Code of Conduct (Cipher Security Book 1)

by Smartypants Romance

  “Already did,” Alex answered.

  That surprised us both, so Alex continued. “While you were up north, we sent a team into ADDATA and Karpov’s apartment. We found three safes and a safety deposit box, but the only thing of note was the amount of cash Karpov keeps on hand. No hard drives, thumb drives, physical servers, or paper files of any kind.”

  Something didn’t sound right. “Karpov lives in an apartment?” I asked.

  Alex grimaced. “Barely furnished even if it is prime real estate.”

  That didn’t fit with the country club, photo op lifestyle he’d cultivated. “Have we done a property check on him in any other state?”

  “Karpov’s father was a Russian national,” said Jorge as his fingers flew over the keyboard, “so … State Department?” I glanced at Alex, who had gone silent except for clacking keys. The State Department was a much bigger nut than I could ever hope to crack and therefore not my problem, so I turned to Gabriel and held out a hand. He took it in both of his big, calloused palms.

  “Are you okay?” I murmured.

  Something unreadable flitted across his face before he nodded at the computer screen where Alex’s fingers on his keyboard had gone silent again. I returned my attention to my screen, and Gabriel kissed my knuckles and let go.

  “Karpov owns a luxury yacht,” Alex said quietly.

  “What? Why?” I asked, before I could think about the inanity of the question.

  “Registered in Canada without an easy trace to its real owner,” Jorge finished. Alex nodded silent agreement.

  Alex confirmed. “The money for it came through a shell company owned by Karpov’s father.”

  A message from Alex pinged my inbox. I heard the same message hit Jorge’s computer, and I opened it to find the registration details for the Nachthexen.

  “He named his boat after the WWII Night Witches?” I asked, incredulous.

  “The Russian women pilots who flew balsa wood airplanes to drop bombs on the Germans?” Gabriel made a face.

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  “On Lake Michigan,” Alex said as another e-mail landed in our boxes with a satellite image of the Great Lakes attached. A red circle indicated a vessel just offshore about halfway up the coast on the Michigan side of the lake.

  “The Great Lakes have some funky maritime laws,” Jorge said, reading his screen. “They’re considered the ‘high seas,’ and US and Canadian boats have the same uninhibited access to them.”

  “Which maybe explains the Canadian registration,” I said, “but might put that boat in tricky legal water – excuse the pun – if there’s any criminal activity aboard.” Both Jorge and Gabriel winced at my word choice, but Gabriel gestured for me to finish my thought. “They could be under both state, provincial, and federal jurisdiction, which, depending on the crime, could be a giant pain in the propeller.”

  Jorge rolled his eyes at my cleverness, but Gabriel looked thoughtful.

  Alex was still tapping away at his keyboard. “I’m into the Nachthexen satellite, so I’ve got navigation and … communications.”

  “Can you get me in too? I’ll help you look,” Jorge said with that tiny edge of happiness he usually reserved for my dog.

  While they geeked out on their hackery, I got up to put the electric kettle on for tea. Gabriel followed me into the kitchen.

  “I feel like whatever they’re hiding is on that boat,” he said quietly.

  “What happened at the police station?” I asked.

  He shook his head dismissively. “It’s fine. Sullivan threw his weight around and pissed off some cops.”

  I studied Gabriel by the dim under-cabinet lights. Long shadows rimmed his eyes, and he looked worn out. I touched his face, scruffy from two days-worth of beard growth. “You should sleep.”

  His eyes searched mine, and he turned his face to kiss my palm. “So should you.”

  “Not while there’s a chance Quimby could get out,” I said grimly. Quinn Sullivan had briefed me and Alex about the situation with Gabriel at the police station, and if Quimby somehow managed to get out of custody, it put Gabriel in line to go back in, according to the lies Quimby had fed them.

  “Exactly,” he said, his gaze locked on mine.

  I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was curl up in his arms and slip into a coma.

  He pulled me in for a gentle kiss on the forehead then propelled me out of the kitchen. “Gentlemen?” Gabriel spoke to Alex on the screen of my computer, but included Jorge in his gaze. “We need to catch a couple hours of sleep. Do you mind if we grab it now while you’re still here to wake us if things change?”

  I almost pulled away from Gabriel’s arm in protest at his assumption, but he wasn’t wrong that we both needed sleep, and it would be better to do it now while the super-brains did their thing.

  “Fine with me,” Jorge said with a shrug. “I’ll hang with the hound and take him out for a run when it gets light if you want.”

  I smiled at him in thanks, and he darted a quick glance at Gabriel as his lip quirked up in his version of a question mark.

  Alex was still typing and didn’t look up. “We’ll wake you when we’ve found something useful.”

  Jorge had returned his focus to his computer screen, and Alex was clearly done communicating with words, so Gabriel stopped at the couch long enough to scratch my dog’s ears before he gently pushed me out of the room.

  I stumbled through tooth-brushing and contact lens removal and wondered if he would still be in my apartment when I emerged. He’d made a big assumption by forcing the issue of sleep, but it would be a massive one if he presumed we’d share a bed. I tried to examine the thought but couldn’t hold it in my head long enough to decide how I felt about it.

  Gabriel was still there when I was done in the bathroom, and he kissed me quickly on the lips as I passed him in the doorway. I liked that and decided to shut down all conversation in my brain that got in the way of keeping it simple.

  He kissed me. I liked it. Simple.

  I pulled off my clothes and leg, changed into a soft t-shirt and clean shorts, and then hopped over to open the heavy drapes. There were still two hours until dawn, and sunlight on my face would guarantee that I didn’t oversleep.

  I had just burrowed under the cold covers when Gabriel came out of the bathroom. I could hear the clank of his belt as he took off his jeans and listened for the rasp of his sweater as he pulled it over his head. A moment later he slid under the covers next to me.

  “Roll over,” he whispered into my hair.

  In the interest of keeping it simple, I turned over so my back was to his front. He gathered me to him and fitted his body around mine, pulled me close at the waist, and curled his arm up against my chest.

  He sighed deeply and whispered, “Good night.” I felt my body settle into his like the pieces of a puzzle fitted together. I was asleep in the space between breaths.

  41

  Shane

  “Don’t leave the dragon out of your calculations if you live near the treasure vault.” – Jorge Gonzales

  “Get up guys, He’s out.”

  My eyelids snapped open at the sound of Jorge’s slightly frantic whisper, and sunlight seared them temporarily blind.

  I took stock in the moment it took me to regain my sight. I was in my room and had been dead asleep for … I squinted at the bright sunlight glaring into the room – maybe three hours? Gabriel’s warm body was wrapped around me, and his heavy arm lay across my chest. His hand cupped one of my breasts, and I felt him harden against my back as he returned to consciousness. He didn’t move his hand.

  I didn’t want him to.

  I did, however, have to deal with the mortified eighteen-year-old in my bedroom.

  “I’m awake,” I croaked. “Say it again.”

  “It’s Quimby – they let him go for lack of evidence. Some guy named Quinn just called Alex, and he told me to wake you up.” Jorge was looking ev
erywhere but at me, which meant his gaze kept getting snagged by things like my leg, my halfway open underwear drawer, and the bra I’d tossed onto the chair in the corner. I would have laughed if could have gotten past the clenching stomach his words had inspired.

  “Shit,” Gabriel murmured into my hair.

  “Okay, out,” I ordered Jorge. He scrambled out of the room so fast he practically lunged for the door. Gabriel rolled me over to face him, and my breath caught. The man was beautiful, even at close range after almost no sleep. It wasn’t fair. He held my face in the hand that was still warm from my breast, and he looked at me as if he was devouring me with his eyes. I flushed with heat as his thumb traced my bottom lip, and I slid my hand up his side, amazed at how smooth his skin felt beneath my fingers. He made a sound deep in his throat and was about to kiss me when scrabbling claws on the wood floor made me clench my eyes shut in anticipation.

  Whomp! Oscar landed on the bed like a furry bomb, and Gabriel grunted in surprise. “Get off, beast!” he said sharply, and Oscar froze for the span of one second before he swiped Gabriel in the face with his tongue and leapt off the bed.

  “Ugh! I’m up.” He sat up and wiped the slobber off his face with the back of his hand. I buried my face under the covers so he wouldn’t see me laugh, but it was no good. My back shook with it, and he lifted the covers and got down under them with me.

  It was pitch black under there, but I could feel his face about three inches from mine. I stifled my giggles, and he touched my face. “We need to get you out of the city,” he said quietly.

  “We need to get you out of the city,” I said defiantly.

  “I’m not the one the guy with the gun wants,” he said with an edge of frustration that I ignored.

  “No, you’re the one the guy with the gun wants to frame. I’ll go down there and give the cops Denise Quimby, and let them sort it all out.”

  I pulled the covers off our heads, which was a mistake because my eyes were immediately drawn to his very broad shoulders and very bare chest. God, he was beautiful. I sighed in appreciation, then dragged my eyes back up to his face to see a tiny, self-satisfied smirk.

  I was still so tired that whatever filters I normally used had gone into hibernation. “It’s very hard to concentrate with all your skin staring me in the face. You’re going to have to cover up so I can argue with you properly.”

  Oscar stood at alert, and I realized the bedroom door was still open.

  “Guys?” Jorge called down the hall. “There are people here. In suits.” The way Jorge said “suits” was as though there were badges attached to them.

  Oscar bolted out of the bedroom, and I was suddenly terrified that he’d bite someone and get taken from me. I threw off the covers and yelled for him as I struggled to my foot.

  “Oscar! No!”

  It would have taken too long to put my leg on, so I hopped to the bedroom door and called again. “Oscar!”

  “He’s fine, Shane,” Jorge called from the living room, just as I got to the door frame.

  I grabbed it and held myself upright, my breath coming hard from effort, and from a little panic at the thought that my dog could have gone after someone who could take him from me.

  I rested my forehead against the wall to calm my pounding heart, then turned to find Gabriel right behind me. He held out my leg. “Here,” he said quietly. “Use me for support if you need to.”

  I took the leg and hopped back to my bed where I sat on the edge and worked the sleeve onto the stump of my leg. “I thought he would bite someone,” I said without looking at the man who’d stood in his underwear holding my leg out to me.

  He hadn’t jumped up and said, “I’ll go get him.” Instead, he’d brought me my leg and said with his actions, I’ll support you to go get him.

  I didn’t know if it had been a conscious decision, or even if he was aware he’d done it, but I fought back tears and swallowed the frog that had crawled its way up from my chest to my throat and taken up residence there.

  I felt Gabriel’s eyes on me a long moment, and then he pulled on his jeans and sweater.

  “There are clean socks in the top drawer,” I said, finally looking up. “I can wash yours and get them back to you.”

  He opened his mouth to maybe protest, but then looked at the size of my foot, which was probably only a size smaller than his, and opened the drawer I had indicated. “Sorry, they’re all singles, but they’re mostly the same kind,” I said.

  “Do you want one?” he asked me.

  “Yeah, thanks.” I locked my normal walking leg into place and then got a clean pair of underwear out of my drawer. Gabriel noticed and turned to leave the room.

  “I’ll just …” he said, indicating the bathroom down the hall. I nodded silently and he left, closing the door behind him.

  I blew out a shaky breath. What was wrong with me? Why did I suddenly get so weepy and fragile?

  I grabbed black jeans, a black t-shirt with Fights Like a Girl emblazoned on it, and combat boots. It was armor, and it worked. My spine straightened, my brain cleared, and my focus sharpened as I walked down the hall.

  Gabriel was in the kitchen making coffee, and he caught my eye with a nod. Jorge stood by the dining table where he’d been presumably working. I saw that he’d showered and changed, which meant he must have taken Oscar for a run sometime while we slept.

  There were three other men and two women in the room as well, and my small apartment was indeed full of suits. I scanned the room for familiar faces in the space it took me to inhale.

  “Good morning, everyone,” I said to the room at large, beginning with Dan O’Malley, whose smirk made me feel unaccountably feisty. “How can we help you?”

  Van Hayden stood in a corner with his back to a wall, arms crossed in front of him. His eyebrow went up at the “we,” and then he shot a glance at Gabriel as he came out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee. He handed me one and then sat on the couch next to Oscar with the other. “Coffee’s ready if anyone wants some,” he said to the room as he scratched Oscar’s ears. My dog rolled over and presented his belly for a rub, which Gabriel provided.

  I leaned against the arm of a chair and sipped my coffee.

  A small, dark-haired woman a couple of years older than me stopped on her way to the kitchen. “I’m Fiona. Sorry about barging in, but Quinn thought it would be good for us to meet before tonight.”

  I shook her hand. Tonight? Her grip was shockingly strong, and I realized that despite her slight build, she was solid muscle. “Nice to meet you, Fiona. I’m Shane, and you already know Gabriel?” I said the last part hesitantly, but Fiona nodded with a smile.

  “I met him in Nigeria a couple of years ago. It’s my fault he got hooked up with this lot,” she tossed her head at the rest of the suits in the room, and then looked down at my cup. “Mind if I go get some coffee? We have a new kitten, and my kids were up pre-crack to play with it.”

  “Please help yourself,” I said as Dan emerged from the kitchen with a cup and sat down in the other chair, clearly intent on speaking to me.

  “Quinn’s talking to the chief of police about CPD’s fuck up, so he couldn’t be here. He wants you and Gabriel out of town, preferably within the hour if you can swing it. Alex and the wonder kid here,” he indicated Jorge, who was blatantly eavesdropping, “have pinpointed the location of Karpov’s yacht, which we’re going to hit tonight once we determine how many bodies are on board to deal with.”

  Bodies? I must have looked shocked, because Fiona, who had returned with her own coffee, elbowed Dan in the ribs. “Ass. Don’t make the woman think you’re actually nuts.”

  “I’m a little bit nuts,” Dan smirked, “because the thought of pitching bodies off that nutbag’s boat gives me a thrill.” He gave an exaggerated shiver, and Fiona caught my eye.

  “We’re not killing anyone,” she said in a tone that I thought every mother should have in her arsenal.

  “We’re not? Well, damn!” Van said
as he joined the conversation. “I was hoping that little shit Quimby would be there and I’d get some target practice in.”

  “You people are weird,” Jorge said with a shake of his head.

  Dan suddenly seemed to remember there was a youth in the room, and he straightened up. “So, Dallas and Darius, you guys are the only ones who don’t know Shane, right?” He got the attention of the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman and the handsome, Disney prince talking to Gabriel. They looked over at me and nodded their greetings, and I tried not to notice how pretty Dallas was, or, for that matter, Darius either.

  Dan continued talking to the room at large. “Shane and Gabriel are lead on this case. We brought you all in as support to finish this thing tonight, since the fucking CPD believed the squeaky little handjobber and let him go.”

  Fascinating. Dan O’Malley had established Gabriel and me at the head of a job for which we’d just been volun-told. So now, essentially, anything else he said would appear to be our idea that he was merely delivering to the troops. A startlingly effective tactic that I needed to learn.

  Gabriel stepped into the fray and directed his words to the assembled group. “Could everyone run down your skill set and assets so the rest of the group knows who we’re working with?”

  Another solid tactic, and delivered in a quiet, confident voice that spoke of an easy relationship with command. It was ridiculously attractive.

  Fiona looked around, then spoke. “Fiona Archer, electrical engineer by education, former CIA by training, now mom, wife, and occasional consultant for Cipher Security. I have black belts in Kendo and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and in my previous life I was an Olympic gymnast.”

  Damn. I was impressed. Van went next. “Van Hayden, former criminal prosecutor, current Cipher Security agent. Firearms and explosives expert for SWAT training in Wisconsin and Minnesota. Basically, I blow shit up.”

  Gabriel glanced up sharply, and I was intrigued at the variety of credentials in the room.