Over Stimulated
Null Equation Book 2
Allyson Lindt
This book is a work of fiction.
While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Allyson Lindt
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by Mallory Rock
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Acelette Press
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Over Stimulated (Null Equation, #2)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About the Author
For my eternal dragon
Chapter One
Regardless of how bad things looked, panicking wouldn’t help them find a solution. “I don’t think they got anything,” Max said.
He flopped back on the mattress. “I don’t like the sound of I don’t think...”
She forced herself to reach for the discarded handheld, then grabbed the battery she’d tossed aside. Except, despite the voice chanting in her head to get on with it, she froze when it came to reassembling the device. “I’m locked down tight. No one should even see my machine, let alone be able to access it. And they knew how to power it on. They knew the right frequency. What if—”
“Stop.” Taylor sat up and grabbed her wrist. He knelt in front of her, lifted her chin, and forced her to meet his gaze. “Be clinical about this. Is it a big deal?”
His touch chased her ragged doubt away. “I don’t know if it’s a big deal or not. Either we’re seconds away from having our door busted down, or it’s a terrifying coincidence.”
The latter wasn’t likely, given what she was up to, but she needed to keep fear from immobilizing her.
He pressed his forehead to hers. “So what do we do?” he asked softly.
She wanted to dive into his comfort and lose herself in this moment. Too bad that this wasn’t one of her options. “Run?”
He clenched his jaw. “Are you sure you’re not overreacting?”
Shock raced through her at the dismissal—he never questioned her like this—and she scooted away on the bed, breaking the contact between them. “Someone was on my handheld. That’s not just rare, it never happens. You know that. How the fuck am I overreacting?” If Taylor thought it wasn’t a big deal, was she wrong?
He closed the distance between them again and settled next to her. “That didn’t come out the way I meant. It is serious. But our entire life is filled with unplanned bumps and unexpected problems. We don’t run in the middle of a job unless there’s no other choice.”
His words didn’t reassure her the way she hoped. “I have a bad feeling about this, Taylor.”
“We’ll be cautious.” He trailed a finger down her arm. “I’m not getting a bad vibe.”
“Which you wouldn’t, if there was another Null involved.” Vocalizing the concern made it that much more real and frayed her nerves another degree.
“Can we afford to run?”
The question snagged the gears of her rambling thoughts, and everything ground to a halt, centering around the conversation with OSF. Max hadn’t paid the deposit yet; she could still back out. She and Taylor couldn’t walk away, though. “No.”
“Then we watch our every movement, and we stay.” He made it sound so simple.
“I guess.” She didn’t want to relent. Then again, she didn’t want to be in this situation at all.
He brushed his lips over her forehead. The intimate contact caught her off guard. He’d never done that before. Sex was one thing, but this felt different.
She tilted her head, to press her mouth to his. The kiss, light and new, short-circuited her brain. Normally, He and she wrapped themselves up in each other when life was stressful. Sometimes it was the only way to escape this overcrowded world.
But she wanted to explore this new level of intimacy. Cross that barrier that lay between the physical and the emotional. Fall into the irrational desire to be, even just for a moment, the couple they pretended to be.
He broke away and searched her eyes, his expression unreadable. The blank look must be what it was like for him to see her, after feeling everyone around him all day. It was fucking frustrating.
She looked away first. Giving into a biological need for comfort wouldn’t erase their problems; it would complicate their relationship.
Her heart whimpered in protest, begging her to indulge. She slammed the door on the plea, but didn’t resist when Taylor shifted until he was behind her and pulled her into his lap. His sturdy chest pressed into her. “What will it take, for you to feel comfortable staying here tonight?” His gentle question vibrated against her skin.
Tension danced with desire until they were a muddy blur. “I have to know we’re not being tracked.”
He tightened his grip on her and brushed the edge of ear with his lips. A sharp dagger of want sliced through her. No. Bad. Now is not the time. There was never a time to feel this way.
“Is there anyone pounding down our door?” he asked.
“It’s not that simple. My proximity alarms aren’t in place, if my handheld is offline.”
He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Are we okay to reactivate it? You have to do that eventually, right?”
“Yes.” And she had to turn the handheld on, to see if they were being tracked.
“So log in, confirm we’re safe, and we’ll decide after that what to do.”
Damn it, he was being rational. “I guess.”
“We’ll be okay. I promise.”
She didn’t know how he could promise something like that. They’d never made that assumption before. “How do you know that?”
“I just do,” he said. “Run your checks, and you’ll see I’m right.”
SUNLIGHT. THAT WAS pleasant. Max turned her face toward the warmth. Behind her, Taylor muttered something but didn’t stir.
Wait. They had a room with a west-facing window, whenever possible. Having the glass on that side made it easier for Max to hop from one server to another, when she was spoofing connections. How long had she and Taylor slept?
A glance at the clock said it was three in the afternoon. No way.
After she brought her handheld online last night, she spent hours scouring her system, to make sure nothing beyond the machine had been accessed. When she felt secure, she reestablished her connection to the security cameras in the hotel and surrounding streets. She was up most of the night, only passing out when she was convinced they’d be okay for another couple of hours.
She couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. Now that she was thinking clearer, she turned to the forums.
After countless pages of reading, she constructed a theory. The access on her machine might have been another independent contractor. With P-72, there was a lot of freelance work surrounding the FDA, CDC, and anyone who could be blamed. Whoever stumbled on her yesterday probably thought she was an FDA user when they saw her on the network.
That didn’t necessarily mean she and Taylor were safe. It was time to get to work.
Taylor was going to have to get personal. T
ime to find out where and when.
The sun had almost reached the horizon, before the sheets rustled behind her. Seconds later, her mattress shifted. Taylor rested his palm against her back. “Good morning.” Sleep lined his greeting.
The familiar impulse to lean into him and pull his arms around her raced through her. Was she looking for a similar comfort as in the past, or for something more? She pushed the ridiculous question aside. “Same to you. How’d you sleep?”
His touch vanished, and seconds later, he flopped onto the bed next to her. He stretched his arms over his head, eyes squeezed shut. The posture elongated his long, slender frame, highlighting every inch of definition. She dragged her gaze away before it became staring.
“I’ve had better, but I’ve also had far worse. What’s on the agenda today, boss?” he asked.
She didn’t want to do this, but it came with the job. Taylor would be happy to have something to do. “Recon, if you’re interested.”
“On a Saturday?” His eyebrows rose. “Sure. Why not?”
She understood his hesitation. Weekend surveillance, which typically involved large public gatherings, was more chaotic. For the most part, business offices were calm. People had their heads down, and the stress might be there but it was a minimal assault on Taylor’s senses.
This was a no-choice situation, though. Since she couldn’t find any traces of anything even possibly unethical on a network, IasoChem was either the only corporation in history with a one-hundred-percent honest and upstanding staff, or they were impossibly efficient at covering their tracks.
Taylor’s job would be to get to know some of their employees. His empathy would let him read their emotions and drive the conversation. People said a lot more than they realized when they were relaxed and felt safe. And even if every single executive in the company had been trained to keep quiet, someone who interacted with them would slip.
“The CEO’s administrative assistant is going to be at a wine tasting this evening.” Alcohol didn’t hurt either, when it came to loosening their tongues. Max had picked someone who would be drinking, but hopefully not heavily.
Taylor wrinkled his nose. “Male or female?”
She hid her wince. “Male.”
Taylor had no problem flirting with anyone, but a drunk man’s emotions tended to wreak more havoc on his psyche.
“At least you found me a quiet, intimate setting.” He stood and brushed his lips over her forehead. “You’re too good to me.”
The kiss electrified her system. It would be amazing to lean into it. Maybe make it more than friendly. She reeled in her reaction. Almost a decade ago, she buried any romantic feelings for Taylor. Survival was more important than unrequited love.
She couldn’t completely suppress the desire to stay wrapped up with him. She had her spiders looking for the next job, and she and Taylor were dead in the water until tonight, work wise. She patted the mattress and projected a holoimage of a movie in the middle of the room. “You have a few more hours. Unless you need to prep.”
He sat behind her, pulled her into him, and interlocked his fingers against her breastbone. “I think this is the perfect way to get ready.”
MAX WANTED TO GO OUT. It wasn’t that she was a social person. Running, the inability to establish ties, and her awkwardness around people made that difficult. Sometimes, though, it was tough to be so isolated.
She could take her handheld down to the coffee shop on the corner and play a stupid game and watch people.
The risk of some Psy running into her and figuring out she was Null was low. Typically the concern didn’t register on her radar, but too many bizarre coincidences and close calls kept her hiding in the room.
Screw it. The streets were so crowded on a Saturday night, no one would notice one little Null spot amid all the chaos. Taylor would be at the wine tasting for hours, and she wasn’t in the mood to be alone with her thoughts.
Every step along the sidewalk was like swimming in a sea of people. It would be hard to run in this much foot traffic, but she’d also be difficult to follow. It took several minutes to reach the coffee shop on the corner, though it was less than a block away.
Usually the noise set her on edge, but today, mingling with the scent of roasted coffee and enough sugar she could almost taste it, it was pleasant to lose herself in.
She got a table near the far wall, next to the restrooms and with a clear view of the front door. A cup of coffee sat in front of her, next to a cinnamon roll almost as large as her head.
Her schedule was too tight for her to spend hours matching colors and shapes into nice neat lines in a mindless game. She should look for another job. Something quick and simple that she could do in the background, while she was waiting on IasoChem data. Or she could scan for more conspiracy theories about P-72. Which would probably make her more paranoid, but it would also keep her mind occupied.
The tiny speaker on her handheld chimed, and she frowned at the messenger icon flashing in the lower right corner of her screen. OSF, Taylor, and a handful of reliable online sources were the only people who knew this account existed, and this name didn’t belong to one of those sources.
No biggie. Someone stumbled on her by mistake. Or—
It didn’t matter what excuse she gave herself; no one should be able to find her. She clicked the icon and scanned the message.
It was me yesterday. Please don’t dc. Hear me out.
Disconnect. Now. The thought pounded in her skull.
That was probably one of her more dangerous options. Sure, this person discovered her screen name, so she needed to tread carefully, but she was one of the best in her field, and if this stranger could find her, she could do the same to them. She needed to, so she and Taylor could check one concern off their list.
Besides, people were more random with their secrets than computers. Maybe this person would slip. Give her something to point her in a direction.
I’m listening, she replied. With a few quick keystrokes, she sent out her spiders. She’d find his IP, which her bots told her was masked many times over. She’d discover where he was and if his location was any threat.
U spend alot of time on gvmt networks?
The direct question wound her more tightly. Never once. I thought only employees and contractors with clearance could do that.
Clever. So do you work for them?
Blatant, leading conversation. Inconsistent speech pattern. She clenched and unclenched her hands between keystrokes. I’m a waitress. Little place near Omaha. You’ve probably never heard of it.
There. Now she sounded as open as him.
I didn’t realize they’d lifted the travel restrictions there.
Her fingers froze over the infrared keyboard. She read about the ban on traveling the other day, except the deleted comments said there weren’t actually restrictions. Don’t know. I’m working too much to go anywhere.
Of course you are.
If condescension could carry online, it had just oozed out of her handheld. She went into this exchange making the wrong assumptions. He was guarded after all. So much for playing innocent.
Her spiders pinged. They’d gotten a solid lock on an IP. She clenched her teeth, and her chest twisted in on itself. He was local. This couldn’t be right. There had to be more spoofing going on, and it was all coincidence, right?
I’m wounded. The words flashed bright, glaring on her tiny screen. If you wanted to know where I was, you could have just asked.
The connection terminated, and her spiders ran into digital brick walls. She pushed them out again, tried every angle she could think of to reestablish the connection, but there was nothing left to find.
It was like he guessed every move she’d make. As though he expected her reactions. Which either meant she wasn’t as clever as she thought about hiding herself, or that he had some idea who he was dealing with. She wanted to believe it was the former. She could correct habits and change the way she approached online intera
ctions.
She bet it wasn’t that simple.
She shoved her coffee and food aside. There was no way she could eat anything tonight. Finding the stranger before he found her was critical, and she needed to step outside her familiar box to get that done. Too bad she didn’t have any idea what that entailed.
Chapter Two
Max found a different coffee shop the next afternoon, close to her old location so whoever was tracking her might think she was still in the same place. He’d picked her computer off a secure network, and for some reason singled her out. That made him scary and fascinating at the same time.
He went through a messenger service to contact her, and that meant there was a trail.
Taylor was on an official date with the assistant he talked to yesterday, at the wine tasting—or, as Taylor put it, “the sexy, suave motherfucker from corporate, who thought far too highly of himself”—so she had some time to dig.
Max ordered the largest cup of coffee she could, with extra espresso, but bypassed the sugar. Once again, she picked a table in the back of the room with a clear view of the entrance and a straight path to the rear exit. She liked this place better than the last one. Dim lights, music that smothered the never-ending babble instead of competing with it, and eclectic but comfortable furniture.
Moments later, she was studying the account that had contacted her. It had been deleted from the servers. She expected that, but even if he had the skill to access their systems and erase himself from the database—and she couldn’t let herself believe he was that good—there would be fingerprints. Transaction logs. IP addresses. A pattern.
Her messenger chimed, and her heart leaped into her throat. She took a few calming breaths when she saw Cypher6669’s name. They’d talked at least once a week since she was in her early twenties. They met during a time in her life when she wasn’t so cautious, and he hadn’t given her any reason to doubt him and dig deeper since.
You following the forums? Cypher6669 asked.
Over Stimulated Page 1
