No Time for Surprises (The No Brides Club Book 6)

by Karen McCullough

  “I’m sure you helped, though.”

  The email from Dan, asking everyone to report to the Spieler building at two the next day, came in around ten, causing plenty of talk and speculation among the people remaining in the office. Julie told them what she knew, but it didn’t begin to answer all the questions everyone had.

  By the end of the day, they’d made progress, but not as much as Julie had hoped.

  Friday wasn’t much better. Everyone still working for C&W had questions about the Spieler office, the people, the layout, the atmosphere, and at the most basic level, how to get there. Julie went for a quick walk around the city during lunch just to escape the chatter and let her mind clear.

  They went in a group to the Spieler offices, crowding into a subway car and following Julie the two blocks from the stop to the building. Dan met them as they entered and hustled them all to a large conference room to explain how the office move would be handled and warn it would take place over the following week. He introduced several group managers, and those people took their new employees to their individual areas.

  When they were down to just her, Maureen, and Stan, Dan himself took them to the corner area around the main computer room. They each had assigned cubicles just outside the control center. Julie appreciated that her space was well away from where she’d worked in her previous stint with the company. For the next hour, they discussed the setup and the connections they’d need as well as when company computers and peripherals would be moved.

  As they wrapped it up, Dan drew her aside. “It took a while, but we finally nailed the source of the intrusion. One of the inside sales people opened an email attachment with a virus. We’ve had a talk with him about caution in opening anything. I checked the original email and it was pretty well done, but there were clues it was bogus, if he’d just taken the time to look for them.”

  “It can be hard for non-techie people to spot those things, though.”

  Dan sighed. “I know. I’ve sent out warnings before, but I don’t think people pay much attention. I’m working up an email now to everyone in the office. I think we need more, though. Maybe a presentation showing what to look for.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “Another thing to put on the to-do list. As if it’s not long enough already.”

  She took a good look at him and noted signs of stress in the lines around his mouth and nose and the shadows under his eyes. “You look tired. Are you working overtime?”

  His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “It’s been a busy week. And it will probably continue into the weekend.”

  SHE HAD a lot on her mind, considering the possible difficulties of working the Spieler office as well as options to pursue in her future, which was why she did something New Yorkers usually don’t. Julie failed to pay attention to her surroundings as she walked the couple of blocks from the subway station to her building that evening. Too late, she heard the squeak of sneakered footsteps approaching quickly from behind, felt a brush of contact at her back, and recognized what they meant. When a hand reached out and snagged the strap of her laptop case, however, she reacted by wrapping both arms around it and holding it tightly to her body. The force of the would-be purse snatcher as he passed by hanging onto the strap of her bag dragged her forward until she fell onto her face with the case beneath her.

  CHAPTER 11

  P eople on the sidewalk nearby shouted or yelled. The thief was now in front of her, turned sideways as he tried to wrestle the bag from her grasp. A couple of men nearby approached, and the purse snatcher finally recognized the danger, let go, and took off at a run. One man pursued him, but quickly gave up and came back.

  A crowd gathered around her, with some telling her to stay still and others attempting to help her to her feet. “I’m okay,” she tried to assure people, though stinging pains in her cheek, knees, and elbows argued for at least minor injuries. With some help, she got to a sitting position. She worked her legs, glad to find both functioned, though scraped places on her knees had begun to ooze.

  “I’ve called 9-1-1,” one person said. At that, several others walked off. Two women and a man stayed with her as the crowd passing on the sidewalk parted and swerved around them. A police car pulled up to the curb moments later and stopped in a ‘no parking’ zone. A large, middle-aged officer got out and came over. “What happened?” he asked.

  People around her reacted, babbling out their versions of the events until the policeman held up a hand. He looked at Julie. “You’re the victim, I presume? Want to fill me in?”

  She told him what had happened.

  “How bad are you hurt?” he asked. “You need an ambulance?”

  “No! Nothing’s broken but my pride. I just need to go home and get some disinfectant on the scrapes.” She looked at the people around her. “Can you help me up?”

  With their assistance, she struggled to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but they held her up. She hugged the laptop bag close to her chest, blessing the manufacturer for the sturdy straps.

  He looked down. “Yeah, that knee don’t look too good. Sure you don’t want to get checked out? I can get an ambulance here.”

  “Very sure.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. Can you describe the person?”

  “By the time I realized what was happening, I was face-down on the sidewalk.”

  The officer looked around at the others. “Anyone get a good look at the guy?”

  “He was kind of tall and thin,” one woman volunteered.

  “Had on a baseball cap. Yankees. Pulled down low over his face. And a blue sweatshirt,” another offered.

  “Not much help. Anyone get a look at his face?”

  They all shook their heads. The officer sighed and made a few notes. “Not gonna be a whole lot I can about this without more description. Probably not much anyway. But you can come down to the station if you want and file a report. Might need to if your laptop is broken or you got worse injuries that need to be treated.”

  “Oh dear heaven, please no,” she muttered under her breath.

  “You live near here?” he asked.

  “Just up the street.”

  “I’ll give you a lift to your building. I gotta get some information from you to fill out the reports anyway.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  The two-block drive to her apartment only took a few minutes, but long enough for her to start to feel aches and pain from bruises she hadn’t been aware of initially. After thanking the officer and giving him her name, address, and phone number, she hobbled into her building and over to the elevator to her floor.

  The moment she was in the door of the apartment, she pulled out her laptop and opened it. Everything appeared intact, but she held her breath as it booted up. Apparently the padding in the laptop bag did its job and kept the computer from damage. It seemed to be working fine, connecting to her own network, and then loading email when she requested it. She let out a long breath and went to the bathroom to take a dose of ibuprofen and clean up her injuries.

  Repairs took a while since her clothes were shredded and starting to stick to some of the scrapes. The worst damage appeared to be to her knees. Both had large abraded areas with bruises behind them. Though they supported her weight, neither was happy about bending.

  Her left elbow was scraped as well as the back of her right hand. Those abrasions made it harder to clean up everything else since it stung every time she flexed the fingers.

  The scrape on her cheek was ugly, compounded by a dark bruise starting to form around it. How much makeup would it take to cover that one? Probably too much and even that wouldn’t hide enough to prevent all sorts of comments from co-workers. A split in her top lip wasn’t bleeding but had begun to swell.

  Washing the abrasions until she felt sure she had all the sidewalk debris cleaned from them took more than an hour and every bit of self-discipline she could muster. And then she realized she didn’t have enough bandages to begin to
cover them all. Nor did she have the energy to go out and try to buy some.

  The clock said five to nine when she finally finished mopping up as best she could. Her stomach emitted a loud rumble, reminding her that dinner was way overdue. Fortunately she kept a stock of microwaveable meals in the freezer.

  The beef with gravy and mashed potatoes wasn’t gourmet food, but it tasted surprisingly good and filled her stomach, even though she had to eat carefully to avoid her sore lip. By then the ibuprofen had started to kick in and the aches abated somewhat. She might actually be able to sleep. Thank heaven the next day was Saturday.

  But she found herself shaking all over when she settled in to watch some television. She flipped it off with the remote and pulled out her cell phone.

  Her long-time best buddy and confidante, Kate answered on the third buzz.

  “Julie? What’s up? Something wrong?” Of course Kate would be surprised to get a call from her on a Friday night. She was probably with her new flame.

  “I’m sorry, are you with Jon?”

  “Yeah, but you know you can always interrupt.”

  “This isn’t really an emergency, but... I just need to vent a bit.”

  “What’s the matter? You sound peculiar. Problems at work?”

  “Not work. I got mugged this evening. A purse-snatcher tried to grab my laptop bag on the way home. I’m not really hurt. I mean I have scrapes and bruises but nothing serious. I’m just…shaken up.”

  “Good heavens! I’ll bet you are. Tell me what happened. All the details,” Kate demanded.

  “Oh, dear heaven,” she said when Julie finished. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the emergency room? You need me to come over there and go with you? Or help patch you up?”

  “No. This is an I-need-to-tell-my-best-friend-all-about-it sort of emergency, not an I-need-you-to-drop-everything-and-get-over-here crisis. Especially not when you’re hanging with Jon.”

  “He’d understand.”

  “I know, but it’s really not needed. I feel better just talking to you about it. I’m going to bed shortly anyway, and I think I’ll be able to sleep now. I’m pooped, and the ibuprofen is kicking in.”

  “Okay,” Kate said. “You have any big plans for tomorrow?”

  “No, thank goodness. Even if I did, I’d be changing them. It looks like a good day to laze around, catch up on my Netflix list, and read a good book. I hope I have a couple in my pile.”

  “You’re sure you don’t need me to swing by tomorrow?”

  “No. That’s fine.”

  “Okay.” Kate still sounded dubious. “Take care of yourself. And really, call if you need anything.”

  “Got it.”

  She had to lie on her back on top of the sheets to keep them from rubbing at the scrapes, but exhaustion did claim her quickly.

  CHAPTER 12

  When she woke at seven, she was so stiff and sore she could barely get out of bed and stagger to the bathroom for more ibuprofen. She needed a shower but dreaded it—with good reason. She could only stand the warm water beating on her chewed-up skin long enough to quickly work some shampoo into her hair and rinse it out again. Clothing required careful choices.

  After a quick bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, she settled at the table to check her email. Moments later, her phone buzzed, and the caller ID showed it was Dan.

  “Still working on the leak investigation,” he said after identifying himself. “I have a question for you. Back when you worked for Spieler, did anyone from outside ever approach you about discussing the code? Someone said you were at a conference and might have talked about it there?”

  “Conference?” She thought back and finally wrestled the memory into place. “Oh, the developer’s conference at the Javits. But I can’t remember that I talked about anything I was working on at the time.” She struggled to keep the words coming from her puffy lips from sounding slurred or muffled.

  “Can you remember if anyone asked you about it?”

  “I’m pretty sure a couple of people did, but I don’t think I said anything specific.” Crap, she couldn’t keep from lisping on some of the words.

  There was a moment’s silence at the other end before he asked, “Do you remember any specific names?”

  “I think so.” Only it came out as “tho” rather than “so.”

  He definitely heard it this time. His tone changed from curiosity to concern. “Julie? Is something wrong? You sound odd. What’s the matter?”

  She sighed. “This is… Well, it’s stupid and irritating and I’m mad at myself about it. I sort of got mugged last night.”

  “You what?” The words were sharp, shocked. “What do you mean ‘sort of got mugged’? What happened?”

  She told him about the previous evening’s excitement and the outcome. He muttered something under his breath, and she thought she caught a few swear words in there. When she finished he said, “You should’ve let them take you to the hospital to check you out.”

  “No. It’s not that bad. Nothing’s broken. No bones, at least. Lots of scrapes and bruises. I look kind of a mess. And I’m really stiff.”

  “Okay.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve got some more questions for you, but I’d rather ask them in person. How about I put together an entertain-the-invalid kit and come over for a bit? Can you handle that?”

  “Why? I mean, you don’t need to do that. You can ask me questions on the phone.”

  “I know, but I can’t see your face. I can’t see how you’re feeling. This isn’t about need. It’s about wanting to help a friend.”

  “Oh.” Put that way, it would be churlish of her to refuse. “What’s in the kit?”

  “Surprises. You have to let me come to find out.”

  “That’s a pretty strong inducement. But I really do look kind of a mess,” she said. “I’ve got scrapes on my face.”

  “I’m squeamish about blood, but I promise not to scream and run in the other direction.”

  Even smiling hurt. “Okay. Can I ask a favor then?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve fighting dragons or dancing in public.”

  “Ouch. It hurts when I laugh. No dragons or dancing. Would you stop on the way and pick up some antiseptic and bandages? I don’t have very much around and didn’t feel like going out to get more last night.”

  “I’ll fight my way through the dragons to the drug store.”

  “You have a dragon obsession.”

  “Phobia,” he said. “Lizards of any size or description.”

  He did. She’d forgotten about the one they’d found on a beach trip several years ago. She didn’t think a guy would freak out about a small creature like that but finding a little lizard in the beach house’s bathroom had rattled him.

  “There shouldn’t be any of those in the drug store. If there are, you’re in the wrong place.”

  “True. And done. Look for me in an hour or so.”

  “Okay.” She took a hard look at herself in the mirror and decided makeup would be hopeless against the long, ugly scrape down the left side of her cheek. She straightened up a few things, washed her breakfast dishes, and set the coffee pot to brew a few more cups.

  She buzzed him in when he arrived and waited for him to get to the door.

  “Holy smoke, you weren’t kidding,” he said, studying her face as he stepped inside. He dropped the well-stuffed backpack on the floor and looked her over. “Are you sure nothing’s broken? You’ve got some really glaring bruises.”

  “I know. But legs and arms all work and nothing hurts badly enough to indicate a break.”

  “You look like you got dragged along the sidewalk.”

  “I guess I was for a bit. He was pulling on the strap of the laptop case and I wouldn’t let go of it.”

  “I assume the laptop survived.”

  “First thing I checked. It’s fine.”

  “It would be.” He stopped to pull several packages of gauze and bandages of varying shapes and sizes
from the backpack, along with a tube of ointment and a bottle of pain relievers. “I got everything the pharmacist recommended for someone who’d been mugged. Some of those scrapes look like they could use more work. Did you put ice on your face? Or your knees?”

  “No. Didn’t think of it.” The sight of Dan in polo shirt and cargo shorts, eyes narrowed in concern, hair falling forward over his face, brought back a host of memories. Bike rides, hikes, the trip to the beach with a few friends that last summer they were together... It swirled in her gut and rubbed on raw places. Pain that had nothing to do with her injuries stabbed at her. She wished she could bring herself to be rude and tell him to leave.

  “The pharmacist recommended ice for the bruises.”

  “Probably too late now,” she said.

  “Should try it anyway,” he answered. “Maybe later. First, though, you didn’t do a good job of cleaning up your hand. That looks like it would be hard to reach.”

  “Dan—”

  “At least let me help get those scrapes cleaned up. You don’t want them to get infected.”

  She hated that he made a good argument. She hated herself because she was going to let him help her. Her stiff posture as she led the way to her tiny bathroom didn’t happen just because her knees ached.

  Even though she knew he hadn’t been lying about being squeamish around blood, he spent the next half hour helping her reclean some of the scrapes and put antiseptic ointment and new bandages on them. His fingers were warm and gentle as they brushed over her skin. It should have been an impersonal touch, but she doubted that could ever happen between the two of them. Every time he touched her hand or arm or leg, small jolts of electric awareness radiated from the site. Those hurt more than cleaning her wounds ever could.

  If he felt the same, he gave no indication, but something in his tense stance and sternly controlled expression told her he did. And found the heat between them just as awkward as she did. His lips pressed together in a grim line as he worked.