Midnight Kiss

by Lisa Marie Rice

  He said it without smiling, sober as a judge, meaning every word.

  She sketched a shaky smile. “Unless the zombie apocalypse happens.”

  “Then, too. I know to aim for the head and I’m an excellent shot.” He didn’t smile back. “Still, no zombies tonight, guaranteed. Sleep well.”

  She nodded and walked into her bedroom and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  This wasn’t going to be easy and not because she had killers after her. That was the easy part.

  Hope finished unpacking the bag Summer had prepared for her and, as promised, Summer had been thorough. Hope had enough clothes for at least a week and she could always order online, Luke had said. Anything she needed would be ordered off a company card and delivered to the company and then brought to them. Summer, like her, had apparently perfected the art of dressing Nerd Chic. Comfortable clothes made of excellent fabric, well cut, but sporty. Clothes you could look good in even when working twelve-hour days.

  Summer had included new underwear that was a little large, a new toothbrush and toothpaste, minimal makeup and tampons and — whoa. A box of condoms at the bottom. A box.

  It contained more condoms than the times she’d had sex in her life.

  Standing there like an idiot, with the box in her hand, she blushed furiously. Hope rarely blushed and if she did, it wasn’t about sex, it was when she made a very rare professional mistake. Sex didn’t play a big part in her life. Ordinarily, she’d have smiled and put the box of condoms away, but she stood there like a dork, package in hand, while intense heat prickled through her entire body.

  Because, well, condoms meant sex and she had the sexiest man she’d ever seen in the next room. Luke Reynolds was, as they said, sex on a stick.

  Hope worked in a man’s world, but the man’s world she was in wasn’t full of men. Not men men, anyway. It was full of humans with a Y chromosome who were really interested in a) data, b) software, c) money. If they were interested in women, that came way, way down in the list and after office hours. And since most everyone worked fourteen-hour days, sex didn’t play a big part in their lives, either.

  In her classes at MIT, at the NSA and now at the hedge fund that she had probably resigned from, since she’d gone AWOL, there wasn’t an ounce of testosterone. The rec room goodies were more interesting than the men.

  But Luke Reynolds … huh. While being utterly serious, even grim, he simply oozed sex. He was built — though maybe too lean — but that wasn’t it. Or at least that wasn’t all of it. He just was a man in the truest sense of the term. After that initial flurry of terror when he’d woken her up in the plane, she’d felt nothing but safe with him. It was like he’d thrown a magic male protective net over her. And all the time they’d been together, he’d been armed. The men after her were armed, but so was he. He’d been a special forces officer and then a cop, a detective. No doubt he was a really good shot, just as he said. But above all, he seemed serious and focused on her.

  She was a job, sure. He hadn’t made any moves of any type, neither physically nor verbally. He’d been a perfect gentleman every single second. But he couldn’t help being so dazzlingly handsome.

  In Hope’s most desperate moment, Felicity had thrown her a lifeline. A man who could and would protect her. Hope was really really grateful. But why did he have to be a hormone magnet? Why? Was this fair?

  No, it wasn’t. But life wasn’t fair, she knew that. Had known it for a long time. All of her life, in fact.

  So she’d tuck the condoms back into the bottom of the wheelie and forget about them. Nothing to do with her.

  So many layers of anxiety, she thought as she got into the super comfortable bed with the billion thread-count sheets. They smelled of a lavender-scented fabric softener and felt like satin.

  There was a whole column of things to be worried about. The shadowy men after her, who’d been willing to kill. The identity of her parentage. Someone in her family who’d been willing to kill. Probably was still willing to kill her. Possibly her father. The absolute lack of a path to follow to figure out what was going on. How could she sleep?

  She couldn’t.

  All she could do was try to close her eyes and let her anxious buzzing brain work on the issues. So she closed her eyes, just to rest them for a moment, then she opened them again.

  But when she opened her eyes, there was light around the thick curtains drawn over the big windows and on the ceiling was projected 9.30. She’d programmed her cell to project the time onto the ceiling even when the monitor went dark, so she’d always know what time it was.

  She stared at the ceiling, puzzled. It had been 10.15 when she’d crawled into bed. Had she somehow fallen into a wormhole and travelled back in time?

  No. It took her dull brain a full minute to realize that it was 9.30 the next morning. She’d slept almost twelve hours. When was the last time she’d slept twelve hours straight? Never, that was when.

  She moved her head to the left, to the right. The room was beautiful, well-appointed, with even a small armchair and sofa set. The bathroom was luxurious, too. She was on the run, but with style.

  If she died, presumably ASI would make sure she was buried in a superior mahogany coffin with brass handles.

  God knows no one else would care.

  Whoa.

  She had to stop this, right now. Gloomy and depressing thoughts would only make her gloomy and depressed, and not help her in any way. What would help her was being clear-headed. And speaking of help, she’d made a promise to Felicity and had every intention of keeping that promise.

  She threw back the rose-patterned comforter and slid out of bed. A quick shower, then she dressed in stretchy black jeans and a green cotton sweater and walked barefoot into the living room area.

  Luke immediately stood up. Startled, Hope wondered why on earth he was standing up. Was he planning on going somewhere? But he didn’t move, just watched her walk toward him out of those gorgeous light blue eyes.

  And then she realized he’d stood up like a gentleman would when a lady entered the room. The men she knew didn’t have old-fashioned manners. No manners at all, actually. Most of them had no idea how to behave in society.

  So having such a capable and tough man stand when she entered a room made her feel … like a lady.

  Luke smiled at her and she smiled back.

  “Sorry I slept in so late,” she said and the smile disappeared.

  “God, don’t apologize,” he said frowning. “No problem. At all. You needed it, you’ve been operating on fumes the past couple of days from what I can see. I only ordered breakfast a quarter of an hour ago and it should be arriving right about —” The doorbell rang. “Now.”

  Luke pulled out the small side table and set two small chairs beside it. In a moment, Luke had made a little breakfast table, then walked to the door. There wasn’t a peephole, but a little screen to the side of the door. Luke waved at her to get out of the line of sight and she did, retreating to her bedroom, waiting while she heard the sounds of the waiter rolling a cart in, the low murmur of male voices and then the door closing.

  Another moment, then Luke called softly for her to come out. She walked back into the living room area. She could have found her way by smell alone. There was a feast on the table and Luke had had the waiter leave the cart because there wasn’t room on the table for everything.

  Two pots — one for coffee, one for tea, she imagined. Another pot of milk. Pancakes, syrup, a rack of whole wheat toast, a big plate of link sausages, scones, pots of yogurt, a big bowl of steaming oatmeal with blueberries sprinkled on top, a plate of croissants, an omelet, a huge platter of sliced fruit, pats of butter and an array of tiny jam jars.

  It was almost more than she ate in a week.

  Luke was still standing and she understood that he wouldn’t sit down until she did. So she sat and unfurled a huge napkin. Linen, thank you very much.

  This was so different from her usual breakfas
t, gobbling down a pot of yogurt over the sink.

  “I didn’t know what you liked so I ordered a little of everything.” Luke was watching her carefully, as if unsure whether he’d done the right thing or the wrong thing. Hope tried to remember the last time someone cared what she ate.

  “Thanks so much,” she said softly, and his face cleared. “But — could someone become suspicious that you’re ordering so much food?” She glanced at the cart. “And two plates and two cups and saucers?”

  “Coffee? Tea?” Luke was holding up both pots. She indicated the coffee and he started pouring. “This two bedroom suite is registered in the name of two men, booked by a big fertilizer concern in Idaho. Credit card is in the company name. Two businessmen in a nice hotel, their company saving money by booking a two bedroom suite instead of two separate bedrooms.”

  She nodded, pouring hot syrup over pancakes that smelled like heaven. It all smelled like a sweet and savory heaven. The pancakes were perfect, crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside. From what she could tell, the syrup was real. Came from a tree and not a factory. Everything tasted fresh and not factory-made.

  “I’ve been holding Felicity off,” he said casually, putting two slices of toast and some sausage on her plate. Hope couldn’t remember the last time someone actually served her food and who wasn’t a waiter. “She’s called three times.”

  Hope looked up. Luke didn’t look worried or tense, so it wasn’t an emergency. If it had been, he’d have woken her up. “Do you know what it was about?”

  “Yep.” He kept his face expressionless.

  “Am I — am I in trouble?”

  “Nope.” The sides of his mouth curled up, almost a smile in that oh-so-handsome but oh-so-grim face. “The opposite in fact. Felicity found herself unable to hack your security system. She was pleased but also irritated. Not much is unhackable by Felicity. She’s impressed and —” His cell rang. He glanced at it. “Speaking of the devil.”

  He grinned and held the phone out to her.

  Hope put Felicity on speaker and video and smiled at her on the screen. Felicity had some color in her face and was sitting up. She sounded upbeat and less tired than the evening before. “Hey! I thought I was good! This is an absolutely new paradigm.”

  Hope smiled and sipped her coffee. “Yeah. Basically asymmetric-key encryption that shifts every second.”

  “Like you said, you’d need a quantum computer to break it and even then …”

  Hope was so pleased. Felicity got it, but then of course she’d get it. “We’ll be okay until the Singularity.”

  “And by then it won’t matter. Because Skynet will have taken over.”

  Hope smiled. It was their favorite meme. The Singularity was coming and Skynet would follow but for right now, it was OK. “Right.”

  “Listen, Hope. I know you said you didn’t want to sell the system to us …”

  “God no!” Hope was delighted to give it to ASI. She’d been wondering how to use her system that was so secure it was almost scary. Who to sell it to? Not the US government. There were parts of the US government that definitely needed sunshine, not an unbreakable wall. Not her company. Her ex-company by now. Her hedge fund didn’t deserve it. They were all greedy fucks who’d walk all over their grandmothers’ faces with cleats for an extra 1% margin of profit. Nope. ASI sounded like a good place for her system to land. They’d helped Felicity. After a little research last night before falling asleep, she’d learned that they’d helped a number of other people, including Summer Redding-Delvaux, her hero.

  Felicity smiled at her. It was like she was in the room with them and it warmed Hope’s heart. “Listen honey. We work sometimes with Black Inc. They really helped us out recently on something I can’t talk about. But it was serious stuff and they came through. Would you be willing to sell your system to them? It’s exactly what they need.”

  “No.”

  Felicity blinked. Luke turned his head sharply toward her.

  “No?” Felicity said.

  Hope shook her head. “I won’t sell it to them but I will give it to them. If they are your friends and helped you in a bad situation —”

  “The worst situation.” Felicity’s mouth tightened.

  “All the more reason to give it to them.”

  “Well … that’s generous.”

  It wasn’t. Hope had more money than she could use in ten lifetimes. Felicity was helping her every way she could in a difficult period for her. For some reason her other two friends, who would usually be there for her, were AWOL. Emma and Riley. As soon as they saw her bat-signal, they’d get in touch but for now it was Felicity and her team, who turned out to be absolutely ace. And if Black Inc was their friend, Black Inc was her friend, too.

  “Just hope it’s useful.”

  Felicity gave a small, evil smile. “It would sure be useful to the CIA. They have been leaking like a sieve lately. But they won’t get it.”

  Hope gave a small evil smile right back at her. “Nope. But you guys and I guess Black Inc will be safe. For a while. The best that can be hoped for.”

  “I agree.” Felicity sighed. “Listen. I’m nearing the end of my leash, or at least the amount of work Metal is allowing me.”

  There was a bass sound in the background that sounded like a growl. Hope looked, startled, at Luke. He gave a shrug.

  “So before I am forced to go dark,” Felicity continued. Her voice was weaker than before. “I tried to crack the nut of your parents’ origins.”

  “Not my parents.” Hope was clear on that.

  “No. The people impersonating your parents. I traced something back to Sacramento.”

  For a moment, Hope was lost. “Sacramento what?”

  “California. Sacramento, California. There’s a string there but I didn’t have time to pull it. I’m sending my files … now.”

  Then Felicity’s face disappeared and Hope stared for a moment at the dark screen. California. California. She had no connection whatsoever with California.

  “What’s the deal with the security system?” Luke asked and Hope had to wrench her mind back to her firewall, when just about every molecule of her mental hard drive was fixated on California.

  “Oh, that. Well, essentially, I set up a system where you establish your own DoS attack — a Denial of Service — to safeguard your system. Imagine there’s a highway between outsiders and your files. It’s a two-lane highway and cars go by slowly enough for you to have a shot at crossing it at a run. You have to time it carefully and there’s a little danger, but it’s doable.”

  He was listening carefully, head cocked to one side, probably wondering where she was going with this. “Okay.”

  Hope nodded. “Now imagine you still want to get over to the other side. But now it’s a twenty-lane superhighway, full of trucks going 100 mph, and it’s bumper to bumper traffic. And as soon as you think you’ve seen an opening to cross one lane, another truck whizzes by unexpectedly. There are twenty lanes to cross. My algorithms shift every ten seconds. You’d need a quantum computer to deal with the firewall and those don’t exist yet. Not in any meaningful way.”

  Luke thought a moment. “And by the time they do, we’ll be living under the jackboot of Skynet, as you said, and it won’t make any difference.”

  She beamed a smile at him. “Exactly.” It was nice to see he got it.

  “On behalf of ASI and on behalf of Black Inc, I thank you. Computer security saves lives. You about done there?” He nodded at her plate and she realized she’d been eating and had stopped. She consulted her belly and it was full so she nodded.

  “Good.” Luke rose. “Housekeeping will take care of this. Can you pack again? Put everything back in the wheelie Felicity sent you?”

  Hope was still thinking of her firewall. “What?”

  Luke took her elbow gently and guided her back to her room. “Pack. Please.”

  “We’re going somewhere?” She’d just arrived in Portland and they were leaving?
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  “Yeah. Sacramento.”

  Willard Hotel

  Washington DC

  “Senator, it’s time.” Court Redfield’s personal assistant, Leland Barton, heroically kept from glancing at his expensive Phillipe Patek watch, but it was clearly an effort. His young face was carved with worry lines, giving a flashing glimpse of what Leland would look like in thirty years’ time. Thank God Leland wouldn’t be around him in thirty years’ time.

  Leland was a moron and Court entrusted him only with the most mundane of tasks and never paid attention to what he said. Hiring Leland as his ‘personal assistant’ was a token to the old boys’ network, and assured the help of Mercer Barton, who owned a slew of radio and TV stations in the Midwest, in exactly those states he needed to win this goddamned thing, the Presidency.

  Court cleared his voice and pointed his finger at Leland. Court was worried sick, but his voice betrayed nothing. He’d been the Deputy Director of the CIA for seven years and if nothing else, it taught him how to hide emotions and put command in his voice. “Has my son Bard arrived?”

  Leland pretended to consult his cell, pursing his lips. But Court knew the answer. “No, sir.” Leland lifted his round face, big moist eyes sorrowful. Amateur liars never blinked when lying but then blinked eight times more often after the lie. And now Leland was creating a small wind eddy with his blinking. “He, ahm, sent a message that he’d be delayed.” An orangutan could tell he was lying.

  Bard had done no such fucking thing.

  This time, Court had been adamant. He’d ordered Bard to be here. Bard needed to be by his side when meeting the big donors of his party. Bard’s absence was bad news. The worst. Particularly with the announcement he was about to make. He was making a run for the Presidency, for the office he’d been born to. Court was destined to be the leader of the country. His son was a decorated war hero and should be by his father’s side, on this day of all days. Fuck.