Delta Force Defender

by Carol Ericson

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you...exactly. I’m just not comfortable bringing strangers to my place.”

  He rattled off her address and winked. “I already know where you live, Martha.”

  “This is all really creepy. How long have you been following me around DC? Maybe my feeling of being tailed was coming from you.”

  “I swear, I just started following you from the Langley bus stop today.”

  “How do you even know about the Langley bus stop?”

  “I have friends in high places.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Obviously not if you’re dogging a lowly translator.”

  “I mean it.” He grabbed her hands. “I want to see those emails. I know Denver. I’d be able to detect any falsehoods in those messages. I mean it’s all false, but I might be able to see something in the emails, some clue.”

  An edge of desperation had entered his voice, and the easygoing frat boy had morphed into this earnest man with the serious blue eyes, desperate to clear his commanding officer’s name.

  Despite herself, she felt a twinge of pity and then steeled herself against the emotion. Her father had always employed the same tone when trying to wheedle compassion from her.

  She blinked as Cam tugged on a lock of her hair. “C’mon, Martha. I saved you from an oncoming train. If you don’t want me in your personal space, you can bring your computer out to someplace neutral, if you have a laptop.”

  She inhaled the fresh, outdoorsy scent coming off him and counted the freckles on his nose. Cam already was in her personal space, and she didn’t mind one bit.

  “All right. I’ll take you back to my town house.”

  Cam waved at the waitress for the bill, and as soon as she plucked it from her apron, he snatched it from her fingers. “I’ll get this.”

  Martha didn’t even hesitate as she pulled a five and a ten from her wallet and flicked them onto the table. “That’s too much like paying for information. I’ll get my own wine.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cam raising his eyebrows at her, but she ignored him and stashed her wallet back in her purse. “Is it all there?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tucked his bills and hers beneath the candle on the table, along with the check. “Walking distance?”

  “You know my address.” She folded her arms, regretting her decision already.

  “I know your address, not the area, but I figured you were close if you got off at the Metro stop.” He pushed back from his chair and stepped to the side to let her go first.

  As she shuffled past him, she noted his height again. At five foot ten, she hit eye level with most men, but her nose practically brushed the chin of this one.

  When they reached the sidewalk, Cam hunched into his jacket and flipped up the collar against the wind. “It’s not gonna snow, is it?”

  “I hope not.” She peered at the light gray sky and pulled on her gloves. “That would be pretty unusual for November.”

  They walked along the busy Georgetown sidewalk, occasionally bumping shoulders, which oddly reassured her, although she couldn’t figure out why. Cam had the type of solid build that screamed strength and fitness. Physically, he could have his way with anyone, even a tall woman like her.

  She hunched her shoulders and stuffed an errant strand of hair back under her hat. Dream on, Martha. Cam was the type of guy who’d wheedled homework assignments out of her. Just like in college, she had something he wanted—just not her body.

  She stopped in front of the town house she owned but shared with a roommate, and grabbed the iron handrail. “I’m right here.”

  “Door right onto the street.”

  “Yeah? So what?” She fished her key from the side pocket of her purse, and for the first time in a while hoped her roommate, Casey, was on the other side of that door.

  “Not that safe.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, this is a nice area.”

  He looked up and down the street. “Lots of foot traffic though.”

  She looked up from turning the key in the lock. “I’m a very careful person.”

  “And yet, here I am.”

  She opened the door and blocked it with her body. “Are you telling me not to trust you? Because I can change my mind right here and now.”

  Casey yelled from the inside. “Close the door. You’re letting in the cold air.”

  “My roommate. Protection.” Martha jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

  “Good thinking.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “Now can we go in? It is cold out here.”

  Martha pushed into the room, and Cam followed on her heels.

  “I was just on my way...” Casey tripped to a stop in her high heels when she swung around and almost collided with Cam. “Well, hello there.”

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Casey, Cam. Cam, Casey, my roommate.”

  Casey stuck out her hand and wiggled her fingers, her long painted nails catching the light and glinting like she was casting a spell. “Nice to meet you. You’re the first guy Martha’s ever brought home.”

  The heat washed up Martha’s face, and she ground her teeth together. “It’s not like that. He’s not a guy.”

  Casey fluttered her long—fake—eyelashes as she gave Cam the once-over. “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “I think what Martha means—” he hooked his arm around Martha’s neck in a total buddy move and pulled her close “—is we’re just friends.”

  “Of course you are.” Casey turned toward the kitchen, giving Cam a view of her derriere in her tight dress. “Do you want a beer?”

  “I thought you were going out?” Martha ducked out of Cam’s hold and shed her coat.

  “Just showing a little hospitality.”

  “Don’t worry about it. He’s my guest. I can get him a beer if he wants one.”

  “I’m good.” Cam held out one hand as if refereeing an MMA fight. “We don’t want to hold you up, Casey. Nice meeting you.”

  Her roommate’s pretty face fell, and Martha couldn’t help the little spark of satisfaction that flared in her belly. “Have fun, Casey.”

  “Nice meeting you, Cam.” She swept up her coat from the back of a chair. “Hope to see you again sometime.”

  The door slammed behind Casey in a gust of perfume and hairspray.

  Cam cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not a good friend, I take it?”

  “Not a friend at all, and she’s a horrible roommate—messy, noisy, brings guys back here all the time.”

  “And you mean guys.”

  “Yeah. She’s a real pain.”

  “Move.”

  “It’s my place.”

  Cam’s gaze flicked around the town house, still sporting the expensive furnishings Mom had favored and she couldn’t afford to replace. “Government’s paying some solid wages.”

  “Anyway, I can’t just move.” She had no intention of getting into her personal finances—or her notorious background—with Cam.

  “Kick her out.”

  “She signed a lease.”

  “How long?”

  “Four more months. I think she’s gearing up to move out anyway.”

  “I’m sure you’re counting the days.” He clapped his hands once and she jumped. “The emails?”

  “Do you want a beer? Or something else?”

  “Just some water.” He tipped his head at the door. “She doesn’t know about the messages, does she?”

  “Casey?” Martha snorted. “No. She wouldn’t care, anyway. She’s in DC to sleep around and maybe snag a book deal, and she has a good start on both.”

  “Who knew the capital was such a cesspool.”

  “I hope you’re kidding.” She strode into the kitchen and reached for a glass. As ice dispensed from the fridge, Cam join
ed her in the kitchen, making the space feel claustrophobic.

  “I am kidding, and I’m convinced someone, somewhere in this cesspool has it out for Major Denver.” He took the glass from her hand, his fingers brushing hers and giving her a jolt.

  Leaning her hip against the kitchen counter, she tucked the hand behind her back. “Why would they have it out for him? Why frame him? By all accounts, he’s a good soldier.”

  “The best and maybe that’s why.” He gulped down the water. “Maybe he stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have.”

  “Again, that could point to a foreign entity.”

  “I agree, especially after what you told me about the emails, which are...”

  “On my laptop.” She brushed past him. “In my bedroom”

  Leaving him in the kitchen, she jogged upstairs and pulled the door closed on Casey’s messy room. She ducked into her own room, swept her laptop from the desk and tucked it under her arm. By the time she got downstairs, Cam had settled on the sofa in the living room, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

  She sat next to him and opened her computer. “I put them in a folder on my hard drive.”

  “Where’s the flash drive? You copied them to a flash drive when you stole them, right?”

  She tapped the keyboard harder than she intended. “I didn’t steal them. They were addressed to me.”

  “Addressed to your CIA address, but I’m not judging. Hey, I’m glad you did steal...take them, but where’s the original flash drive?”

  “It’s in a safe in the office.”

  Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Cam asked, “This place has an office, too?”

  “Yes.” She zipped her lip and double-clicked on the folder holding the emails. “Is that secure enough for you?”

  “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to have the messages in two places. You’re doubling the opportunity for someone to take them.”

  “Why would anyone else want them? The CIA already has them.” She pointed to her screen. “This is the first of the three emails I received.”

  Cam moved in closer and his warm breath bathed her cheek as he read the email aloud, slowly. “‘Look at Major Rex Denver, Army Delta Force, and track his actions and communications. You will understand his behavior as treason. He has many contacts in region.’”

  “Sounds stilted, doesn’t it?”

  “Wow.” Cam slumped back and kicked one foot on top of her coffee table. “That’s enough to raise suspicion and get you investigated? Good thing nobody ever sent the CIA information about my activities.”

  “There are two more emails with more details.” Her hand hovered over the keyboard. “Your activities?”

  “Not treasonous. I’m just saying stuff happens in the field, and it’s better for everyone if it stays in the field.” His hand dropped to her head, and he messed up her hair with his fingers. “Don’t worry. I’m not doing anything to compromise national security—and neither was Major Denver.”

  She jerked away from him with a scowl, smoothing her wavy hair back into place. “Do you mind?”

  “Sorry. I have a younger sister, and I’m accustomed to teasing her.” He tapped the keyboard. “Next email.”

  She huffed out a breath as she opened the second email. Great. The hottest guy she’d run into in months thought of her as a little sister. Typical.

  Tipping the display toward him, she drew back and watched his profile as he digested the next message, his lips moving silently as he read it, his finger following the words. He must’ve read it a few times, as it took him a while to peel his eyes from the display. When he did, his jaw hardened and his eye twitched.

  For all his carefree, easygoing ways, Cam really did care about Denver, and a strong desire to help him clear his commanding officer washed over her. She hated seeing anyone unfairly accused, and she’d had a feeling about these bogus emails ever since they landed in her inbox.

  “Worse, huh?” She reached across him and opened the final email.

  Cam took his time reading this one, as well, and when he finished, he punched the pillow next to him. “This is such garbage. All the CIA had to do was ask anyone who’s ever served with the major. Even now nobody in the field believes Denver was conspiring with terrorists.”

  “Why’d he take off? Why didn’t he just face the music and prove his innocence?”

  “It’s not supposed to work that way, is it? As a suspect, you don’t have to prove anything. It’s up to the prosecution to come up with the evidence to convict you. I’m guessing Denver recognized a setup when he saw one and figured the fix was in. There’s no fighting against that when evidence is fabricated.”

  “He should’ve trusted the system.” She jutted her chin.

  “Really?” He bumped her knee with his own. “Like you did? C’mon, even someone like you knows there are times when the system breaks down and you have to take matters into your own hands.”

  “Even someone like me.” She drummed her fingers on the edge of the laptop.

  He cleared his throat. “You know, someone who likes to follow the rules...which is usually a good idea. I’m not knocking it.”

  “No offense taken. I have my reasons.” She shoved the computer from her lap to the coffee table. “I’m just wondering how someone knew to target me.”

  “The CIA must’ve investigated the source of the emails. Let me guess. Fake IP address?”

  “Yes, which they wrote off as coming from Dreadworm.”

  “So the sender got a bunch of CIA email addresses from Dreadworm, picked one at random and sent out these lies about Denver? I don’t believe that for a minute, do you?”

  “No, I think I was specifically targeted, but I don’t know why I’m being harassed now. I did what the sender expected and wanted me to do.” She shoved at her laptop with the toe of her boot.

  “Because somehow they know you still have the emails, and they don’t like that.” He sat forward and dragged the computer to the edge of the coffee table. “You’re not quite the good little soldier they anticipated.”

  “Serves them right.” She grabbed Cam’s water glass. “Do you want more water or something else?”

  He held up one finger. “Does this LED light on your laptop monitor blink like this all the time?”

  She squinted at the blue light at the tip of his finger. “I don’t know. I guess so. Doesn’t that just mean it’s on?”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” He pulled the computer onto his legs and started clicking around.

  “What are you doing?” She wrapped her hands around the glass. “Are you some kind of computer whiz, too?”

  “No, but...” He dragged an icon from a system folder onto her desktop and turned toward her, his face tight. “This is a Trojan, and someone’s watching you...us, right now through your computer’s camera.”

  Chapter Four

  Martha swallowed. Her gaze darted from Cam’s blue eyes to the blue eye on her laptop. She snapped shut the computer. “How do you know that?”

  “Shutting it solves the problem right this second, but that Trojan’s gonna have to be removed from your computer as soon as possible. It’s not just computer keystrokes and actions. The person on the other side can see you as long as your laptop is open and powered on.”

  “Oh my God.” She covered her mouth. “I wonder how long this has been going on.”

  “A tech can probably tell you that by looking at the program. It’ll have a date on it.”

  “But how did you know? How did you know where to look?” The veil of her preconceived notions about Cam Sutton lifted—and she liked what she saw even more. Brawn and brains.

  “About a year ago, my sister was being stalked.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It became apparent that her stalker was watching her in her private moments. One of her friends, a real computer geek, came
over to inspect her computer. First she watched for the blinking LED, and then she did a search for a common Trojan used to infect the computer and allowing an outside source to gain control of it. I looked for and found that same virus on your laptop.”

  Martha’s mind raced and reeled over the times she’d had her laptop open in her bedroom, not bothering to shut it down. She hugged herself, digging her fingers into her upper arms. “Get it off. Can you get it off?”

  “I can delete it. Hell, you can delete it, but I don’t know if that removes it from everywhere. It’s probably best if you take the laptop in or call someone to do it.” Cam tapped his chin with his index finger. “I wonder if they could hear us, too.”

  “At least we were spared that. The microphone on my laptop doesn’t work. No sound in. No sound out.”

  “That’s an unexpected bonus.” He hunched forward, digging his elbows into his knees. “Whoever was watching you saw me, but at least that person won’t know who I am and how I’m connected to Denver.”

  She handed him the glass and pushed at his solid shoulder. “Put that in the sink or get yourself more. I’m going to open this up and delete that program. Then I’ll take my computer in and get the virus removed from everywhere else.”

  Glass in hand, Cam pushed up from the sofa while Martha flipped open the laptop, keeping her thumb over the camera lens. She gasped and nearly drove her finger through her computer as a parade of skulls and crossbones marched across her display, the word busted floating between the grinning teeth.

  Cam clinked the glass on the countertop. “What’s wrong?”

  “Come and look at this. He knows I...you discovered the commandeered camera. He’s admitting he’s busted.”

  “Son of a gun.” Cam hovered over her shoulder. “Cheeky bastard.”

  “I wish I could just communicate with him and ask him what he wants. Oh.” Martha put her fingers to her lips as her email icon blinked, indicating a new message. “Maybe I can.”

  “If you open that email, don’t click on any links. That’s how your computer gets infected. He might be trying to load something even more insidious on your laptop.”

  “More insidious than a program to take over my camera to spy on me? That would be hard.”