The Paris Assignment (7 page)

Her gaze caught on a pair of yoga pants and discarded T-shirt on her shelf reserved for workout clothes and she snatched at them like they were a life preserver and she were drowning. Baggy and semi-unflattering, the clothes would offer some protection from the man.

Or so she hoped.

Flipping off the lights in her bedroom, she walked down the hall toward her office. Campbell had joked he was a family friend. Well, she’d let him fend for himself in the kitchen as she caught up on a bit of work. She’d fought the urge to check her emails during the event but too much was going on to fully ignore the office and the lure of her sleek, silver laptop beckoned.

Less than a minute later, Abby groaned at the long string of unread emails, proving she’d pay for her post-work absence. With practice born of long years of message management, she triaged the emails into the most urgent, either due to sender or topic and sorted the rest for when she could get to them.

“You want half? You barely ate anything at the benefit.”

The deep voice penetrated the work haze she’d descended into and Abby looked up and blinked. The sight of Campbell standing in her doorway, his shirttails untucked and that sexy patch of skin visible at the V open at his throat, had her stomach clenching in another burst of attraction before it switched gears and focused on the half a sandwich he held up.

Her stomach let out a long, low growl in agreement. “I’m so hungry I’m not even embarrassed by that resounding shout of agreement.”

“Here.” He crossed the room and set the ham and cheese down, her half wrapped in a napkin.

“Thanks.”

He swallowed a bite of his own half, then gestured toward her desk with his dinner. “What are you working on?”

“The bane of every professional’s existence. Email.”

“Can I look at a few things while you’re eating?”

“What things?”

“I told you I set up those databases to run while we were gone.”

She nodded, curious to observe him now that he seemed to be back in work mode. The change was intriguing, the sexy would-be lover gone in the face of a highly focused technology expert.

The thought was as fascinating as it was disappointing.

Especially when she realized she missed that sexy heat that had lingered in his gaze downstairs.

“Here.” Campbell came around to her side of the desk and was already sliding the laptop in his direction. With mind-boggling speed, he tapped into her system infrastructure and had a series of scripts running on the page before she’d swallowed another bite.

“How’d you do that so fast?”

“Years and years of practice.”

“Try again. I’m more than proficient in our systems and I could never move through the commands with that degree of speed. What gives?”

“I told you. Practice.” He reached for the last bite of his sandwich he’d settled next to the laptop and popped it into his mouth before walking to the small framed photograph she kept on a shelf behind her desk. “Is this your mother?”

Abby focused on the lines of code racing over the face of her computer, unwilling to turn around. “Yes.”

“She was very beautiful. You look like her.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I’m sorry. It’s difficult to lose a parent.”

She rarely spoke of her mother so the fact she’d had to confront the subject twice in one night had her closing in on herself. Abby knew it—and knew Campbell, of all people, spoke from experience—but she wasn’t able to calm down or channel a different reaction.

“I’ve had a long time to get used to it.” The words were unnecessarily harsh and Abby knew she’d meant them to be. She also knew she was already sorry for the brusque tone and even edgier response. Before she could manage an apology, his gaze caught on the screen and his focus shifted once again.

“What is it?”

“You see that?” He tapped a few quick commands then scrolled back to the point he wanted to highlight. “Right here. See the gap?”

She saw it immediately and dragged the laptop a bit closer. “How’d you find that so quickly?”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“No, really, Campbell. I understand this stuff. Clearly I don’t live it and breathe it like you do, but I understand it. What’d you do?”

“I reprogrammed an old honeypot to see if I’d get any nibbles.”

“And?”

“He bit.”

* * *

Campbell pulled the computer back toward him, suddenly itchy for the multiple screens in his office. He made a mental note to add a few to his remit list for the setup in Paris, then went back to the task at hand.

Abby leaned over the computer, her arm brushing his as she left her dinner forgotten on the other side of the desk. “I know my team has an entire honeynet in place as part of the security infrastructure, but it’s clear you’ve done something differently.”

“The design is simple and hardly sophisticated. I replicated a few basic program functions he’d have to work around to come in undetected. I’ll put something more extensive in place tomorrow but this gives me something to go on.”

“A fingerprint for our ghost?” She moved closer, the thin cotton of her T-shirt soft against his forearm. Her movements were unconscious, but his body reacted immediately.

And how the hell was baggy cotton suddenly the sexiest damn thing in the universe?

“Not yet.” The words came out on a harsh bark and he pulled himself back, the insane urge to drag her against his body and continue what they’d started in the foyer flashing through his mind like a blinking sign.

Softening his tone, he forced the sexy images from his mind and pointed once more to the computer. “But this information should get us closer.”

She stood up, the heat of her body vanishing as she crossed around the desk and took a seat opposite him. “Nice work, Mr. Steele.”

“I haven’t caught him yet. Or her,” he amended quickly, still unsure of what they were up against.

“How is it someone hasn’t snapped you up yet? I know what your skills are worth. There are companies that would pay big to have you on their side.”

The image of working for a large corporation had always given him an itch between the shoulder blades. “There’s not enough money in the world to tie me to a corporate job.”

Her eyebrows rose as she pointed toward the laptop. “Isn’t this, by definition, a corporate job?”

“This is a job with a defined beginning, middle and end. Then I move on to the next thing. No strings attached.”

No strings attached.

It was his philosophy and it had served him well for his thirty-two years. Campbell saw no reason to shift gears now.

“You don’t like roots?”

“I’ve got roots in the form of two meddlesome sisters, a hands-off brother and a pair of well-meaning grandparents who are perfectly happy to see me when I’m in town and not nag at me when I’m not.”

“And you’re happy with that?”

“As a clam.”

“I never understood that.”

Whether it was her lack of accusation—most women would have been on his no-strings comment faster than a lightning strike—or the curiosity that stamped itself in her tone, he didn’t know.

Maybe it was just a vague sense when she’d spoken about her mother that they were kindred spirits, but her comment had him talking when he’d usually default to saying nothing.

“They’re my family and they’ve always been more than enough.”
They had to be.

“I meant the clam.”

“What clam?”

“The happy one. How does anyone know that? They’re not exactly high on the evolutionary chain. They certainly don’t show emotion.”

“This is an odd conversation.”

“Very.” She picked up the sandwich once again. “This’ll go better with a glass of wine.”

“Doesn’t everything?”

“Usually. Grab the laptop and we’ll head back down to the kitchen. We need to figure out our game plan for the next few days.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 5

A
s her great-grandmother’s grandfather clock chimed four in the morning, Abby dropped her head onto the kitchen table. She’d had only one glass of the rich Cabernet—a feat of restraint she now applauded herself for—and tried to focus on the diagram Campbell held in his hands.

“So where’s the study?”

“There is no study on that floor. The hallway’s longer than your diagram and there’s a sitting room at the end of the hall.”

“How far away is the study?”

“Two floors up.”

“And where are you holding the meetings?”

“In the dining room on the first floor.”

Campbell groaned as he scribbled a few notes on a legal pad she’d hunted up shortly after midnight. They’d been going over the layout to the Paris house for hours, mapping out meeting strategy and all the potential ways they could trap their ghost in the flesh.

“Why are you so worried about the study?”

He reached for his coffee mug as he tapped on the crudely drawn map. “It’s the most likely place you’d keep information which would mean it’s the most likely place he’ll look. But, I need to set up the security team in there. We want to set a trap for our ghost, a physical one, but we don’t need one inadvertently set for us.”

“And you really think it’s one of the attendees for the week?”

Abby knew it was possible—had resigned herself to that fact even before she’d contacted Kensington about the job—but it continued to rub her the wrong way. She
knew
these people. Knew each and every person who would be in her home in the coming days.

How it was even imaginable any of them had made threats, violated the integrity of McBane’s systems and very possibly shot at her and Campbell tonight and she didn’t know.

Yet even as she questioned it, when she added up each of those factors it wasn’t only possible, it was highly probable.

“Abby. I know this is hard but you’ve got to give me a little bit more.”

“Fine. What else do you want to know?”

“The server and uplink to the office you keep in the Paris location. Who put that in?”

She sighed and reached for her own cup of coffee but gave him as thorough an answer as she could. “Two of my key tech guys installed it, following my set of specifications. I’ve got a matched set here if you’d like to take a look.”

She saw the interest spark in his eyes and gave up the thought that she might be lucky enough to snag an hour or two of sleep. “Do you trust them?”

“I did. Now I don’t know who to trust.”

“Were you there for the install?”

“Most of it. I had them do it over a weekend and I’m also there when upgrades to the system are installed if they require outside techs. No one gets into any of my homes without my say-so.”

“Smart. Okay. I’ll look into their backgrounds but let’s assume for the moment your home system’s clean. Does anyone else in the company know the extent of what you’ve got at home beyond the team that help you put it together?”

“There’s no reason to think anyone does, but up until a few weeks ago, there wasn’t a reason to think anyone cared all that much.” She held up a hand. “And before you think I’m minimizing this, my home system is a replica of the command details at the office. I don’t have any personal authority over the satellites. Just because my name’s on the building doesn’t change the security protocols I follow, as well.”

“So give them to me.”

“Four people, including me, have full access to the nerve center that is McBane Communications. We have eighteen satellites in orbit and another six set to launch over the next three years. No one has sole access—every major command into the system requires at least two of us to initiate.”

“Can that be changed?”

“Not without a hell of a lot of us knowing about it. There’s a secondary layer another eight people have classified access to. They can’t formally override any systems—even in tandem with each other—but they need to be able to access all the software, manage maintenance and upload new iterations of software. We also have a team that interfaces with those who lease space from us.”

“Those were the names you gave me this afternoon?”

She traced the handle of her mug, the images of each and every one of those trusted colleagues flashing through her mind on a loop. “Yes. They’re the best place to start.”

The overwhelming desire to rant and rail that none of them could be responsible—that none would betray her that way—was strong but Abby held back. The story she’d shared with Campbell earlier about her stepmother was only half the story.

That resounding sense of betrayal had irrevocably changed her and it hadn’t taken a whole lot of self-analysis to realize her entire adult life had been built around a small, trusted team of people she’d carefully vetted, in both her professional and personal lives. Very few people were part of her inner circle, by her own choice.

Her gaze drifted toward Campbell. His sister had been part of that inner circle since college. Despite going months without talking to each other—their daily lives hectic enough that even living in the same city had never ensured regular visits—they were close. Abby knew to the depths of her being that Kensington Steele had her back.

Was that what made it so easy to trust Campbell? Or was it something else?

He scribbled a few notes on the pad of paper, his concentration absolute, and she couldn’t help but be fascinated by his focus. Since their meeting that afternoon, he’d immersed himself in her problem, and with an attention to detail she’d rarely seen in another person.

The sharp buzz of the doorbell startled them both and pulled her from her observations.

“You regularly get callers at four in the morning?”

“Never any good ones.” An image of the night her father died flew to her mind on swift wings. His unexpected death skiing in Vermont had brought a late-night visit from the police. Even now, she could recall the immediate mixture of shock and disbelief as a kind-faced officer stood outside her door with his partner and told her why they’d come.

Before she could get up, Campbell was out of his seat and heading for the hallway. “Stay here.”

“I need to key the alarm.”

“Fine, but stay here until I see who it is.”

The heavy, hammering beats of her heart kicked up a notch at the idea he might be facing an unexpected visitor on the other side of the door. A door framed in decorative glass that would give someone bent on doing harm an easy shot. Unwilling to allow him to face a possible threat alone, she followed him down the hall.

“Are you physically incapable of taking direction?” She didn’t miss the anger that boiled underneath his words before his hand flung out and pulled her behind him.

His actions were so immediate—and so protective—a strange sense of wonder filled her at his touch.

“I didn’t hire you to be my damn bodyguard.”

“Consider it an extra service. On the house.” His hand tightened and she drew in a hard breath as his long fingers connected with her waist.

“Who is it?”

“Campbell. It’s Kensington.”

“Just a sec.” Campbell sighed hard before he turned around. “She can’t use the phone?”

“She must have found something if she’s here.”

“Go ahead and key in the code then get back behind me.”

“Campbell. It’s your sister!”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.” The alarm beeped off and Campbell pulled her behind him once again before opening the door. She wanted to push her way past him—this was her house and her friend, after all—but something held her back.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t have to face the other side alone.

* * *

Campbell kept the increasing urge to argue in check, but he was hanging on by a thin thread. What the hell was Kensington doing over here? And at four in the morning, to boot. He’d already pressed her on why she couldn’t have used the phone, but her pointed stare and flick of the wrist hadn’t been an answer so much as a dismissal.

Now the three of them were back around Abby’s kitchen table, full mugs of coffee fueling each of them.

“You want to save the attitude this time and tell me why you rushed over here instead of using the phone?”

“I wanted to make sure you were both all right.”

Abby’s hands tightened on her mug, her features drawn. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger. What if someone’s watching the house?”

“I’m fine. Besides, T-Bone brought me.”

“There’s someone out there?” Those drawn features changed immediately to concern as she leaped out of her chair. “He needs to come in.”

Campbell reached for her hand and held tight until she stood still and looked at him. “T-Bone’s more than capable of sitting in the car. A car with bulletproof glass, I might add.”

Some of the fight went out of her shoulders as she dropped back into her seat. “T-Bone?”

“He’s worked for the Steele family for a long time. Rowan named him when she was a kid because he looks like a slab of meat. I can’t believe you’ve never met him.”

“T-Bone prefers staying in the background.” Kensington brushed it off. “And he hasn’t needed to do a lot of the day-to-day for a long time.”

“So why’s he here now?”

Kensington took a sip of her coffee and Campbell didn’t miss the piercing stare across the top of the mug. He’d spent his life with the common-enough remark that the Steele siblings all had the same eyes, but he’d always felt Kensington’s were the most penetrating.

Add on the same skill as their mother and grandmother—the ability to see beneath the surface of most any situation—and Campbell had the sneaking suspicion his sister knew he had the hots for one of her oldest and dearest friends.

“I’m also here because I have to tell you something.”

Campbell fought the mixed urge to throttle his sister for dragging out whatever it was she had to say and appreciating the fact she took the time to ease Abby into whatever news she’d come to share. “What’s going on?”

“I started the security order for Abby’s Paris house and came across a bit of disconcerting news.”

“What’d you find?” Whatever well-merited concern Abby had for T-Bone transformed instantly into a cool, competent businesswoman used to situation briefings.

“The homes on both sides of yours in Paris have been broken into in the past year.”

“There’s no way, Kensington. I realize we don’t exactly run a neighborhood watch, but I’d have heard about it. Two in one year?”

“You likely wouldn’t have heard about these.” Kensington shook her head. “Aside from the fact those with the most desirable address in Paris prefer to keep things like this to themselves, nothing was stolen and both were hushed up by their respective security companies, neither of which is the same as yours. It’s only when I gave your address and said Avenue Foch that I got a hit with our team.”

“Which was? Come on, spill it, Kenzi.”

Campbell suspected Kensington held back the urge to stick out her tongue—barely—before she gave them the high points. “The security team said there were two mysterious hits in the neighborhood that were over a year apart. No one thought anything of the first, other than that it was either an interrupted event or a trial run for something bigger. They’ve kept a close eye and that was that. It was only when the second happened, two doors down, that the interest grew more speculative as to what might be going on.”

“Two break-ins. On opposite sides of my home?”

“Yes.” Kensington nodded.

“And nothing taken from either address?”

“Nothing at all, even after a thorough search by both owners.”

“Any guesses on motive?” Campbell pressed the question, but he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Absolutely none.”

“I know.” Abby’s quiet voice punctuated the moment and for the first time since they’d met that afternoon, he saw the true depth of the strain this was taking on her. “The motive was me.”

“Yes, that’s what I believe.”

* * *

Abby drew her legs up under her and made room for Kensington on the overstuffed couch in her sitting room. They’d left Campbell down the hall in the guest room and took a few minutes to catch up in the small alcove off of Abby’s bedroom.

“I appreciate the personalized service but you really can get back home. It’s almost morning and you must be exhausted. Besides, T-Bone’s downstairs waiting.”

“It’s what he does best, which is strange and comforting all at the same time.”

Since it was useless to argue with Kensington once she made up her mind—a trait Abby could hardly fault her for as she was known for a similar bent—she offered up a quick apology instead. “I’m sorry this is turning out to be such a difficult project. I never expected this.”

“It’s our job, Abby. We’ll figure it out.” Kenzi paused for the briefest moment, the rare sign of hesitation evident in her gaze, before she pushed forward. “Is my brother behaving himself?”

Abby couldn’t hold back the light snort. “That was quick.”

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“With the trademark Steele intensity.”

A light swat hit her leg before Kenzi pushed forward. “No, that one’s designed to intimidate and unnerve. I’m talking about the heat look. I’m hardly surprised—at all—but, well, actually I am in a way.”

Intrigued at the hesitation—and more delighted than she cared to admit—Abby pressed for more. “What way is that?”

“He’s a private man and that’s as true with our family as it is with others.”

Campbell’s claims earlier that his family was more than enough for him was an interesting contrast to Kensington’s perspective. “I got the feeling that you all were pretty tight. You’ve all dealt with mutual loss and built a strong family unit, not to mention a business, out of that.”

It was Kensington’s turn to snort. “Like that would get my brother to open up to me about his love life. He’s intensely private and lives inside his head. Always has. Add on the fact that Liam took on the role of crown prince of the dating scene pretty early and Campbell’s quiet about who he’s interested in.”

“Especially since you’re so discreet and all. Goodness, you and I were barely in this room for two minutes before you were grilling me.”