app on Peri's phone. “She's really good for someone who thinks she's a two on charisma. I just hope I'm a ten on tech.”

“It's pretty standard,” Silas said, impressed as well, and becoming more so when he saw the lock pick Peri had jammed at the sensor pad, preventing the heavy door from locking even as the alarm circuit was closed.

Allen took a last look back toward the faint music drifting across campus, then followed them inside. “I'm guessing we have three minutes?”

Lip between her teeth as she studied the unfamiliar phone, Sum­mer said, “She's as cute as a bug and smart as a snake. We've got ten, easy.”

As Allen ran vanguard, Silas took her elbow, guiding her down the hall as she walked and worked the drone, watching the connection rise and fall as they moved. “You're not jealous, are you?”

“No,” she said, and Silas gave her a sideways hug, the urge to hold and never let go heavy in him.

Tall and lanky, Allen stretched to spray another camera into a blurry, temporary mess. “Guys?” he said, exasperated at the cuddling, and Silas let his arms slip from Summer.

Thirty seconds and three cameras later, they were at the manager's office. Silas's brow furrowed at the locked door pad, and then he relaxed. It was last year's technology. Easy.

“Summer?” he asked as he popped the panel, and she glanced at Peri's phone.

“Drone is good. We have a solid connection.”

Excitement made his fingers tingle. “Then let's do this,” he said, and the door lock clicked to green.

Allen pushed the door open, hesitating briefly before vanishing inside. Silas followed, nose wrinkling at the strong perfume scent that hazed the small room. Two monitors alternated between four cameras, showing a break room, reception desk, waiting room, and the dark receiving bay. A cold, oily cup of coffee sat amid strewn papers and files on the desk in front of the screens, and an indulgent desk chair with a large butt print sat before it. One of the monitors had gone steady on a single image, a red light on the screen indicating movement. It was Peri and the night guard, and he smiled as they began checking under the chairs in the waiting room for her “missing” phone, Peri's faint voice coming through the speaker.

The lock on the door might have been last year's, but the computer system was not, and Allen made a happy sound as he sat before the state-of-the-art glass technology monitor, thin fingers moving fast as he bypassed level after level of security to get into the background. “Nice chair,” he complained, the broken caster rattling as he scooted it forward.

Summer leaned over Allen, watching. “Can you route it so it looks as if the attack came from Milo's office?”

Allen smiled up at her, flushing when Silas cleared his throat. “Ah, too obvious,” he said as Summer grinned at Silas and backed up. “They'd know that was contrived and look for the trace back to here. I'm going to route us through the lunchroom.”

“Lunchroom?” Silas asked, head down as he dug through his belt pack for the smartphone–glass tech adapter. His phone was in the way, and he set it aside, finally finding the small clear wafer of glass.

“Everything feeds into the lunchroom,” Allen said, and Summer plucked the glass pad from Silas's hand and cheerfully began hooking it up herself. It was obvious Allen and Summer were an effective team, working seamlessly and without getting in each other's way, but if this was a success, it would be him beside her next year, and he pushed his anticipation down.

Summer touched Allen's shoulder to tell him she was done, then dropped back to check on the drone, fingers hesitating only briefly at the unfamiliar system. “We've got a great connection. How's Peri doing?”