She wouldn’t sell her integrity by joining forces with an unethical stranger, no matter how attractive, charming, and desirable he might be. If that was the case, she’d be better off throwing in the towel right there and then. Sighing, Cassandra stood. She headed for the door. Placing her sunglasses back on her face, she reached for the door handle. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Bauer.”
When she tried to pull the door open, Trevor’s hand pressed against it, holding it closed. Turning around, Cassandra found herself trapped by his body. She sucked in a deep breath and his fresh clean scent flooded her senses and left warmth pooling low in her belly.
“I’m not done yet, Ms. James.” His breath caressed her lips and she, in turn, licked hers.
“I didn’t count on having to deal with an opportunistic request, Mr. Bauer. I have nothing to give you in exchange for your help. You might as well let me leave,” she retorted coldly.
“Let me be the judge of that. And, for the record, I wasn’t talking about money. Tell you what. I’ll think about it. I’ll get back to you with my answer within the next twenty-four hours.”
Cassandra was shaken by how the heat of his body affected her and it took a moment for her to process what he had just said. It meant that she might have been right about him after all. It didn’t change that she had a strange sense of anticipation at the thought of what he could possibly want as payment. At least he said he’d think about it. A stream of relief coursed through her. “Thank you for even considering it. I know we got off to a rough start; I hope that doesn’t influence you to say no.”
Trevor’s blood pulsed with a need to press his body against hers. Although he couldn’t see her eyes through the stunners, he could see the pulse at the base of her throat beating a mile a minute. Good, he thought as he pushed away from the door, took a step back, and opened it for her. “I’ll try not to.”
“Here’s my card with my cell and home phone numbers, along with my email. I look forward to hearing from you.” Cassandra walked out.
Trevor took the card from her and quickly placed it in his pocket. There was no way in hell he was misplacing that little gift. Watching her walk away for the second time, he suddenly called out, “Wait!”
“What?” she called back.
“You never answered my question regarding which team you’re on.”
Her laughter was like music to his ears. “That’s the question of the day, Bauer. You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” she said, climbing into the car.
“Oh, I plan on it, Ms. James,” he said quietly to himself as he watched her drive away. “You can count on it.”
Chapter Twelve
The Evil Inside
Carl Kenyon was a typical “go-to guy” with a bad attitude. Clients liked him because he delivered results. He always did what it took to get the job done and had no qualms regarding the methods he had to use to do it—even it if got messy.
He paced his stuffy hotel room, trying to find the courage to make the call he had been dreading. He had messed up that job. Now it was time to own up to it. His boss wouldn’t be happy about it, that’s for sure.
Carl sat on the bed and picked up the cell phone with which he had been equipped. He dialed the pre-programmed number as instructed and waited for the call to be connected. The voice on the other side was curt. The man sounded as if he was irritated by the interruption.
Just the thought of Boss’s reaction to his news caused sweat to bead at his temple and roll down the side of his face. Carl rubbed his chin on his shoulder to catch the drops, took a deep breath, and cut to the chase. “Good morning, Boss.” Carl continued with a polite front in hopes of derailing Boss’s anger, “Sorry to call so abruptly and without notice. I needed to let you know the latest developments in the case.”
The voice at the other end peppered him with questions. “Still in Italy, sir,” he paused to wipe his brow and take a deep breath before adding, “Actually, that’s what I called about. I am having a bit of difficulty with Ms. Davis. It seems she’s changed her mind. She doesn’t want to cooperate anymore.”
The voice in his ear was outraged and demanded an explanation. Carl kept his own calm to avoid putting his neck further on the line and simply stated the facts. “That’s what she told me, Boss. No explanation. She said she had changed her mind. She didn’t even bring the hard drive to the meet.”
“She’s disappeared. I can’t find her. Been scouring Milan for the last two days,” Carl replied to his next question promptly; “I believe she is still in Italy, in hiding.”
The angry tone on the other end of the call scratched along his nerves. Carl wanted to yell back and rub Boss’s nose in the fact that the he had provided Carl with inaccurate information with regard to Allison Davis.
He was told the woman was as gullible as they come. He knew she was naïve. She had believed him when he had used his knowledge of her charitable work and beliefs of a better world to gain her cooperation. But he discovered that she also had brains. She had been instantly suspicious, questioning him when they met for the exchange. During the conversation, Carl had made comments that had woken Allison to the reality of the world—it was dog-eat-dog.
When Ms. Davis had set her foot down, refusing to hand over the files until he gave her more details regarding the identity of the buyer, he knew he was screwed. Before he could stop her, she had run, disappearing into the crowd. He had not been able to make contact with her since; she was not answering or returning his calls.
Carl was scrambling to find her trail, but, more and more, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. For the first time since he had started in this line of work, he was out of his element, with no resources at his disposal. Had they been in the States, she would have been in his hands before she could have blinked an eye.
Carl blamed his boss for the mess in which he found himself. Had he been told the woman was not a bimbo, he would have handled her differently—played to her vices instead of ridiculing them. Carl contained his own anger and knew there was no point in confronting his boss about his failure to communicate. He then took into account who his boss was, how well connected he was with people on both sides of the track. Carl knew the man was a bigwig with no scruples. He was someone who would do whatever it took to take possession of the files without dirtying his hands in the process—that was where Carl came in. Boss needed him, but Carl was also a realist. If he didn’t handle this little job, Boss would find someone else who could.
Boss’s rage reached across the line and scorched him. He was seething. Carl was happy he was across the Atlantic instead of in front of him. By his tone, Carl knew that if they had been face to face he would have been on the receiving end of a stranglehold.
Carl continued to listen to his tirade and instructions. When there was a pause on the other end, he jumped in: “Yes, sir. I understand. I will be in contact regularly.” When Boss slammed the phone in the cradle, Carl inhaled deeply and set the cell phone on the side table.
He raked his fingers through his hair and stood to pace the small hotel room, racking his brain for a way to locate the woman. He had to find her and get those files, no matter what it took.
Carl’s attention locked on another fact that had until then escaped his notice: the files were valuable. Extremely valuable, if Boss’s reaction was any gauge to go by. Carl’s mind burst with brand new possibilities. If he could find Ms. Davis and retrieve the files, he could approach companies directly—sell the drive to the highest bidder. It would mean he would have to take on a new identity, but the payoff would be more than worth it. Besides, he had nothing to lose. He smiled for the first time in weeks. He had been telling the truth when he had told Ms. Davis it was a dog-eat-dog world out there. Only this time around, he would be the dog doing the eating.
****
Carl’s employer slammed the phone down, sat back in his plush leather chair, and ran through the many names of the people he could contact to take over Carl
’s job. He had come highly recommended, but he was not living up to his reputation. Boss was now in a position where he was being forced to bring in a new player. Things get complicated when too many people are involved in law-breaking schemes—too many palms to grease, too many loose lips. He didn’t like it one bit.
He turned his chair to face the massive glass window behind his desk and gathered his thoughts. He would give Carl some more time to correct the problem, but if he failed again, he would be forced to bring in the big guns—a professional cleaner. This time, to eliminate two problems: Allison and Carl.
Chapter Thirteen
Voilá
Trevor had already known he was going to help her with that mission of hers even before he had said the words “I plan on it.” It had taken everything he had to stop himself from reaching for his cell to call her as she drove around the corner. He couldn’t in his right mind ignore that there was something to be explored—his mother hadn’t raised a fool—and he was determined to find out what it was.
He checked the clock on his cell phone and realized he no longer had time for his usual laps in the pool. His discussion with Cassandra had taken longer than expected; he would have to rush. He grabbed his bike from the garage and headed straight to work.
****
Trevor arrived in the control room to find George deep into analysis. After their usual morning chitchat, Trevor rolled into his regular routine, trying to keep his mind off Cassandra James. He managed to successfully push her to the back of his mind until lunchtime.
Ready for a break and some fresh air, he rode his bike home. For the duration of the quick trip, he allowed his mind to wander from the rows and columns of data to his dilemma—when to email his acceptance of the mission to Cassandra without sounding too eager.
Trevor couldn’t quite comprehend how she had made an extrovert like him feel like a teenager on a first date, questioning his own words and reactions to her, making him unsure if what he was about to say would make the pretty girl turn around and run for the hills.
He wasn’t a monk. He knew that his past girlfriends had enjoyed the fact that he had listened to what they had to say, but they always wanted more from him—more than what he had been willing to share. He had always held a small part of himself hidden. Although attraction, feelings, and compatibility had been present in all his relationships, nothing he had experienced compared to the flood of raw emotions Cassandra brought about.
He arrived at home and went straight to the kitchen to throw something together. He was lucky enough to find some leftover Chinese in the fridge. Taking a deep whiff from the container, he shrugged and placed it in the microwave for a quick heat. While he waited, he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge and chuckled when he recalled Cassandra’s witty offer to fetch him one. Once again, his thoughts converged to her.
He took a sip of the heavily caffeinated drink and considered what his options were for contacting her. Trevor didn’t want to come across as a desperate man, even though he craved her laughter like an addict craved his vice. He had set the timetable for twenty-four hours, but there was no way could he wait the full day before emailing her. Should I just bite the bullet and get it over with?
He looked at his watch and realized she was probably still in flight. After a few considerations, he figured it would be several hours before she checked her email. What could it hurt? He grabbed his lunch from the microwave, headed to his office, fired up the desktop, and composed a succinct email. In it, he added the steps to install a new layer of encryption security to her computers for any future communication regarding the case. Being an NSA employee, he knew all digital activity could be monitored and he wanted to be sure that their exchange stayed as confidential as possible.
Once the email was sent, he leaned back in his chair and relaxed. The weight of the last few hours fell from his shoulders. It was too late to turn back. His course—their course—had been set. Strangely, he felt his life was just about to begin.
****
At the airport for the second time that day, Cassandra had a sense of déjà vu as she handed her boarding pass to the attendant. Once seated, she leaned back and replayed the morning in her head. Swallowing her pride was not something she did often. Well, hardly ever. But at that point she needed answers and would do what was necessary to get them.
She recalled the wicked grin on Bauer’s face when she looked in her rearview mirror as she had pulled away. A wisp of curiosity had her pondering the reason for the look. She still wasn’t sure what to make of him. Their little discussion that morning hadn’t given her any insight other than that she could trust him, but something was holding her back from trusting him fully.
When she tried to analyze what it was, random images flashed in her mind’s eye—the droll look on his face at finding her on his doorstep; the disgruntled reply when she probed into his personal life; the anger for having been questioned without authority.
She blushed at the memory of how she had overstepped boundaries with her overly personal question. As soon as the word “boyfriend” had slipped out, she had wanted to swallow it back, but the indignant look on his face had made it well worth the embarrassment at having asked it.
He’d said twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours of anxious waiting to hear if he’d help her. Her throat tightened each time she considered he could actually say no. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he did. Cassandra knew time was precious. It had been almost two weeks since Allison had dropped off the radar. For all Cassandra knew, the formula had already changed hands. Even if it had, Cassandra could still protect Bristol’s investment on the production of the drug. All she had to do to secure proof of the industrial theft was to locate Allison and get her to cough up who paid her to copy the files.
During her musings, she stumbled upon the real reason for her unease. She could clearly recall that he had not blinked an eye when she had mentioned her CIA connections. It could only mean one thing: he knew about her life with the Agency. He had done the exact same thing she had—gone in search of more information about her. Sneaky bastard. What else does he know? One thing was certain: if he said yes, she would definitely have to keep a close eye on him.
****
“Home sweet home,” Cassandra spoke under her breath later that evening, relieved to finally be there. She moved quickly through the house, kicking off her shoes in the hall and heading straight to her home office.
Cassandra was on pins and needles waiting for Bauer’s response. She still worried everything would fall through. He was her last chance. She turned on her computer and waited impatiently for it to start up. Although it had only been several hours since her last contact with him, she couldn’t help but check if he had emailed.
She was stunned to see the last email received was actually from Bauer. Nervous, she sat staring at the screen. She had hoped, but had never really expected, to see one so soon. What if he said no? The thought popped into her head each time her hand reached for the mouse. “Oh for heaven’s sake, just freaking open it,” she said out loud.
Her cheeks grew flushed. She could feel the blood rushing in her veins and hear her pulse echoing in her ears. Unconsciously, she shook her head. For a brief second, her mind went completely blank. She had his answer. What would she do now? Where would she begin?
A slow grin spread across her face. “Holy! He’s going to help,” she yelled, startling herself, and, with a relieved laugh, spun in her chair. Giddy, she stopped her momentum and resettled herself in front of the monitor. With a quick series of clicks on the infrared keyboard shining on her desk, she pulled up her files. The dark dreary cloud that had been hanging over her had cleared. She could see the light in the distance shining through—the potential of a lead. Suddenly, she felt as if she had a new lease on life.
Taking a deep breath, she read through the note again and followed the instructions to set up their main communication hub. Encrypting the files as directed, she felt like she was channelin
g the movie Sneakers. She sent Bauer copies of the Bristol project, including Allison’s personnel brief containing her employee ID photo, last known address, and emergency contacts information. In addition, she included some unofficial documentation about Allison’s checking accounts and credit cards, secured by Jessica through creative means. Allison hadn’t covered her tracks as well as she had thought—a clear sign that she had no experience as a criminal.
After sending the email, Cassandra walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer to celebrate. When she popped the bottle’s cap and took a long swig, she noticed the message light blinking on the answering machine. Curious, she hit play and grimaced when Nathan’s voice filled the air. Pulling the bottle slowly from her mouth, the excitement of the past few minutes dimmed. Normally she would have enjoyed hearing from her old friend, but due to the current awkward state of their relationship, she was instead filled with unease.
Her body grew still as she listened to his message. Hey, Cass. I would like to apologize for my behavior. I know how to make it up to you. Come for a visit. It’s not like you’re busy now, with being pulled from the case and the dead-end with that Bauer guy. Call me, will you? We can make arrangements.
Cassandra stared at the machine. Nathan’s visit with her and their time in Maryland had solidified for her that they were only destined to be friends. His touch didn’t bring her to life. She couldn’t imagine ever entering into an intimate long-term relationship with him, and she wasn’t willing to settle.
She didn’t need to think on it; there would be no visit. It would be a mistake to do so. With a deep sigh, she downed the rest of her beer and erased the message. She was fairly certain Nathan wouldn’t take it well when she told him, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it, and it definitely wouldn’t be happening that night.
Countermeasure (Countermeasure Series) Page 14
