Fascination (2 page)

“A good one. She’s offered us first-rate information over the years with no expectation of compensation or recognition. She has managed to dig out things on the Net that we wouldn’t have found, she can go places we can’t. She’s been…useful.”

“Is she cute?”

Ian sent a disparaging look in Marty’s direction. “This is a job interview for HotWires, Marty, not a dating service. Try to drag yourself up into the twenty-first century. Besides, I have no idea if she’s cute or not—we’ve only communicated online and over the phone.”

“Hey, I’m just thinking good thoughts for you, buddy. The national statistics say the median age for a second marriage is thirty-four. At thirty-three and counting, you are ripe for the plucking, the way I see it.”

Marty grinned, clearly knowing he was pushing Ian’s buttons and appearing to be thoroughly enjoying it. Ian stemmed his gut-level response, keeping his buttons in check.

“Statistics lie. I have no plans to rush into remarrying.”

“Rush? Um, yeah, it’s been a little more than five
years since the divorce, bud. You’re a real wild man with the rushing. National stats say that most men remarry within four years—”

“Marty—”

“I’m just
saying.
Maybe Sarah T. Jessup will be the one to make you a statistically viable member of society again.”

Ian shook his head and took a long drink of water. He had no intention of gracing that comment with a response. Sarah Jessup could look like a
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit model, but as far as Ian was concerned it made no difference—work and sex never mixed. All he cared about was how good she was at her job.

He
was
curious about her, though. Using the online name TigerLily, she had a reputation as a major computer junkie—a hacker in the most positive sense of the term. Not all hackers were criminals. In fact, the major proportion of people who called themselves hackers were upstanding citizens. Criminal hackers took otherwise creative and essential computer skills and used them recklessly to do harm or for their own gain.

Then there were hackers, like Sage and her friend Locke, who called themselves “hacktivists”—hackers who used destructive hacking methods as a form of social protest, attacking the computer systems of multinational corporations and major polluters and the like.

Unfortunately the attacks these groups waged often ended up hurting a wider spectrum of people than the organizations they targeted. Hacktivists were still often
criminal hackers, as Ian saw it—you couldn’t start letting politics be an excuse for committing crimes.

Sarah was an example of a legal hacker, someone who was just damned talented with a computer and who had no intention of breaking the law. She had become a self-appointed informant for the feds, tracking down Internet porn rings in her spare time, sending Ian what she found. It was a weird hobby, but the info she’d shared had led to several busts.

Ian knew that Sarah had an incomplete college degree and no formal police training, but those things could be dealt with. She had several part-time jobs, lived in a low-cost apartment in the city. He was willing to bet she probably spent more money on computer equipment than food. But she knew her stuff and stayed on the right side of the law, and that’s what he was looking for. He trusted his gut about people more than he trusted pieces of paper anyway. He just had a feeling about her.

Taking a deep breath, Ian furrowed his brow in irritation as he detected the slightly spicy fragrance Sage had worn earlier today still lingering in the otherwise musty air of his office. His hand clenched tightly around the plastic bottle as he felt the familiar wave of desire hit, followed by the dulling sense of frustration.

Sage was a criminal hacker, someone off-limits to him even if only for the next few days. She was the last connection to his old life, and when this gig was over he would cut her loose and forget about her.

Yeah, right.
Even though he’d carefully guarded against it, Sage had become more than just another case. He replayed the moment her hand moved over the skin of his arm and felt a flash of heat—he could still feel it, her soft skin on his. Her long fingers touching him just for that short moment. Her nails, ragged and bitten to the quick, were painted with red polish, and he found that was amazingly sexy, because it was on
her.
That she would wear such a bold color on her short nails was also indicative of Sage—she just didn’t accept limitations. Not easily anyway. And she tempted him every chance she got.

He was tempted, no doubt about that. What red-blooded man could have Sage in front of him for years, issuing invitations left and right, and not at least
think
about it? But red-blooded as he might be, Ian’s sense of self-discipline was fierce.

It also helped that he knew the come-ons and flirting were just her way of punishing him, of exacting some small bit of revenge for how he’d invaded her life. She didn’t really want him, she just wanted to get back at him. He was just doing his job and he reminded himself of that every time he let himself think how good she smelled.

There was just something about her that he’d known from the start was going to be trouble. One look into those stubborn green eyes when they’d first met, and a part of him knew she could cause trouble for him as no other woman had. Her wildly curly red hair cinched it.
She was like a flame, dancing around him, always just out of reach.

He just had to hold strong. And he had.

Five more days.

It was his duty to keep tight tabs on her, and he had, but maybe he’d put in a little more time than usual. He told himself it was because she couldn’t be trusted, because he couldn’t drop the ball for one minute with her. He knew the type. They were like drug addicts with computers and were bound to cave sooner or later. But she never did, at least as far as he knew. Still, he watched. Carefully. And he would to the very end.

Marty took another bite from the apple in his hand, the crisp crack of the fruit snapping loudly in the quiet office, breaking the spell of Ian’s thoughts. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Lots on my mind. Anyway, Jessup’s due in here in a few minutes, so I have to get ready.”

Marty smiled and saluted. “Gotcha. Let me know how it goes.”

Ian watched Marty leave and sighed as his friend nearly collided with a woman who appeared in the doorway—an incredibly tall, voluptuous, sable-haired Amazon with blue eyes that grabbed aggressively onto Ian’s and didn’t let go. Dressed in tight black jeans and a leather jacket—not exactly job interview attire—she didn’t disappoint his expectations. Sarah wasn’t your typical computer geek—she looked like hell on wheels.

Ian raised an eyebrow as Marty shook his fingers in a “too hot” gesture behind Jessup’s head as he moved
past her into the hallway—something she shouldn’t have seen but did. Turning slowly, she fixed an icy-blue stare on Marty until he smiled feebly and slinked away.

Ian liked her already.

S
AGE SAT NERVOUSLY IN
the small lounge, the folder containing her résumé—her very
thin
résumé—clasped in her hands. The appointment for her interview had been more than thirty minutes ago, but she was willing to wait—she needed a new job, a real job, something that would allow her to move forward in life.

When she’d seen the classified ad for a security consultant, her heart had leaped—plenty of hackers, even those who had been on the wrong side of the law, became high-level security consultants. It was like hiring a reformed thief to help you make sure your house was secure. She figured she stood as much of a chance at the job as anyone.

But as time passed, her confidence was evaporating. The other applicants looked younger than she was, were male and their folders appeared to be much thicker than hers. Most had laptops with them or at least Blackberrys or PDAs. Probably none of them had felony convictions.

Was she nuts? There was no way a reputable company like this was going to hire someone like her.

Swallowing the lump of anger and despair that had suddenly formed in her throat, she left the room with as much dignity as she could manage, passing by the other applicants, who barely spared her a glance. Well, goody for them, she thought belligerently. Boring bunch of yuppie wannabes anyhow.

Except she wanted to be one, too. Wanted to be normal, to have a real life. Wanted to be respected for her talents. Wanted to be valued and accepted. She wanted to show her family that she could be a success, even though she had let them down in so many other ways.

Walking out into the stifling summer air, she yanked off the conservative gray blazer she’d spent way too much money on for the interview. Her hopes had been too high when she’d received the phone call responding to her application—an application conspicuously missing any hint of her conviction. She’d figured it would be better to try to explain that in person. Ha. What had she been thinking? She was just glad to have left before she’d gone in there and humiliated herself.

Lifting her face up, the strong rays of the midday sun felt like a kiss on her skin. The sky was clear and bright, but when she looked forward and tried to see her future, it was just a gray blur, on the personal as well as the professional front.

Regardless of the games she played with Ian, there hadn’t been many men in her life. Not many decent guys were turned on by a woman who had been convicted of a felony. Those who were weren’t the kind of
men she wanted to know. How much of that would change when she was free?

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, she let the warmth soothe her until a pointed wolf whistle had her glaring at the source and continuing on her way. She walked down the sweltering city sidewalk to the waterfront, gazing out at the Elizabeth River—Lizzie, as the residents called it. She leaned over the rail that ran the length of the park and led down to the Nautilus naval museum, the gigantic battleship, the USS Wisconsin, looming above the museum building.

It was a perfect day—the waters were smooth and green, and dolphins were frolicking out in the river as they often did, drawing amazed stares and the clicking of tourist cameras. Turning from the rail, she headed toward the hot dog stand in search of some lunch and companionship.

She’d taken the day off from the shop to go to the interview, so there was nothing else on her schedule. She’d given her two weeks notice anyway—motivation for getting a better job—but now she thought maybe she had been a little hasty in that decision. Feeling down, she knew just how to lighten her spirits. As she approached the stand, she heard the gruff laugh she loved filling the air around her.

“Hey, Ray.”

“Sage! My favorite girl. Woooo, look at you! All dressed up today!” The older black man leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “Did we have a date and I forgot?”

Sage laughed, her mood brightening at the sound of his voice. She responded, her voice playful.

“No, you never ask me out. I’m still waiting. You’re my guy, Ray, you know that.” She planted a solid kiss on his rough cheek and Ray howled again. He handed her a hot dog with everything on it—just the way she liked it—and a cola.

She sat down on the cement-block wall behind the stand, munching while Ray served some customers. He’d been around as far back as she could remember. Her parents had taken her and her sister to lunch at the park every week when she was little. That’s when she’d met Ray. He’d become a good friend and a sort of honorary uncle.

She’d continued to come by at least once a week until her arrest. The eighteen months at the beginning of her sentence, when she had been confined to home arrest, had been the hardest of her life for many reasons, but one of those was because she never got to visit Ray.

Helping himself to a hot dog, he sat next to her, took a bite, then spoke. “So what has you down here all dressed up, li’l girl? You should be working, huh?”

She nodded, swiping some mustard from her chin with her pinkie and sucking it from the end of her finger. “Yeah. I took the day off. Had a job interview.”

“Hey! Good news! You’re almost done. You have to come down here and celebrate on the day.”

Sage smiled, but then it faded. “You bet. But
free
is a relative term, isn’t it, Ray? I’ve reached the end of my sentence, but I feel like it will never really be over. I
can’t escape the past.” She knew she sounded sorry for herself in spades, but she couldn’t help it.

Surprisingly Ray laughed again, and she looked up, popping the last big of dog into her mouth. He shook his head.

“Well, you know, girl, I made my own mistakes an’ been where you are. Been in worse. You have a college degree. I never had none of that, but it’s no matter. We can do whatever we want. We make our own luck.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Depends on what you tryin’ to do, don’t it? You just gotta find the right thing, that’s all.” He cleared his throat and patted her arm. “Don’t worry too much. I had a hard time, too, when I got out. People’ll forget, it just takes a while. I kept at it, got enough odd jobs to get myself a cart and found myself a spot to sell lunch. Before you know it I had this stand, right here in this pretty park. No one else is allowed to have their stands here, the city said, just me. The mayor himself. Imagine that.”

Sage smiled and nodded quietly, having heard the story a thousand times. She always enjoyed how Ray’s face lit up with pride when he told it. But he’d only told her about his time in jail after she’d been arrested and become too ashamed to come around to see him. So he’d come to see her and told her he understood.

He’d never told her why he’d been sent up, but she just knew there was no way this gentle man had ever hurt anyone or anything. She never asked. He never judged, so she didn’t either.

“I just want a normal life, Ray. A good job. You know, the regular stuff.”

“Mebbe you aren’t cut out for regular, missy. You’re special. You just have to find your place. Just don’t plan on coming down here and tryin’ to edge old Ray out with your own stand.” He laughed again, and she couldn’t help but join in.

“No worries there, Ray. I wouldn’t even try to compete with you. Everyone knows you’re the best.”

She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Looking past his shoulder, she stiffened suddenly, her eyes widening as she saw a familiar figure coming into view.

Locke stood at the edge of the park, watching her. She hadn’t seen him since before her arrest. She thought she might be seeing things and blinked, but he was still there. A cold feeling spread up from the base of her spine. Slipping out of Ray’s hug, she studied Locke, her heart in her throat. What was he doing here? Why now?

I
AN LIFTED A STEAMING
cup of coffee to his lips as he reviewed Sarah Jessup’s résumé and his interview notes from the previous day. He believed he might be looking at the first new member of his team.

True, her formal qualifications were a little light, but she could talk the talk and she was more than a little interested. There were lots of people out there with the right education, the right experience, but she had
passion.
There was a sharpness, an electricity about her that he liked. She knew computers inside and out and she was a born cop whether she knew it or not. He’d won
dered why she never pursued a career in law enforcement and had to suppress a grin when she’d told him she’d thought about it but didn’t like the uniforms. She’d been relieved to know the HotWires weren’t required to wear them.

The lady had talent, but she also had secrets. He had seen the slightest flicker in her eyes when he’d mentioned doing a background check. When he’d asked her if there was anything she needed to tell him about, she’d closed up like a clam. He would have to see what that was about before hiring her, but he trusted his gut that she was one of the people he was looking for.

There was also no denying that she was, as Marty had made a fool out of himself noticing, pretty damned hot—a fact that left Ian cold. He couldn’t drum up an even mildly sexual thought about Sarah Jessup, whose ample curves and chocolate-brown hair should have at least inspired one. This was doubly annoying because his mind kept wandering back to Sage’s silky copper curls.

Ian couldn’t seem to get Sage out of his head. He didn’t like being distracted, and that fact urged him to either get the hell away from her or to take her up on what she was offering, to get her out of his system. He was dangerously close to the latter. What would she do if he did? How would she react? Was it all an act on her part or did she really desire him?

He slammed on the mental brakes. No sense going there. He’d gotten out of his office thinking a change of venue would freshen his mind and help him concen
trate, but thoughts of Sage followed him wherever he went. It was well and good that it was almost over. Four more days.

He’d taken his laptop and set up at a table in a local waterfront coffee shop for the afternoon. It was a perk that he could avoid the office when he wanted to. He watched groups of tourists file out of the tour boats. A large cruise ship was moored in the background. Even from a distance the ship appeared enormous. His parents took several cruises each year, but he’d never been on one, preferring to spend his weeks off fishing with his brothers at their camp in Maine.

His mom and dad had both been career Navy until they’d retired the year before last. His dad had been a commander who had worked on submarines since he was seventeen; he’d spent the last twenty years as captain of his own boat. Ian’s mom had been a nurse who’d eventually found her way onto the big ships, as well. And now they took their vacations on boats. Ian didn’t understand it, but to each their own.

He sighed, realizing he wouldn’t be taking another vacation for a while. He should contact his brothers—Jim, who was older, and Gabe, who was younger—and see if they could at least grab a weekend sometime soon before all of his time got sucked up by getting the new team up and running. Squinting out the window, his gaze gravitated toward someone too familiar.

Sage.

She was standing with the hot-dog-stand guy she visited every week. At this time of day, though, he
would have expected her to be at work. He made a mental note to check out why she wasn’t.

The old guy, Ray, had been convicted on charges of bank robbery back in the sixties, but from what Ian could tell when he’d read over the case, it had been a bad bust. Ray had been hung out to dry more or less because he was convenient—caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. There wouldn’t have been much interest in finding justice for a poor black man back then. Sage seemed very fond of him.

Ian couldn’t make out the look on her face, but he saw her hug Ray and then slowly move past him to stand on the edge of the walk, her attention focused across the street. She was staring at a man, not far from where Ian himself sat in the window. The guy looked roughly her age but slick and—Ian’s gut signaled him—dangerous.

He was tall. Skinny but built—the kind of guy who always walked away because others underestimated him in a fight. His long hair was tied back and an earring shone in the sunlight. Ian couldn’t make out exact facial features, but his hackles rose in response to the way the guy’s focus was obviously pinned on Sage. They were making direct eye contact—silent communication streaming across the distance between them. They definitely knew each other.

Ian’s internal radar sharpened. Something was up and it wasn’t good. Though he’d never seen the guy before, he knew the look—he was a walking hacker cliché. Dressed in black, wearing a leather jacket on a hot
summer day, he stood out like a sore thumb to anyone who knew the type. Apparently, like many criminal hackers, he had an ego bigger than his brain. Though they’d claim otherwise, they usually wanted to be noticed.

Ian waited to see what would happen, his body tense and poised in the chair. The man stepped back, taking an envelope from his jacket and sliding it into the large pot of flowers by the curb, nodding in Sage’s direction before walking away.

A drop,
Ian realized. And not even a very subtle one. This guy didn’t really care if anyone saw him. Or maybe he was just arrogant enough to think no one was looking.

What was she involved in? Ian’s blood first ran cold and then started to simmer—was she an idiot, getting involved with these people when she was so close to finishing out her time? Or had she been involved with them all along, playing Ian for a fool? Sage was clever, no doubt. Maybe more so than he’d assumed. Maybe for all his supervision, she’d found a back door. Maybe her constant flirting was not so much an attempt at control as a method of distraction. Was the guy part of her old group? She’d never given up any of their identities, though Ian knew she hadn’t worked alone. Someone new? Were they lovers?

His jaw tightened as ugly thoughts raced through his mind. He held himself in check, resisted the urge to run out and confront her, to find out what was in the package. He intended to find out soon enough.