Sky's Lark (7 page)

His own bank account should fatten with bonus pay from having to do more than his typical influential command for authorities to remain hands off and out of Santora's territory. Linking his name to Santora could mark the end of his lucrative career, but it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up with the piles of money flowing in his direction for modest effort on his part.

He would bet nearly all government officials believed their coworkers resisted the temptation to take under-the-table money or work for the other side, taking faith and confidence in each person's honor and unscathed morals. Just like he wanted it. However, a few proved to be less gullible, trusting no one, and constantly searched for clues that a man had slipped from his pedestal to wallow in the mud with thugs and criminals. Thomas purposely kept his nose clean and watched his back for that very reason. A rumor, a hint of wrongdoing, would send a whole team of busybodies to his door to comb through his life with a magnifying glass, something that simply couldn't happen.

The green bar across his computer screen filled completely, signaling the completion of the analyzing program. Sitting forward, he clicked the mouse, haphazardly glancing over the results. What he saw shocked the breath out of him.

"What the…?

Instead of the usual results of no more than a handful of inquiries, usually from credit card companies intent upon checking out his financial situation in order to send him more applications than a person could stand, he discovered someone had deeply and intently rifled through his account, sneaking past more than one barrier, only to reach a pitfall which led them to a dead end, a neat trick and one he insisted the lead DEA IT person install to guard all his personal files and protect confidential data. That he used it for his personal information only made sense to Thomas, though he dared not mention it to anyone else. Technological security was a huge issue with any government computer and he wasn't the only employee that took advantage of that protection to borrow for his personal life.

"Who are you, you son of a bitch?" Frantically, he read through the many hits, finding time and again where someone methodically beat at his financial door, nearly managing to bypass his final wall. A tidal wave of panic roared through him as he realized how close they came to finding multiple account transfers and other documentation directly linking him to not only Santora, but to a few other unscrupulous characters that the federal government would prefer lived behind bars for life or had already met their demise, now sweating it out in eternal hell. His fingers flew over the keyboard, backtracking the intruder, searching for any identifying factor he could use to find and eliminate the threat once and for all.

Each and every time, the program spit out the same information. The local library. That was the origin of the inquiries, which meant either someone actually spent hours per day sitting on an unyielding wooden chair, working hard to delve into his business, or they were one of these computer gurus that could transmit information from their computer anywhere in the world and send it through another computer, tricking the program and person into believing the actual middle computer held responsibility rather than the original. He would bet on the latter.

Running his hands through his short blond hair, he considered his options. So far, the final wall held tight, which meant the guru needed more time and ability to slink past. That could hold for another day or decade, he couldn't be sure. In the meantime, he had to find a way to cover his tracks better, but he dare not erase vital emails and other information, lest a game of hardball became necessary. His hedge against blackmail would come in quite handy if any one of the traitors decided to finger him to the authorities.

Still unsure what to do about the hacker, he flipped over to his secure email account, noting a recent message from Shark. Clicking on it, he found a short note explaining that the boss was looking for a woman, the one who had turned him over to the DEA to begin with. A small black and white picture sat below the words. He clicked on it, enlarging it to full screen, and blinked. Hitting the print icon, he sat back, immediately grabbing the paper as it fell into the tray.

Once more, he relaxed in his seat, this time holding the image before him. "Well, I'll be damned." Staring at it a moment longer, a slow smile appeared on his face. Not only did he know her, but he could pull up her contact information in a matter of seconds.

The pieces fell into place. She must have tagged Santora then decided something fishy existed in the department, which sent her to searching through his files in an attempt to catch him red-handed. He recalled her nosey habit the brief time she had fallen under his jurisdiction. Her snooty attitude and haughtiness had frankly irritated him as did her small curvy feminine form, cut out more for an aerobics instructor than his agency. She could handle herself, he gave her that much, but he resented having to put up with a woman in a man's profession. Women belonged at home to take care of the house and children, just like his wife. Not toting guns around and tracking down bad guys.

She had the balls and brashness to attempt such a feat, but this time that wet-dream body wouldn't save her. He held the winning hand in a high-stakes game and would only be too happy to watch her house of cards fall into a messy pile. The reward would pad his bank account while he enjoyed watching her learn a hard lesson on why women shouldn't mess in a man's world. Both would be an early birthday present for him, one he couldn't wait to see.

Chapter 11

"Here's what I have thus far. It's not much, mostly circumstantial evidence." Clutching the printed pages from her purse, she laid them on Ryan's desk.

"Are you sure you're on the right track?" He picked up the small pile, thumbing through each page as his blue eyes scanned over the information.

Of her four brothers, Lark remained closest to Ryan, for a variety of reasons. He was the nearest to her in age, a mere two years older. They'd teamed up as kids to harass the older siblings and played with one another when no one else had time or the willingness to do so. She loved her male-dominated family, but Ryan held an extra special piece of her heart.

"One of the team with some serious hacking skills couldn't even get through the protective walls. He said it was locked up tighter than the Pentagon, which is saying something big."

"Sounds like it." He glanced up at her before resuming his investigation of the documents.

He reminded her so much of their father, Jake. Tall and built, his boyish face took on a serious expression now, but at home, he glowed with amusement and mischief. Both men worked hard and used their time off to play harder. Blond hair, a couple of shades darker than her own, swept across his forehead. When amused, dimples appeared on his cleanly shaved cheeks.

Jake, as well as all his children, had attended West Point. While Lark, Ryan, and Luke chose to resign from their military lives, the two oldest brothers, Marshall and Deacon, still served. In all reality, none of them had considered much else after high school. The military was all they knew as kids when their parents had packed them up and moved them all around the world as soon as the papers arrived with new orders.

Despite the lack of constancy, Lark wouldn't trade the experience for anything. Not many kids visited such exotic locations, let alone lived there long enough to soak up cultures and languages. While others her age might have been playing in the streets or riding their bicycles, her family walked the Great Wall of China and enjoyed the exquisite tropical offerings of Fiji.

Their mother was the exception to the military life, having attended a public university and never once considered joining the service. She'd cheered in college and had met her husband while cheering for the team playing against his. Jake, a running back at the time, had received a big shove out of bounds while carrying the ball. Unable to stop, he'd plowed her down where she had been positioned on the sidelines.

Ryan placed the papers back on his desk then leaned forward, resting his elbows on a large desktop monthly calendar. "It's not much. You have to have something much more concrete in order for me to even approach a judge for a search warrant."

She nodded. "I know and I'm working on it." Brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, she met his gaze. "You get the same feelings I do? That Thomas is the one?"

For a long moment, he remained mute. "Yeah, after this and what you told me, my gut says he's the one. Unfortunately, the court system doesn't operate well on just gut instinct."

"Don't I know it."

"You okay?" His blue eyes, a match to hers, flashed with concern.

"Yeah. I'm doing okay. My guardian angel is keeping me informed with notes and I notified my boss. He scolded me and warned me to call before I hit quicksand." A grin appeared. "He threatened to take it out of my hide if I waited too long to ask for help from the team."

"Sounds like a good man." Ryan leaned back in his leather office chair.

"Best boss a girl could ask for." She spoke with sincerity and truth.

"So, returning to the DEA full time is out of the question?" He steepled his fingers to rest under his chin.

She heard the trace of worry in his voice. "I'll remain on a contractual case-by-case basis, but no, I'm not going to return, at least not in the near future. What I do now makes me feel… I don't know. Alive. Like I'm actually doing some good in the world." Lark scooted closer and said in a stage whisper, "You should see all the toys. Man, oh man."

Ryan chuckled, his shoulders easing for the first time since she walked into his office. "You were always a sucker for a good rocket launcher."

"Hey, takes one to know one," she quickly defended, knowing for a certainty the rest of her family, with the exception of possibly her mother, drooled over the latest high tech gadgets available in confidence to the military. Gathering up her purse, she stood to leave. "I'll let you know if I get anything else of value."

Standing, he ambled to her side before pulling her into a strong hug. "You better. Call me each day and keep your head down."

"I will. Promise." She lifted to brush a kiss across his cheek. "Don't work too hard. According to Mom, you're supposed to be finding a wife and giving her some grandkids."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't you start, too."

With a giggle, she strode from the room.

When she returned home from the impromptu meeting with her youngest brother, Lark automatically locked the door behind her. She was still antsy with a high-profile criminal placing a fortune in bounty on her head.

Normally, she handled stress well, blowing off the small stuff, absorbing the adrenaline rush, and relishing the revved-up feeling as she met the challenges involved with a dangerous mission. However, this situation proved completely different. She held very little control over when or where the bad guys might strike; the battlefront could be anywhere. From her apartment to a corner restaurant, any moment could turn to hell in a hand basket with absolutely no warning. Those fears kept her on high alert, unable to sleep at night, and weighed her shoulders down with worry.

Her brother was concerned. She'd read the hallmarks clearly on his boyish face, lines replacing his typical grin, his eyes sharp and overly bright instead of the usual mischievous twinkling. At least he'd agreed with her findings and intuition when it came to the identity of the mole and promised to pull strings in order to get a judge to sign a search warrant as soon as possible, enough to confiscate Thomas's computer along with the other two men Lark suspected to be involved.

She strode quickly into the bedroom after depositing her purse on the dining room table, only to slide to a halt just inside the doorway. No, she didn't have a note this time. Instead, she found a tall, dark-toned man sitting on her bed, the very same one that had demanded a kiss for her freedom a few nights before. Her heart sped even as her breathing seized.

His hands rested at his sides as deep brown eyes caught and held her gaze. In the light streaming through her window, she verified his physique, noting the large mass of muscles filling out a long-sleeved black T-shirt. Blue jeans and plain tennis shoes completed the package.

"We meet again." His soft voice carried easily across the small space, sending her nerves to firing and the hair on the back of her neck to standing at attention.

What in the hell did that mean? Did he recognize her and decide to drag her in for the hefty reward? Or was he the guardian angel, intent upon giving her a heads-up in order to avoid a shortened lifespan? "So we do. Now get out." Crossing her arms across her chest, she glared down at him, determined to put every ounce of intimidation into her voice and body language.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "No can do. Besides, we have a problem."

"We?"

"Yes, we." He remained seated, his large body no less imposing despite his lower physical position.

"You've got two minutes to say your piece before I drag your ass out of my apartment."

A full grin appeared on his chiseled face, replacing dark shadows of fatigue with amusement. "You can try. But I have a feeling you want to hear this."

She sighed and waved her arms. "Fine. Out with it already."

"Seems there's another player after the bounty on your head. Someone that can and will find you."

She forced herself to stand steady to show that his words didn't affect her. "I figure half the city is after me. So what?"

He shook his head. "No. I was given three days to find you, but someone else notified my overseer that he knows you personally and will easily pick you up by tomorrow."

"And you are?"

"Bryce. My friends call me Sky. Undercover cop presently infiltrated into Santora's main drug-dealing gang."

She watched him with newfound interest and appreciation. He was the one who had risked life and limb to leave notes in a small wooden box on her dresser. The rest of his words tumbled through her numb brain. Undercover cop. That beat thug any day of the week. "I'm Lark, in case you wondered."