Her Dark Web Defender
Page 1
How can he protect her from a predator
When she’ll risk everything for vengeance?
State Trooper Kelly Roberts joins Special Agent Tony Lazzaro’s task force, determined to bring down a cybercriminal preying on young victims. Solving this case is a chance for redemption. If Kelly catches the killer, she’ll be one step closer to solving her best friend’s abduction. She never expects to fall for Tony. But trusting him means risking everything she holds dear...
“Good. How about Casey’s Diner?”
“Not there.” Kelly cleared her throat. “I mean, there’s no reason to go there when we’re only getting coffee.”
“Okay.” Tony dragged the word out as he studied her. “You have something else in mind?”
She waved her hand, but her elbow remained rooted near her rib cage. “There are plenty of coffee shops around.”
“You pick, then. You lead. I’ll follow your car.”
She nodded and continued to her car. What had made her so nervous? And why did she want to avoid the diner? Those were just some of the questions among many he had about Kelly Roberts. At a time when he should have been focusing on his final case and preparing to walk away from the task force, he was too curious about a young police officer who seemed to be hiding something. Too curious for his own good.
* * *
If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense
Dear Reader,
I am so excited to share Kelly and Tony’s story with you. I wanted to explore a romance in the context of an FBI joint task force, where I could peel through the layers of the internet and where the hunters and the hunted are one and the same. I hope you find the ride as exciting as I did.
Her Dark Web Defender is the second story in the True Blue series for the Romantic Suspense line, but it is also connected to the books I wrote for the now-closed Harlequin Superromance line. True Blue tells the stories of the brave men and women from a Michigan State Police post.
If you love Kelly and Tony’s story and want to get to know some of the other members of the Brighton Post community, check out Shielded by the Lawman (Romantic Suspense) as well as Strength Under Fire and Falling for the Cop (Superromance).
I love staying in contact with readers, no matter how you choose to connect. Learn more about me and sign up for my newsletter through my website, dananussio.com; connect with me on Facebook, Facebook.com/DanaNussio, or Twitter, Twitter.com/DanaNussio1; or drop me a line on real paper at PO Box 5, Novi, MI 48376-0005.
Happy reading!
Dana Nussio
HER DARK WEB DEFENDER
Dana Nussio
Dana Nussio began telling “people stories” around the same time she started talking. She has been doing both things nonstop ever since. The award-winning newspaper reporter and features editor left her career while raising three daughters, but the stories followed her home as she discovered the joy of writing fiction. Now an award-winning fiction author as well, she loves telling emotional stories filled with honorable but flawed characters. Empty nesters, Dana and her husband of more than twenty-five years live in Michigan with two overfed cats, Leo the Wondercat and Annabelle Lee the Neurotic.
Books by Dana Nussio
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
True Blue
Shielded by the Lawman
Her Dark Web Defender
Harlequin Superromance
True Blue
Strength Under Fire
Falling for the Cop
Visit the Author Profile page at
Harlequin.com for more titles.
To my Writer Wednesday crew: Kathy Steck, Jacqui Gretzinger, Karen Kittrell, A.J. Norris, Greg Mahr, D.A. Henneman, Kathy Wheeler, Jeanne Tepper, Cheryl Smith and Liz Heiter. (Also, to Isabelle Drake, who’s going to make it one of these days.) Your love for your stories and your dedication to the craft inspire me.
A special thanks goes to Kim Moore, a retired FBI special agent who also just happens to be a childhood friend. I appreciate your opening your world to me. And thanks again to Michigan state police officer David Willett, who continues to take too many texted questions and still hasn’t blocked me. You are both real-life American heroes at a time when we really need them. My characters would salute you, and so do I.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Excerpt from Colton’s Secret Investigation by Justine Davis
Prologue
“Emily’s tongue was bluer than mine,” Kelly Roberts blurted in the back seat of the police car, the stinky blanket scratching her bare shoulders.
Why she’d thought of the raspberry slushes they’d been slurping just before it happened, she wasn’t sure, just as she couldn’t figure out why the lady cop sitting next to her kept patting her arm like she was her mom or something. That itched, too. And made her want to jump out of the car and run.
“You sure you’re warm enough?”
“I’m fine.” But she couldn’t stop shaking, even if it was the hottest day in June so far. She would never be warm again.
She let the officer pull the awful blanket high enough on her shoulders to cover most of her freckles and pressed her cheek against the window to get a better look outside.
Past the yellow tape that had been strung between two trees, Emily’s new lime-green mountain bike lay abandoned across the sidewalk. It had crashed there when the scary man leaped from behind the bushes and yanked her off the seat. Her cup was on its side, the melted drink a blue puddle on the concrete.
Something was clogging Kelly’s throat, and her eyes burned, so she shifted her head. If only her own purple, hand-me-down bike didn’t have to be in the next spot she looked. On the grass farther down the sidewalk. The exact same place where she’d dropped it when she’d unfrozen enough to scream. Once she’d started, she couldn’t stop.
“Your parents will be here in a couple of minutes. Do you think you can give a description... I mean tell us what the man who took your friend looked like?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
As if she could ever forget anything about him. The closed-lipped smile. That raspy voice and his tight jaw while Emily had kicked and scratched to escape, her black ponytail whipping from side to side. A movie villain come to life, with wild eyes and hairy arms. And the only person who could have helped her friend had been too scared to do anything but watch.
That strange lightness she’d had inside her belly a few times in the past half hour floated up again. Was that relief? What kind of friend was she to take comfort in the fact that the bad man had grabbed Emily instead of her? Was that why her eyes were dry when she should have been sobbing by now? Why the officer kept patting her ar
m and sneaking peeks at her face? No one could ever know the truth. That she was a bad person. That she cared only about herself.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’re going to find her.”
Kelly jerked her head to look back at her. She was nine. They couldn’t fool her. Police officers were supposed to tell the truth, and the lady was lying. How did she know, anyway? She hadn’t seen the meanness on the guy’s face. Or the fear in Emily’s enormous chocolate-colored eyes.
Stay quiet, or I’ll be back for you.
Kelly had skipped telling the police that part. If she had, it would have made what the man said real. She’d already disobeyed his instructions by calling for help. Telling the police about it, too, might make him keep his promise.
She turned to the window again, just as another police car, an ambulance and a truck that looked like her mom’s pulled up along the curb. They could ask all the questions they wanted to. They could search for clues and turn on their sirens and pretend that they could make everything better. But Kelly already knew the truth.
Emily was gone forever.
Chapter 1
Special Agent Anthony Lazzaro shoved open the door to the plain brick building and tromped to an office with the vague name, Arch Computer Consultants, Inc. He stabbed in the four numbers of the lock code that changed so frequently he sometimes forgot it and had to call one of the other team members to get inside.
Soon he wouldn’t have to remember it at all. The thought should have brightened the drab office walls, just as his formal request should have dulled the stark realities that the two rows of cubicles and the boards of photographs represented. He was finished with agonizing over his decision to transfer from the Innocent Images Task Force of the FBI Cyber Division. No more staring every day at this slimy underbelly of society. No more pretending it hadn’t changed him over the past six years and made him feel older than thirty-eight. No more lying.
Too bad he was stuck in purgatory a little longer.
“Hey, Tony. Ready for another day in the salt mine?”
Tony snarled at Eric Westerfield, but the younger man only grinned as he hurried toward him. The local deputy, who’d joined the task force a year earlier, had so much spring in his step that his coffee swilled over the brim of his paper cup. Wasn’t the guy ever in a bad mood? But the rush of cool air hitting Tony’s face told him Eric had already cranked the air-conditioning, which, by afternoon, would barely challenge the mid-July heat. At least he was good for something.
“Got my pickax and headlamp ready, so sure.” He patted his briefcase, where he’d concealed his .40 caliber Glock 22 in its padded holster with a thumb break for the trip from his rental car to the office. Out of habit, he immediately withdrew the weapon from the bag and locked it and the separate hip holster in his bottom desk drawer.
“Special Agent Dawson told me we’re getting a new task force member today.”
“I heard.”
He’d been livid, too. It was bad enough that Will Dawson, the administrative special agent on the task force, had refused to sign off on his transfer until they’d closed the current case. It centered on the murder of two eighteen-year-old girls and possibly involved cybercrimes. Now the team would be saddled with breaking in a new member during the most high-profile investigation they’d conducted in three years. And his last case on the task force.
“It’s a trooper from the Michigan State Police Brighton Post, since both victims were from Brighton. They referred the case to us in the first place.”
“Heard that, too.”
Tony strode toward the galley kitchen, where the office coffeepot served up hot sludge in daily doses. Though he hoped Eric wouldn’t follow, he did.
“I won’t be low man on the totem pole anymore.”
“Don’t worry.” He didn’t bother looking back as he poured. “You’ll still have your spot near the bottom.”
He didn’t miss the deputy’s emphasis on the word “man,” since they both were aware the new officer was female. Men and women were different on the job. Not better or worse, just different. He wasn’t looking forward to a changing team dynamic during his last few weeks in that office.
“Are we really going to use her voice for this case?”
“Guess so.” Another argument Tony had lost. The regular chats would have sufficed, but the others wouldn’t listen to his reasoning.
With a wave to Eric, he carried his stained Detroit Lions coffee mug past four cubicles, each equipped with laptops and external monitors and hard drives. Near the far window with blinds always kept closed, he sat at his own cramped square, where he could slip on his headset, enter the parallel universe of the Internet referred to as the Dark Web and pretend to be alone. He could do this. Just one more case, and he would be free.
But would he really be? The answer was as clear as all those faces painted on his memory. Some even smiled back at him from photos pinned to the bulletin board on his cubicle wall. A few of his failures, despite all his fancy computer equipment, education and supposed know-how. It was cruel punishment that he would work his final weeks alongside a task-force rookie probably still starry-eyed with convictions that justice could prevail and good could overcome evil. Things he used to believe.
“Do you think she’ll be ready for this?” Eric called from his own desk.
Tony had just fired up his computer and launched the Dark Web browser called Tor, but at his colleague’s question, he pushed in his chair.
“Are any of us?”
The click of the door saved either of them from having to answer that question. He stood and stepped outside his cubicle to get a better look. And there she was, entering the office with Deidre Elliot, the administrative assistant. She couldn’t have stuck out more in that navy-blue uniform shirt, lighter blue pants with a dark stripe, gray tie and the badge.
She probably tied her light-brown hair back so tight to look older, but nothing could mask that youthful blush that contrasted her ivory complexion. She didn’t appear much older than the girls whose deaths they were investigating. Legally, they were women, he guessed. Old enough to know better but too young to realize that their search for adventure could get them killed.
Deidre led the other woman toward them. “Hey, guys. I’d like to you meet our newest team member.”
“You must be Officer Kelly Roberts.”
Wide dark brown eyes stared back at him. She cleared her throat, her tongue slipping out to moisten her deep pink, full lips. Was she surprised that he knew the identity of the new team member? Well, she wasn’t the only one who’d received a shock just then as her simple, nervous reaction had jabbed him below the belt. What was that? He’d never had inappropriate physical reactions to female agents or officers before. He didn’t notice women at all.
Not anymore.
“Trooper.”
He cleared his throat and forced whatever that had been from his thoughts. “Excuse me?”
“It’s Trooper Roberts.”
“Right. I knew that.” Damn. He sounded as nervous as she appeared. This wasn’t a blind date. It was a case, and he owed it to the young women who’d lost their lives to focus on it and track down the suspect. “I’m Special Agent Anthony Lazzaro.”
She reached out her hand, but he nodded at her instead, so she lowered it.
“What’s with the uniform? How are we supposed to fly under the radar here with you showing up dressed in blue?”
He was being a jerk, but that was easier than telling her she filled out that boxy uniform in all the right places. He was looking for a transfer, not forced early retirement.
“Sorry. I didn’t know. I was just told where to report.”
“We’re plain clothes here.” He indicated the slacks, dress shirts and ties he and Eric wore.
“I see that. What about a weapon? Aren’t you required to carry one? I am.”
She nodded and continued to scan the rented office space that looked like hundreds of others in Livingston and nearby counties. Her gaze paused on the bulletin boards covered with photographs from current cases and a poster of the “FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives” list. Then she turned back to him.
“This is it?”
“Yeah, not much to speak of, is it?” Eric said as he stepped closer. “I’m Deputy Eric Westerfield of the Livingston County Sheriff’s Department.”
This time the two law enforcement officers shook hands, and Tony was almost sorry he hadn’t done the same. Almost.
“The FBI field office in Detroit rents this office space for us,” Eric continued. “But no one is supposed to know this is a task force office, and no one without specific business with us is even allowed inside.”
“Business with Arch Computer Consultants?”
“One of many fake names the FBI gives for its task force offices,” Eric explained.
“Are there just going to be four of us? I thought the task force was supposed to be—”
Tony shook his head to interrupt her. “Ten in all.” He pointed to the same number of cubicles. “Two FBI special agents and representatives from area law enforcement, Homeland Security and then administrative staff like Deidre.”
He hated having to explain information she already would have known if she’d just read the file.
“Where are they?”
“Some are catching a few hours of sleep since we’re working around-the-clock on this case.”
“Oh.” Her gaze flicked to Eric and then back to Tony. “Well, good. We need to stop this guy before he strikes again.”
“Are you saying we’re tracking a serial killer? Because we have no evidence to confirm that yet. We don’t jump to conclusions here. Our work is meticulous. Precise. We follow the evidence, and we don’t make stupid mistakes.”