Gabriel turned a serious gaze to me. “It was a condition of your hiring.”
The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, and he directed me to an office at the back. I thought I’d managed to keep a serene expression on my face, but inside I was reeling. A condition of my hiring? I wasn’t a hacker, but I’d been reasonably good at erasing my own trail. Either Alex Greene had figured out my story or he hadn’t, and no amount of nerves would change whatever came next.
Dan O’Malley pulled the door open just as Gabriel knocked on it. His gaze flicked from Gabriel to me, lingered on my face for exactly one second, then back to Gabriel. “Quinn wants to see us in his office,” he said.
“I’ll just see Shane back down to the conference room after she meets with—”
“Now,” O’Malley said in a tone that confirmed the command. “She’s a big girl, and Greene’s only a little scary. She can handle him.”
Ha! That’s what he thought. But I put on my best unconcerned expression and nodded at Gabriel. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He hesitated too long, and I could see O’Malley tense, so I slipped past them both into the office and shut the door behind me.
The first thing that struck me about Alex Greene’s office was how spare it was. The only décor in it seemed to be the furniture that likely came with the office. The walls were empty of art, or anything at all – not even the sticky notes I half-expected from the mad hacking genius who played chess with Google. I wasn’t even sure why I expected hand-written sticky notes. Maybe because unlike digital ones, paper notes could actually be destroyed.
The man who sat behind the utilitarian desk in the otherwise empty room seemed to simultaneously take up all the space and none at all, and I didn’t have time to examine that thought before he looked up from the computer at which he’d been working.
“Hello, Samantha.”
23
Shane
“Names are like superhero suits – they have to fit right to have power, and sometimes they just don’t work off the rack.” – Shane, P.I.
Samantha.
The name sucked all the oxygen from the air and replaced it with a black hole where my lungs had been.
It also had the effect of triggering my fight or flight mode. I must have twitched, because Alex stood suddenly, as though to block my exit. My heart pounded, and my situational awareness suddenly kicked in hard as I tried to calm my pulse.
I saw the fancy green lunch-sized Thermos that had a fork attached to it with a thick, yellow rubber band – the kind of rubber band that held bunches of broccoli together at the supermarket. It sat on a yellow cloth napkin with a three-letter monogram, A G S, in green embroidery thread. It looked hand-stitched, as did the cable-knit turtleneck sweater Alex wore.
Assessing my surroundings allowed me to take a breath, and I made my voice deliberately casual. “It’s very cute that your wife makes you a hot lunch, and finds time to knit you sweaters. You must not be quite the bastard you seem to be.”
I thought he would blow up at me – yell or throw me out of his office – anything but what he actually did, which was cock his head to one side and study me.
“Sandra wants to drink lemon drops with you,” he finally said, as though he couldn’t imagine why his wife would do such a thing. Then he nodded once and indicated I should sit in the only other chair in the office. I perched on the edge of it, poised to flee at a moment’s notice if the conversation warranted it.
Alex studied his fingernails for long enough that I began to relax infinitesimally, which was a mistake, of course, as his next words illustrated when he finally looked up.
“Samantha Hane. S. Hane. Licensed as a private investigator in California three years ago, worked for The Agency in Los Angeles. Born and raised in Auburn, California. Father, deceased—”
I held a hand up to stop him. “Your point?”
“I don’t like mysteries, Miss Hane. I particularly don’t like lies.”
“I’ve never lied to you,” I said. I was defensive as hell, but I kept my tone even.
He considered me with an intensity that would have been swoony on any other man. On Alex Greene it bordered on psychopathic. “I tend to see things in zeroes and ones, Miss Hane. There are no degrees of truth. There is truth, and everything not true. When there are blanks, I fill them in. Mostly, I fill them in with the truth, but sometimes, when there isn’t enough truth, I get bored and creative, and that’s usually when people end up going to jail.”
My stomach lurched uncomfortably, and I felt cornered. “Why threaten me? Why even hire me?” I asked. “If you can hack someone so thoroughly, why don’t you just plant something on Quimby and take him down?” My voice was rising, and I struggled to get it back under control.
Alex quirked an eyebrow as though the question surprised him. “I don’t want to take Quimby down.”
“Why not? He’s definitely guilty of fraud, probably theft, certainly adultery, and God knows what else he’s into.”
Just then the door opened, and the very tall man I’d seen with Alex the day I accidentally left my real phone number for Gabriel entered the room. He filled it with his shoulders first and then with an aura that fairly screamed power, and I recognized him from my research about the company. He had also clearly been listening to our conversation somehow, because he didn’t miss a beat.
“It’s the ‘what else’ that is concerning,” Quinn Sullivan said quietly. “Alex can follow the cyber trails, but you seem to have the people skills to deal with the unpredictable human element, as you’ve already proven by the very efficient way you separated Quimby from his money.”
I stood as gracefully as I could manage to given the adrenaline that pumped through my body. I did it so I could look him in the eyes, but also so I didn’t feel like a little kid about to get punished. I inclined my head and reached out my hand to shake. “Quinn Sullivan,” I stated directly.
“Samantha Hane,” he answered as he shook my hand, our identities firmly established. The man was distractingly handsome, but all I could think about was how fragile my hand felt in his. I wasn’t fond of feeling fragile.
“Shane is fine.”
“Thank you for working with us, Shane. I’ve seen what you can do, and it’s impressive,” Quinn said solemnly.
“Really? Is that why the hacker here decided to investigate me?” I tossed my head aggressively in Alex’s direction. I was taking my digital life into my hands, but I was still rattled by the use of my real name – a name I’d taken pains to bury along with the memories of the girl who’d been born to it.
“Our contractors are subject to the same rigorous background checks as our employees. There were gaps in yours. Alex merely filled them,” Quinn explained with what might have been patience, in a voice threaded with steel. I realized I’d lose if I held on to my indignance, so I let it go.
“I’ve buried that information for a reason. I’d appreciate if it remains confidential,” I said in a tone that was as business-neutral as I could manage. My acquiescence seemed to surprise Quinn. I doubted Alex even noticed my tone shift. His attention had returned to his computer screen, and Quinn and I had become background noise.
“As are all employment files at Cipher,” Quinn said evenly.
I nodded. “Well then, since you obviously have a super-hacker on the case already, what do you need from me?”
There might have been the hint of a smile at the corner of Alex’s mouth, but it was gone before I could confirm its existence.
Quinn answered as he turned toward the door to leave. “From what you’ve gathered already, it appears that we need to focus your efforts on the bigger picture of ADDATA’s recent activity as it relates to Quimby’s finances. You appear to work well with Gabriel Eze – please continue to do so. I think you’ll find that you have compatible survival skills and complementary tactical ones.”
He nodded at me in farewell as he closed the door behind himself. Alex’s desk phone rang
, and I turned to acknowledge the end of the meeting. He seemed focused on his computer screen and didn’t pick up. On the third ring I finally said something.
“Are you going to get that, or should I?” I couldn’t successfully hide the snark in my voice, but Alex seemed unaffected by it.
“It’s for you,” he said.
Staring at him in shock for two more rings didn’t result in the call being answered, so I finally picked up the receiver.
“This is Shane,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it.
“Shane! This is Sandra. Can you come tonight for cocktails? Kat has a new recipe for lemon drops that uses thyme-infused vodka, and I promised we’d make them, but only if we have an impartial taster, and since you’re fabulous and I want to know you better, I want it to be you. Say yes?”
I tried not to stare at the phone. All those words sounded like they’d been spoken in one breath.
“Shane? Are you there?” Sandra asked.
“Sorry, I think I was waiting to see if you were done. That was … impressive.” This time I wasn’t mistaken about the smile lifting the corner of Alex’s mouth.
I half expected her to huff and hang up, but she didn’t even pause before she laughed. “You’re going to fit right in. Get the address from Alex and come at seven, okay?”
“Okay?” I couldn’t help the question on the end of the confirmation, because honestly, I had no idea what I’d just agreed to, and she hung up before I could ask.
I replaced the phone in its cradle. “Apparently I’m having drinks with your wife and someone named Kat tonight.”
Alex didn’t even meet my eyes as he placed a sticky note with an address on the edge of the desk for me. The half-smile was still there though, and on the face of this emotionless man, it was practically a declaration of love for the outrageous and seemingly remarkable woman that was his wife.
“Good luck,” he said quietly.
I left the office thinking that the hacker might not actually be the dangerous one in the Greene family.
24
Shane
“Girls night? Dude, it’s an actual thing. When guys aren’t around, they all strip down to bras and panties and have tickle fights.” – Overheard at a muffler shop
The rest of my day at Cipher Security was spent searching for any digital trace of Denise Quimby and gathering all the information we could find about ADDATA. Gabriel was called into a meeting with Quinn and Dan, and I left the office before he returned so I’d have time to shower and change before meeting Sandra and Kat.
Jorge was happy to study at my house after he took Oscar for a run, and his willingness to keep my hound company for the evening was the deciding factor that led to my presence outside the luxury condo building with security features that rivaled most foreign embassies.
I was expected, however, and the guard had even been given my description – or, considering the hacker and his skills, probably a photo from a security camera somewhere.
“Go right up, Miss Hane.” The guard smiled disarmingly as he swiped his card key on the lock and pressed number four. “Enjoy the lemon drops.”
His friendliness startled me into returning the smile. “Thanks.”
He gave me a small salute as the doors closed, and when they opened again on the fourth floor, Sandra was just walking down the hallway to meet me.
“Shane! I’m so glad you came!” She leaned in for an air kiss and then surprised me with a second one on the other side like Europeans do.
“I have to admit, there was an element of fear as I made my decision,” I smiled to lighten the statement, but it was utterly true.
Sandra laughed as she steered me toward a door with no number on it. “Alex is a teddy bear when you get to know him.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about the hacker,” I said, which made Sandra burst into a fresh peal of laughter as she led me inside their apartment.
The door was reinforced with something heavy, and the latch caught with a solid click. The room opened up into a long living room, with big, loungy sofas and low slipper chairs in neutral grays. The apartment had likely been designed by the same person who did the Cipher building lobby – warm wood tones and clean lines like a yacht from the 1930s – with bright accents that looked like light shining through stained glass around the room. Colorful art and pillows made of gorgeous woven fabric made the space feel like someone interesting lived there, and a remarkable Stormtrooper Sugar Skull print hanging behind the long sofa sealed the deal.
A lovely, lithe brunette sat on the sofa. She was younger than me, with doe eyes and stylishly messy hair that probably looked the same on the beach as it did in the boardroom. Her style was curiously buttoned up, despite having a face and figure that begged for bohemian bangles and flowing dresses.
Sandra introduced us as though we should already be friends. “Kat, this is the woman who is working with Gabriel and Dan on something for Quinn. Shane, this is Dan’s wife, Kat.”
That surprised me. This pearls-and-silk waif woman was married to the tattooed bruiser from South Boston? Fascinating. I crossed the room to shake her hand, and Kat looked up at me from the sofa with a careful expression and a genuine smile. “Dan said you were smart and fierce. He forgot to mention lovely.”
I scoffed in surprise. “I’ll take smart and fierce. Coming from him those are huge compliments.”
Sandra was pouring a drink from a pitcher on the sideboard. “Alex said Gabriel’s in trouble. I’m inclined to agree,” she said with a grin as she handed the cocktail to me and raised her own glass. “Welcome to Cipher, Shane.”
I raised my own glass and thanked them. The thyme-infused lemon drop was fantastic, and I knew it would be dangerous to do more than sip. I sat on one of the slipper chairs across from Sandra and Kat and had the fleeting instinct to bolt from the room. Why was I in a fabulous apartment with the fabulous wife of a hacker and her fabulous friend who just happened to the boss’s wife?
Apparently my face must have given away my momentary panic because Kat’s voice held the soothing tones of someone speaking to a cornered wild animal. “We’re actually not terrifying, I promise.”
I shook my head with a chuckle, then took a deep breath. “I’m going to have to respectfully disagree about that. You have no idea the willpower it’s taking to sit here and calmly sip this amazing cocktail.”
Sandra laughed. “Which part takes the willpower, sipping, or sitting?”
“Both?” I grinned back with surprising sincerity.
“Alex told me he pissed you off today.” Sandra sat criss-cross-applesauce on the sofa, and the position made her seem slightly more human.
“He’s … very good at his job,” I said carefully.
“Apparently, so are you. He actually had to do more than three searches to find you.” Sandra raised her glass to me again before taking a sip. “It’s an impressive feat for someone so clearly visible—” she waved her hand up and down in my direction, “to hide as well as you do.”
I winced, and Kat smiled at me. Her tone held sympathy. “Everything about this conversation is hard for you.”
I took a fortifying sip of my lemon drop. Layers of lemon, thyme, and vodka danced on my tongue as I dug for the courage I generally saved for things like breaking and entering, or blind dates with cheaters. I hadn’t been friends with women in so long that I felt out of my league, and that propelled me forward just on principle. “In my experience, women don’t generally like me. I’m too tall, or seem too confident, or I’m friends with their boyfriend. Whatever the reason, I’ve learned to avoid women before they turn on me, so I haven’t really developed good girlfriend skills. I had that going for me even before your husband hired me,” I looked at Kat, then turned to Sandra, “and your husband hacked me. So yeah, every molecule in my body is screaming at me to run before things get ugly.”
Those weren’t just flippant words. I’d chosen to isolate myself when I’d moved to Chicago, and eventually alone became a hab
it instead of a choice. I didn’t want that for myself, but I was the only one who could change it.
Sandra studied me over the rim of her glass. “So, you know I’m a therapist, right?”
I huffed a laugh and wondered if telepathy was one of her superpowers. “Van mentioned that you make men cry.”
Kat smirked at that, and Sandra smiled. “A useful skill, at times. What I don’t do is analyze my friends.”
“Why not?” I said, genuinely curious. “I mean, I assume you know them well enough to see all the cracks.”
She smiled. “Someone very dear to me once pointed out that supporting someone and fixing them are two different things. Loving and accepting all the broken pieces is the very definition of friendship.”
“That’s a good one,” I said. “The advice I got was ‘always know where your exits are’.”
Kat burst out laughing, and I was surprised at how honest the sound was. What had seemed improbable about her marriage to Dan suddenly made sense in a way that defied explanation. I’d had a similar disconnect with the idea of spectacular Sandra with scary hacker Alex, but watching him talk to her on the phone had helped clear up that one too.
Kat leaned forward. “You really are a private investigator?”
I nodded as I sipped the cocktail. “I needed a job when I got out of college, and my cousin a couple of times removed had a P.I. agency. He hired me for minimum wage and trained me to investigate personal injury claims. I worked under his license for three years until I had the hours to take the California license test.” I took a breath and found my courage. “Insurance fraud cases sucked though, so after my ex cheated on me, it was a pretty easy leap into tracking jerks like him.”
Sandra waved her hand at me and swallowed the sip she’d just taken. “Don’t even think you’re going to drop that bomb and walk away whistling. Spill.”
Code of Conduct (Cipher Security Book 1) Page 13
