To Trick a Hacker: Women of Purgatory 3

by India Kells

  “It’s not entirely mine to tell.”

  “Well, another secret. What a surprise. In the meantime, Doggy darling, try to make up with him. I don’t like seeing him like that. Owen has a tendency of finding comfort in the dark. Nothing good can come out of that.”

  On that cryptic phrase, Lance got out and opened her door in a very gallant manner. Owen was waiting for them near the porch when another car came down the lane. Immediately, both Lance and Owen reached for their weapons hidden in the small of their backs, but relaxed immediately when they recognized the driver.

  As soon as the vehicle stopped both brothers smiled. Lance waved like a little kid as a tall man with dark blond hair in a crew cut and a small, curvy redhead got out of the car. “Wes! Happy to see you’re alive! After trying your phone so many times, I was about to accuse your lovely wife of smothering you with a pillow. Not that I would blame her.” Lance clapped his older brother on the back as he took him in a bear hug. Owen was next greeting his older brother. “Glad to see you, Wes.” And he turned to the lovely redhead sticking close to Wes.

  “I’m not done with him yet, Lance. Rest assured he’s alive and well.”

  Lance smiled and dismissed his brother to take the woman in his arms before twirling her around. “My favorite little sniper!”

  The woman laughed. “Put me down, you goof!”

  But Lance didn’t and carried her around. “That’s your punishment for not answering your phone, Mac. You can kill my brother, but you’re forever forbidden from not answering your phone when I call.”

  Mac. The sniper of Purgatory, and one of its most devoted agents with Gabrielle, Beatrice’s right hand. She remembered that she had married the oldest Sorenson brother. As she stood on the side, Dylan marveled in how she interacted with all of them. Wesley beamed at his bride as Lance came around and lowered her just enough for Owen to give her a kiss. It was fascinating seeing the three brothers together. Wesley, the oldest, with his buzz cut of dark blond hair, was just a few inches short of the second brother. Lance was handsome as models in magazines with his silvery blond hair and clear blue eyes, as Wesley was more rugged, with a definite edge on him. Dylan knew Wesley had been captured during a mission as a SEAL and suffered severe trauma. Owen had the same burnished gold hair of his oldest brother, but it didn’t draw light, as if shadows lingered more around his edges than his two siblings.

  As her eyes were detailing his face, Owen turned to her and his smile vanished. The dark blue of his eyes flattened, making her shiver despite the increasing heat of the Texas sun.

  Lance put Mac on the ground and the woman took a step in her direction.

  “Sorry! I didn’t see you. Lance has a tendency of grabbing attention and never wanting to let it go. I’m Mac. Well, that’s the name I use at work, my first name is Elorian, or Ellie. But so very few people use it, apart from my brother and mother-in-law.”

  Mac extended her hand.

  Inhaling a breath, Dylan ignored her discomfort as she took it and smiled. “I’m Dylan.”

  Lance took a step closer, putting his chin to her sister-in-law’s shoulder. “But what you don’t know, darling Mac, is that in front of you stands the mighty Dogberry.”

  Mac’s green eyes widened in surprise, and before she could react, Dylan was in the fiery woman’s arms. It took her a moment to take a calming breath and return the hug.

  When she pulled back, Mac beamed at her, and turned to her husband who came to stand behind her. Again, taken by surprise, Wesley grabbed her and pulled her into his arms in a mighty hug.

  Mac giggled when he released Dylan. “I think we have stunned her. Look at her face!”

  Dylan tried to recover, babbling. “I’m happy to meet you, too. I didn’t know people around him were so welcoming.”

  Mac took her hand. “We are, but this was more a thank you than a hello. Do you know how many times you saved my life, or helped me on missions since I started working for Purgatory?”

  Wesley put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “It’s true. And you saved mine as well. I learned from Beatrice how many times you lend a hand to Admiral Feander in critical missions.”

  Dylan tried to answer without stuttering, which seemed difficult. “I only did my job. I’m glad that I was helpful.”

  Mac laughed. “You’re not used of being in social settings, are you? I envy you, I had to be in too many in my life already. I know you did your job, but bottom line, we’re grateful you were there for us, and very happy to finally meet you. I bet twenty bucks with Wes that Dogberry was a woman. It seems that I won. And I think Lance and I were the only one on that side.”

  Wesley grimaced. “Love, the statistics were on my side! There are a lot more men in computer sciences, or as hackers, than women.”

  Mac kissed his cheek. “I know. Call it feminine intuition.”

  “Oh, what a wonderful surprise!”

  The little troop turned to the melodious voice of a beautiful blonde woman standing on the porch, dressed in an old pair of jeans stained with dirt, a worn white cotton shirt and a stray hat on her head where tendrils of white-blonde hair escaped, twirling in the wind. Her smile accentuated the lines of age on her face, but it wasn’t age that you saw, it was grace and light. The mother of the Sorenson brothers was a striking woman, so very much like her sons. Exactly as Dylan had seen in the pictures.

  The three men moved as one as she went down the steps. In sunlight, Dylan could see the soft curved woman with tears in her blue eyes, pure motherly love for her sons. The three mighty warriors turned into gooey caramel, smiling and gently kissing her cheek, but the woman didn’t want any of it, and grabbed them into a collective hug. Her laughter drew attention, warm and carefree.

  Dylan was envious of what she saw. So, that was a family, a loving one, unconditionally accepting each member? Something she had fantasized about when she was younger, as she was being moved from one foster home to another. An idea she had abandoned so long ago.

  “Ellie! My darling girl! I didn’t see you, surrounded by my giant boys!”

  Mac laughed before being hugged by her mother-in-law. “It’s lovely to see you.”

  “Ah, you look more beautiful every time I see you. I hope my son is taking care of you.”

  Mac smiled genuinely at her. “We’re taking good care of each other, Mary.”

  And when Mary’s blue eyes, so close to Lance’s, zeroed in on her, Dylan squirmed. “Mrs. Sorenson, I’m Dylan Harris. Thank you for welcoming me. I know you weren’t expecting so many people on such short notice.”

  The older woman shook her head, curious, smiling. “There is no ceremony here, Dylan. And I’m always happy to welcome my sons and their friends. Please, call me Mary.”

  Dylan didn’t dare looking at Owen, but forced herself to smile. “You’re very generous.”

  Mary angled her head. “So serious. Poor darling, you’ll have to learn that here, serious is left at the door. Now, everybody inside, I have fresh iced tea, and I want to hear everything about everybody. It’s been way too long since I have seen you all.”

  Taking Mac’s and Lance’s elbows, Mary almost sauntered back inside the house. It was obvious that she was head over heels that her boys were home. Wesley followed, leaving Owen outside with Dylan.

  “You haven’t told your mother we were coming. Are you sure it’s safe, for her I mean?”

  Owen nodded, not looking at her. “Yes, nobody knows we’re here.”

  “And at what time is your meeting with Amy?”

  “Ten tonight.”

  “What’s the plan? I’m ready to hack into the server when you are. Do you think tonight is the right time?”

  “I go alone tonight. Get the lay of the land, measure up the security. It’s been a while since I went there.”

  “You won’t go without backup.”

  “I told you, I don’t want anybody here to know about it.” His tone was so clipped, it could slice ice.

  “I know, but I�
�ll go with you, Owen. And that’s non-negotiable.”

  Owen turned his head and it was clear he was debating her demand. “Will you be able to endure whatever might happen?”

  “You mean that not only will you propose to get back to work, but start tonight?”

  Owen shrugged. “It might happen. What I need to know is if you can deal with it.”

  “The plan was only to infer you going back into the business, not actually do it.”

  “To prove how serious I am, I may not have a choice.”

  Bile rose inside of her at the thought of what Owen might have to do, or with whom.

  “In that case, I’m going in tonight.”

  When Owen crossed his arms, she knew a fight was brewing. “If you’re getting skittish, you better stand back. Aren’t you at your best behind a screen anyway?”

  It stung, but she held her ground. “Insulting me won’t get you anywhere, Sorenson.”

  “No insult. I don’t need you doubting that I can get the information we need.”

  His cool answer made her mad. He dared play that game with her. “I don’t doubt for a second that you could get the information.”

  “So, afraid you’ll have to hear me screw Amaryllis or some random woman to prove my loyalty?” His answer sounded almost like a hiss to her ears.

  Dylan knew what he was doing. He was trying to deepen the schism between them, to make it so large that they would never find their way back. He would then be safe and far away. Less than twelve hours ago, she would have gladly gone on with his plan, but not anymore. Her instinct never failed her before, so she would follow it again, even if it meant taking a path she never thought she would take.

  Owen waited for her retaliation, obviously a slap or at least a cold shoulder. He prepared for it when she stepped in his direction. His body braced, his arms on each side of him stiffened. When she grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and pulled it to kiss him, his sudden intake of air proved that she had surprised him. Before he could return her kiss, she broke the connection, but stayed close, eye to eye, breath to breath.

  “If it’s what you wish, you can screw whatever woman you want, Sorenson. What I can’t stand is for you to lose your soul in the process. That I don’t want to see. Ever.”

  His lips parted hesitantly. “Why would you care?”

  It was impossible for Dylan to say the words yet. Instead, she released his T-shirt and gently cupped his bearded cheeks before kissing him again. This time, she poured herself into the kiss. She was not taking anything, only trying to translate her feelings into physical motion. For a long moment, Owen stood immobile, like a marble statue. Her heart sank, and as she started retreating, his arms came around her and his mouth finally moved. Relief made her knees wobbly and she gripped his shoulders with both hands. At first, Dylan thought by the tightness of his hold that he would do the same with his kiss; instead, it was soft, almost tentative. The gentleness, the hesitation, shattered something inside of her, and when his hand slid under her shirt, tracing up her spine, splaying over her scars, she didn’t care. Panting and breathing, their lips a hair’s breath of each others, his blue eyes bore into her eyes, searching, waiting.

  “You push me away again, Dylan, and we’re over. As partners, as lovers, as anything. Do you understand?”

  There was more in his question. “I never intended to use you, Owen. I would never do that. But I can’t promise you more than what we already have.”

  Owen nodded. “And I can’t offer you more than what we already have. If you long for a happily ever after, I won’t be part of it. But until we make a decision about what we are, all I ask is for loyalty.”

  Dylan nodded as he took a stray strand of dark hair from her ponytail and gently twirled it around her ear. She agreed with him. Between them, there was too much damage. It brought them closer, allowed an understanding, but there was no sturdy block on which to build something else.

  “Understood. We’d better get inside before your mother calls us.”

  And for the first time since they left Seattle, Owen’s smile warmed. “If you think that what just happened will only stay between us, you’re wrong. I bet they’re all glued behind one of the kitchen windows.”

  “Well, let’s not give them more speculations. I don’t want to deceive your mother.”

  Something flashed on Owen’s face, too quickly for her to decipher.

  Keeping her thoughts to herself, she stepped back and forced herself to smile. “Let’s go, Sorenson. We have a long day ahead of us, and even a longer night.”

  Chapter 24

  Dylan was curled up on the sofa, her laptop on her knees. As the Internet access was far from secure, she only did superficial check ups, particularly the status of the Purgatory servers, which stayed comfortingly silent.

  From the corner of her eyes, she saw the Sorenson brood in the kitchen. All three brothers were helping their mother with dinner. This ritual fascinated Dylan; in foster homes, she helped preparing meals, but it looked more like an industrial process. No laughter, no banter. It had to be quick and efficient.

  Part of her had wanted to help, but Mrs. Sorenson, Mary, gently winked at her and told her to go relax in the living room. Mac tried for a while longer, but soon joined Dylan, resigned. Her red hair piled haphazardly on top of her head, she let herself fall on the sofa with an exaggerated sigh.

  “I love to cook, sincerely, but with that bunch, they turn a kitchen into a battlefield. They’re impossible!”

  Dylan arched an eyebrow. “I guess it’s the way they were raised. I don’t blame Mrs. Sorenson, she had to have a firm grip with those three.”

  Mac stretched her legs. “Yeah, no doubt. But she raised amazing men.”

  Dylan didn’t answer her, even if her gaze automatically went to Owen, busy cutting vegetables on the island.

  “So, any news from Beatrice or Gabrielle?”

  Dylan turned to Mac and shook her head. “No, you know the shut-down process. Everything becomes inaccessible … people and equipment.”

  “Yeah, but what triggered Bea to launch the process?”

  Frowning, Dylan closed her laptop. “Purgatory computer system had been under attack a couple times in the last few weeks, but so far we could fend it off. I’m not sure either.”

  Mac brought her legs on the sofa to turn and face her. “You forget who you’re talking to. I’m not stupid. Although I’m very glad to meet you in the flesh, Bea wouldn’t have compromised your cover, unless she strongly believed you’re in danger. And the fact that she asked Owen to protect you is telling. My guess? You know, or you have a strong idea of what may be going on.”

  Dylan waited, debating what she could really reveal. Mac was trustworthy, no doubt about it, but some of her speculations were not hers to tell.

  “What do you know about me, about Dogberry?”

  Mac studied her. “Not much. That you have been with Purgatory almost as long as Gabrielle, who has now replaced Beatrice at the head of organisation. And that Gabrielle and you have never met, but collaborated often. Even if Purgatory employs the best hackers in the field, you have an incomparable talent to get us out of impossible situations. Speculations flew. But personally? I think that as with all of us, Beatrice must have rescued you or saved you, and you joined Purgatory as pay back, and then stayed because of loyalty. Also, and correct me if I’m wrong, but as you’re the only one of us who always remained hidden, cloaked behind Dogberry, life must have screwed with you, big time. Mentally and physically probably, and before you ask, I noticed how you reacted when I hugged you. You have the same reactions as Wes. I got to know some stuff about PTSD since I fell madly in love with the man.”

  Dylan whistled. “Remind me to never play poker with you. You would see through me in a heartbeat.”

  “Nah, I’ve been raised surrounded by many people hiding their true self behind masks. It’s second nature for me. So, dish out, mighty hacker.”

  Dylan couldn’t help but smile; ther
e was a little bit of Mercy in Mac. Heavens help her.

  “Long story short—”

  “Nope, I want the long, long, long story. I’m from Scotland … storytelling is a drug for me, it’s in my genes.”

  “It’s not a nice story.”

  “Don’t care!” Mac was almost pouting.

  “Okay, let me put it this way … I’ll give you the less painful story for me.”

  Mac stayed silent and impassible as Dylan told her a toned down, but nonetheless still difficult, story of what happened. When she finished, Mac stayed silent for a moment.

  “You think it’s that Knudson fellow, or someone acting exactly like him, who attacked Purgatory, and killed two of your friends?”