To Trick a Hacker: Women of Purgatory 3

by India Kells

  “If I had to pick a theory, I would rather think it’s someone acting like him. Knudson didn’t have enough knowledge to effectively break our firewall. And unless he’s resurrected, it’s unlikely.”

  Mac nodded. “Yeah, but again, for what purpose? Why is that person trying to get to you? And through Purgatory?”

  “If I only knew … I’ve found possible leads, locations where the hacker launched the attack. Owen and I will look into them. One in particular is interesting, and as it’s secure, the creep will probably use it again. A chance to catch him in the act.”

  “Good plan. And I want in by the way. I may not be good with computers, but for breaking and entering, I have a knack.”

  “Yeah, well I haven’t had a chance to discuss the next step with Owen. I’ll let you know.”

  “And talking about the little Sorenson brother, what’s the deal?”

  The change of subject was so sudden, Dylan blinked. “What?”

  Mac crossed her arms, determination etched on her face. “Oh, come on. We all saw you through the window earlier, and the way you evaded questioning when you two came inside. I always think that the youngest of a family is the wildest child, but Owen is so serious, so contained. I don’t know him well, I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but I can see that he cares about you.”

  “Is that your romantic Scot side showing up this time, Mac?”

  “Oh, I have a romantic streak, but for marrying the oldest Sorenson brother, I’m also a pragmatist. There is always more than meets the eye with them. I think it comes from their childhood, how they had to bound so closely together around their mother. And after how it transposed in their military career. They don’t hold back, which probably exposed them, made them more vulnerable. And strong as steel.”

  Dylan turned her gaze to Owen once again, and she saw him smiling at something Lance said, and his mother passed behind him, stroking his back.

  “They are strong together.”

  Mac turned to observe them, too. “Yes, they are. But they will accept you, as they accepted me.”

  Dylan shook her head, ignoring the surge of emotions inside of her. “No, we’re not like that, Mac. It’s not a standard relationship between Owen and me. We have discussed it. We work together until the creep is taken care of, until Purgatory is safe and back on track, and then we go our separate ways.”

  “That’s what he told you?”

  “That’s what we told each other.”

  Mac opened her mouth to reply when Wesley came with two beers.

  “Ladies, as you’re relaxing while the men are doing all the work, I thought you could use something to drink.”

  Mac kissed her husband, an endearing smile on her face as he handed her a cold bottle. “If it’s a veiled reproach, you’re failing. I’ve offered my help and I was ushered outside. It seems this kitchen is for pure blood Sorensons only.”

  Wesley winced and Mac laughed. “You know, love, that my Mom doesn’t have her boys often enough, and forces us to cook with her any chance she gets.”

  “I know, baby. I’m teasing you. Dylan and I are perfectly well on our own, having girl talk.”

  Wesley sat beside his wife, offering the second beer to Dylan who declined. Falsely resigned and amused, he took a swig instead. “I realize that it’s dangerous to leave you two together for too long. You could share compromising information about us. Especially that hacker here, she could corrupt your mind with false information, dear wife.”

  Mac burst out laughing and elbowed him. “No doubt about it. So why don’t you go back to the kitchen so she can dish out on you?”

  “No way. I stay here and do damage control!”

  “What damage control?” Lance came in the living room and fell to the floor, in front of a stuffed chair. “I’m the damage control expert.”

  “You know it’s not true, brother. Owen is the expert in damage control. I’m the expert in impossible missions.”

  Lance pursed his lips. “And what does that make me?”

  Wesley seemed to contemplate it for a moment. “Cannon fodder?”

  Lance plucked a small pillow from behind him and threw it at his older brother. “Fuck you, Wes.”

  “Mind your mouth in my house, Lancelot Sorenson!”

  At the sound of his mother’s voice, Lance winced, but glared at his brother. “Sorry.”

  Mac giggled. “No, not cannon fodder. You can do better than that. Come on, Wes.”

  Dylan smiled at the SEAL on the floor before her and offered a suggestion, “Lance is a diversion, the danger you don’t see coming.”

  Lance blinked before beaming at her. “Dylan, that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard.” He crawled to her and caught her hand before kissing it.

  “What the hell, Lance?” Owen came into the living preceded by Mary.

  “What are you doing on the floor, darling?” Mary shook her head at his son’s antics and sat in the overstuffed chair.

  “Dylan gave me a high compliment; I was thanking her.”

  “By crawling on the floor? Original. Gentlemanly, too. I’m proud of you, son, for the gesture, but not the style.”

  Beaming, Lance wiggled his brows. “See, Owen, if you crawled a little bit more—”

  “Stop right there, Lance.” Owen rolled his eyes and stepped over Lance, and sat on the floor by Dylan’s feet.

  Lance retreated back to sit in front of Mary. “We know. Owen is too good for crawling. Sorry for you, Dylan.” Lance smiled wickedly, but winked at her.

  “Boys, please, behave. It’s as if I didn’t teach you good manners. Especially when we have a guest. Sorry, Dylan.” But the woman was too happy to have all her boys in the same room to even consider chastising them.

  “Don’t be. You have a wonderful family, Mary. You should be very proud.”

  At her compliment, the woman beamed. “I am. I’m a very lucky woman to have them in my life. They’re wonderful boys. I couldn’t have asked for more.”

  Wesley and Owen remained silent, but Lance, his usual self, smiled at his mother like a puppy. “Oh, Mom, thank you for lying on our behalf.”

  Laughing, Mary ruffled his blond hair. “I never said it was easy, but you were good boys. But enough of you … Since the chicken is cooking, I want to know everything about you, Dylan. It’s the first time Owen ever brought someone home.”

  Speechless, Dylan fumbled to find her words, but Owen stepped in to save her. “Mom, please. I work with Dylan.”

  “Then, what did I see through the kitchen window? Even if Dylan and you are what we call friends with benefits, I don’t mind.”

  Dylan blinked as she saw distinctive red slightly color Owen’s cheeks over his beard.

  Everybody laughed, and Dylan relaxed again. They were a teasing bunch, and she had to learn not to be as defensive.

  Mary leaned back again, looking at Dylan with an appreciative smile. “Tell me, Dylan, to work with my boys and Ellie, you must have an exceptional skill set, so what do you do for a living?”

  “I’d been a homicide detective for a long time before I switched jobs. I’m now working as a computer expert.”

  Mary clapped her hands. “A detective! I’m a fan of detective novels. Following a criminal in the head of the hero, it’s so thrilling!”

  Dylan nodded. “Yes, it may not have been glamorous or exciting all the time, but when we got the bad guy, I would say it was worth it.”

  “But you’re not anymore. A detective, I mean.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Mary nodded, as if analyzing the implication of her answer. “So, if you’re not in the police anymore, and work as a computer expert, you must have met my boys through Purgatory. Unless you’re working for the US Navy as a consultant.”

  Dylan opened her mouth and closed it again. Lance coughed and Owen looked at Wesley, questions in his eyes.

  Mary shook her head and waved at the surprised expression before her. “Everybody here thinks I don’t know what
’s going on. The boys think they talk in codes I don’t understand, but they’re more transparent than they think. And also, I had the chance to meet a very interesting woman who explained everything to me. Beatrice Dante.”

  At the name, it was as if the air froze solid. All three men stared at their mother, so tense, as if readying an attack.

  Mac risked a question before everyone detonated. “You have met Beatrice Dante, Mary? When was that?”

  Mary looked at her boys, but Dylan didn’t detect surprise.

  “Just before your wedding. She came for a visit. We chatted. Which is more than any of your commanders and admirals have ever done, let me say. She only stayed for iced tea, but she wanted to tell me how she appreciated the work my boys were doing for her. She was thankful, and she wanted to assure me that if I ever wanted anything, she would be there for me. And for my entire family.”

  The men relaxed a little. Dylan wasn’t surprised. “Beatrice takes care of hers, and it now includes the Sorenson family. It seems that your three sons have made quite an impression on her and she’s grateful.”

  Mac nodded. “I agree. I’ve known Beatrice for a long time and she wouldn’t have paid a visit if she didn’t mean what she said.” Then she turned to her husband. “It’s a way to say that she will protect her, Wes. Nothing more.”

  Wesley took her hand. “I know.”

  “And why do I need protection?” Mary crossed her arms and looked at her boys, one by one. Nobody spoke until Owen offered her a half smile.

  “You will never be in danger, Mom. That I can promise you.”

  Chapter 25

  Her grip tight on the wheel, Dylan refused to let herself glance at Owen, silent in the passenger seat. The drive from the farmhouse to Maison Amaryllis had been a little less than two hours, and she had insisted on driving. Until Owen got inside, she needed to have her hands and brain occupied. Not only would it lower her stress level, but prevent her from looking once again at the pictures of Amy she had found. The Madame was so beautiful, it hurt the eye, and made it impossible to look away. Tall, blonde, and curvy like a sports car with turquoise eyes like the sea. How could a woman have it all like that?

  Owen stayed silent, checking the mirrors from time to time. He appeared so calm, it frazzled her. His muscled frame relaxed in his perfectly tailored charcoal three-piece suit, the man was the epitome of polished and powerful with his blond hair slicked back. The look suited him. Did he wear that kind of clothing when he worked there? Her thoughts took endless detours, and each time, she tried hard to get back into the here and now.

  Apart from giving driving indications, Owen didn’t say a single word. He didn’t look at her either. It was as if the man she knew had been put away, replaced with someone completely new. A stranger.

  Nearing Maison Amaryllis, Dylan circled around. Five minutes before show time.

  “I’ll leave you on the sidewalk and will go park. As soon as I reach the safe spot, I should be able to access the surveillance system right away.”

  Owen nodded, his eyes steady on the road. Not a word.

  Dylan debated for a moment. Instead of making her way back in front of the brothel, she turned into an alley. At least, that got the attention of the statue sitting beside her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t go. I’ll go.”

  Owen blinked. “What are you talking about? Amy is expecting me, not you. We have discussed this. Without clear knowledge of the security system—”

  Dylan shook her head. “I mean I’ll break in; I’ll work around the security.”

  “Dylan, everything is planned, and going smoothly. I’m expected. What’s going on?”

  And what could she tell him? Impossible to put into words how she felt, sending him into a place where he clearly relived memories he would rather forget. He needed to get in, he needed to act the part, so she could do hers.

  Owen continued to frown at her as she reversed and made her way back to the drop off location. Less than two minutes later, she stopped in front of the elegant and discreet Maison Amaryllis entrance.

  Dylan quickly verified that his comm worked and pinged it on her system.

  The car door opened, and just before he got out, Owen touched her hand. She almost jumped at the contact. He didn’t turn his head and the touch was quick, but it was a glimpse at the man she knew was still behind his shield.

  Dylan watched him readjust his vest and waited a moment on the sidewalk. He appeared as if he only left the night before and was returning to work. She got into position and looked at her feed. Not that many cameras in fact: one in the lobby, one in the storage room, two on the front door, and two in the back. No surprise there.

  Connected to Owen’s headset, she muted her own and only listened as he entered.

  “May I help you, sir?” The female voice sounded very young and way too chirpy.

  “Yes, I have an appointment with Madame Amaryllis.”

  “And you are?”

  “Wolf.”

  Dylan blinked at the name. It was so strange to hear it from him.

  A few moments later, Dylan heard rustling. He had probably sat down. And then followed the familiar clicking sound of stilettos.

  “Well, well, look what the Texas wind has blown back to my doorstep.” The new female voice was much lower, sexier, with a slight drawl. And it held a hint of amusement, a certain culture. Definitely a woman in control. Amaryllis.

  “Amy. Always a pleasure to see you. You look well.” Owen’s voice had taken a deeper, more musical tonality. Quite different from the low, raw, almost gruff sound Dylan liked. Maybe because it sounded more like the persona he had shed a long time ago rather than the man he had become.

  “I quite like the beard look on you, and the longer hair. You fancied the clean-cut style. And I imagined that your time in the military would have kept you that way. That and the body I can guess underneath that fine suit.”

  “We all change, Amy.”

  “Ah, so you say, but here you are. I remember the first time you came to me. Tell me how this time is different from the other.”

  “Back then, I needed money. That’s the reason I came to you.”

  “And now? Is the reason the same?”

  “No, this time, I don’t need money.”

  Dylan’s stomach tightened at his strange answer. How he said it. They hadn’t discussed the reason he would give for wanting to come back into Amy’s grasp. Money would have been an easy, no-question-asked justification.

  “Oh, I see.” The smug, purring quality of Amy’s voice made her want to hurl. “I told you when you left for the Navy that nothing would come close to the rush you found here.”

  “It’s a different kind of rush. I wouldn’t replace one for the other.”

  More rustling and the clinking of glasses. Dylan couldn’t tell what was happening until they spoke.

  “Things have changed quite a bit since I last saw you. I made important structural improvements to the building last year. We still have small updates to do. Tomorrow, we’re redoing the entire security system. Maybe I should let you see the plans. You would know about it, see if my contractor has not skimped me on the protection.”

  At the information, Dylan grounded her teeth. The timing couldn’t be worse. If Amy updated her security tomorrow, all this recon mission would be for nothing. Plans had to change.

  Listening half-mindedly to the conversation in her ear, Dylan accessed the cameras pointing at the back of building and looped them. Then, she got out of the car, and grabbed a backpack she had prepared in the trunk. Pulling her hood up, she scanned around, making sure to blend in the shadows. As she was on the move, she waited until Owen could listen to her end of the line before informing him of the change of plan.

  “Owen, I’m going in, and before you break out of character, you know this is what needs to be done with the new information we just got. I’m on my way. I suppose her office is at the same place you told me. Unless you
head for her office, don’t say a word. And yes, I’ll be careful. And no, I won’t hear about it later.”

  She listened as Owen continue his conversation with Amy. The subtle way his breathing changed told her that he was against her plan, although it may be the only viable plan they got. They had to adjust. To make sure not to be distracted, she muted both ends.

  Dylan reached the back of the building and was grateful for the dimly lit alley. Two ways in. The service door that would force her to find a way in without being certain of the layout, or one of the second-story windows. As per Owen, the one farther on the right was Amy’s office. Unless it had changed since then. The back of the building was all painted brick, no balcony, no ornament that would allow her to have any grip for climbing. Anything apart from the water pipe, painted the same color as the brick, and almost invisible in darkness. It would have to do.