A Covert Conquest

by Ravenna Tate

  This was no way to live. Barclay missed his home in Houston. He missed the museums and the gardens in his birth city. He missed the incredible food and live music, and he missed the water. The real ocean and real rivers, not this fake shit that didn’t look or smell real to him and never would. They could try to make SouthCentral look like Texas used to look all they wanted, but anyone over the age of twelve would know the difference.

  Barclay wanted to go home. All the Weathermen wanted to go home.

  He returned to his desk and the project he’d been working on when Rissa called, but his mind wandered back to their conversation. Rissa had been employed at his company for just under a year, and he certainly had noticed her. She worked on one of the teams under a supervisor who reported directly to him. He had over two thousand employees, but Rissa would have been difficult to miss no matter where in the building she worked.

  She was younger than he was, but that had never stopped him. He had a thing for blue eyes, and hers reminded him of the summer sky—the real summer sky, that is. She wore her hair long and straight, and the color was a cross between caramel and butterscotch. She’d earned both her undergrad and graduate degrees in IT, which wasn’t uncommon anymore, and had been waiting tables when she’d first applied for one of his teams.

  IT jobs in any company didn’t come up as often as they once had because the degrees were too common now, and few people left the jobs once they had them. Her supervisor, Ed Shraam, hadn’t wanted to hire her because of her lack of experience, but Barclay had been intrigued with her during the interview, and not only because she was so pretty. She’d brought along an impressive list of projects from her graduate days, so he’d asked Ed to give her a chance. Neither man had been disappointed.

  Rissa never missed work, she didn’t goof off like so many younger members of the teams did, and she’d recovered some data that most of his senior recovery specialists hadn’t been able to find. She had a talent for this kind of work, and those were the kind of people he needed here.

  He’d never asked her out because he, like many of his fellow Weathermen, had been burned dating employees in the past. Barclay preferred to seek female company from outside this building. It made things less complicated.

  So why are you dwelling on her now?

  He rose again and paced his office, wishing he’d brought along something else to do besides work. This was going to be a long night. The train had left NorthCentral at two in the afternoon, and was due to stop in Central by midnight. It would leave Central at one in the morning, and arrive here in SouthCentral by ten. He could go home and sleep if he really wanted to, but he was too damn wired. If something went wrong, he’d need to be here anyway, so he might as well stay.

  Nothing will go wrong.

  Everything was riding on this damn laptop. Sitting here thinking about Rissa’s call only made that realization more urgent. He debated for fifteen minutes what to tell the others, knowing that even with the time differences, Kane, Atticus, and Emmett would likely still be awake and working. Atticus would be, at any rate. Emmett might be with Liane, and Kane might be with Julianne, but he still knew he could email all of them any time of the day or night. They’d always been that way. Dedicated, hard-working, and willing to drop everything to help each other.

  This wasn’t a true emergency, but it was information they needed to know. Assuming what Rissa had heard was correct. He’d feel like a damn fool if he bothered them with this and it turned out to be untrue, or she’d misinterpreted what she’d heard.

  “Fuck.” He knew what he had to do, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her again, but doing so would make it that much more difficult to stick to his rule of never dating an employee. Why hadn’t he grilled her more when she’d called? He’d been so stunned at what she’d told him that he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

  At any rate, even if he did call her back and ask her to repeat everything, or have her come here and tell him, what would that prove? She had no reason to lie to him. He’d heard in her voice the truth of what she believed she’d overheard in that bathroom. She had no additional information to give him.

  Maybe you’re trying to invent a reason to see her in person?

  Maybe he was. Or maybe he was merely trying to have his ducks in a row before he told this to his friends. Either way, he already knew he was going to call her.

  She didn’t answer, but less than a minute later he received a text from her.

  I’m going outside to call you back. I don’t want anyone overhearing me.

  Barclay waited for his phone to ring like a teen expecting a call from a girl he had a crush on. This was ridiculous. When it did, he forced himself to wait two rings before answering.

  “I’m glad you called back,” she said. His pulse raced at those words. Had she heard something else? “I was about to text you or call you again, regardless. As soon as I got back inside the building, Olivia was at the bridal table, bitching about the break-in.”

  “Is she in the wedding?”

  “No, and I was curious about that, too, and finally out found out why she’s not. She’s very close to Sallie, but she wasn’t asked to be in it because Sallie hates Rob.”

  Barclay smiled at the familiar way she was feeding him gossip, as if they were friends.

  “Anyway, she was telling the other bridesmaids about the laptop being taken, but I didn’t want her to see me so I stayed behind the partition next to the table. She has a very distinctive voice so I could still hear her.”

  “What did she say about it?”

  “She’s pretty drunk, and I have no clue where Rob was all this time, but she was on a roll without him there to shush her up. Listen to this. She said—”

  His heart sank. “If she’s that drunk, how do you know what she’s saying is even true?”

  “Because Rob isn’t drunk. He hasn’t had anything to drink all night but water. One of the groomsmen told me he never drinks. Says he needs to keep his mind sharp or something like that.”

  That was good. It validated what she’d heard from those two earlier.

  “So, Olivia was bitching about the break-in, and how upset Rob was that his second laptop was gone, and she said there was information on it that he didn’t want anyone to find. One of the bridesmaids laughed and asked, ‘Why not? Is he a spy or something?’ Everyone got really quiet when she asked.”

  Barclay stood and began to pace again. “Please tell me she spilled her guts.”

  “Not quite, but I think you’ll find this useful. She said he wasn’t a spy, but he knows who took it.”

  “She knows you work for me, right?”

  “She knows, but no one knew I was there.”

  Barclay frowned. Should he tell Rissa how dangerous this could be for her? She needed to stay the hell away from Olivia and Rob.

  “So someone asked who took it, and she said, and I quote, ‘One of those fucking Weathermen. Rob is sure of it.’”

  Barclay was practically foaming at the mouth now. “Go on.”

  “Well, they all started talking about each of you, but it was just the same stuff as in the tabloids…”

  Her voice trailed off, and he knew he had to jump in and say something because he didn’t want her to stop now. “Don’t worry. We know what’s in them. What else did Olivia say about the laptop?”

  “Someone finally asked her why Rob was sure it was one of you, and she told them because he had information on there about each of your companies, and that all of you are out to get him. When they pressed her to elaborate, Rob came back and she changed the subject.”

  So she couldn’t be too drunk. “How do you know Rob came back?”

  “I heard his big mouth, asking her where the hell she’d been.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “No.”

  Barclay sighed. She really did need to get out of there, and that fact had nothing to do with his earlier musings about her. He didn’t trust Rob or Olivia. None of the Weatherme
n did. And tonight of all nights was no time for one of his employees to be hanging out with either of the Marins. “Rissa, where are you right now?”

  “I’m outside again. Why?”

  “How much longer do you need to stay at this wedding?”

  “I don’t need to stay. No one would even notice if I left.”

  Which means she didn’t go there with a date.

  Stop that!

  “But why are you asking me all this?” Her voice held a note of alarm. “You’re kind of scaring me.”

  “Where is the reception? I’m coming to get you.”

  “Barclay, what’s going on?”

  “I’d rather tell you in person. Where is it?”

  “Miller’s. Do you know it?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay out of sight of those two. Promise me.”

  “Good lord. Tell me why.”

  “I don’t trust them. Fifteen minutes.”

  He disconnected the call and left the building before he changed his mind. No matter his true motive for arranging to see her in person tonight, she did need to stay clear of Rob Marin. The rest would sort itself out.

  Chapter Three

  Rissa stared at her phone. Was he out of his freaking mind? This was insane. What the hell was going on? Had one of them really stolen Rob’s laptop? But why? He’d said he didn’t trust Rob Marin, and had asked if Olivia knew she worked for him. That must mean what Olivia said was true. Her boss or one of his friends had taken Rob’s laptop. What the hell were they looking for?

  He was coming to get her in less than fifteen minutes, and she was in this hideous dress with no clothes to change into. Shit.

  It figured. Her super-hot boss was coming to rescue her from the bad guys and she’d have to ride off on his white horse in a bright turquoise mess of taffeta, with a bustle yet! No. She had to do something about this.

  Rissa wasn’t afraid of Rob or Olivia. She marched back inside and went straight into the same bathroom where she’d heard them arguing. The bustle came off easily enough once she tugged hard, but it left strings hanging. Too bad. This was the most hideous dress she’d ever been forced to buy. At least it wasn’t floor length, but the horrible color offset that practicality. No way would she ever wear it again, even without the offending mess of material now gone from the back.

  She had no time to run home and change, then return here, but she could call Barclay back and tell him she was going home instead of staying put. Why did he think he needed to see her in person? She’d told him all she knew and had heard. If he had a problem with Rob or Olivia, he should be talking to them, not her. Rissa wanted no part of this subterfuge.

  Tossing the bustle in the trash, she strolled back outside and called her boss. “I’m heading home instead. This dress is making me crazy. It itches.” She didn’t want to tell him that she hadn’t wanted him to see her in such a ridiculous garment.

  “Then I’ll meet you at home.”

  “Why? Rob and Olivia didn’t see me leave. I’m already on my way. I’m not in danger.”

  His hesitation made her stop moving. Was there something he wasn’t telling her? “Barclay? What’s really going on? Why was it so important I leave the wedding?”

  “I’d rather explain all this in person. I’ll meet you at your apartment.”

  What? Of course he’d have her address. She worked for him. But that still didn’t explain what the fuck was really going on here, and she was suddenly tired of the intrigue. “All right. Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  She disconnected the call, not caring if she’d sounded rude just now. This was the weirdest evening she’d had in a very long time. To top it off, now she was paranoid and kept glancing over her shoulder as she hurried home. There were plenty of people around, and the city was lit up at night, but everything Barclay had said now spooked her.

  She made it home in seven minutes, but her legs hurt by the time she kicked off the turquoise heels. Leaving them on the floor, she made her way into her room and stripped off the dress. She’d love a quick shower, but there was no time. Instead, she left on the turquoise bra and panties, and donned her favorite t-shirt and shorts. At least the dress was gone.

  Sallie had insisted on the matching underwear and shoes. The shoes Rissa could understand, but the underwear? Who in the heck worries about what their bridesmaids wear under their clothes? She’d had enough of being in a wedding party to last a lifetime.

  She picked up the dress and tossed it into her closet. Rissa sprinted into the main room when she heard the buzzer. She pushed the button to let her boss in. The building had a security camera at each entrance so she knew it was him.

  She’d been living underground for seven years and could count on one hand the number of times a man had been inside her apartment. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to date, but losing Harry to a flood above ground had sent her into a tailspin for several years. She’d kept her head down and buried herself in her studies.

  Now, she found it frustrating to try to find a guy she wanted to spend any time with. Either her standards were too high, or all the men in this city were immature assholes. Harry Streator had been her boyfriend since both turned fourteen, and they’d been engaged before they left high school. She measured every man against that relationship, and all of them fell short.

  Her boss was neither immature nor an asshole, but he was her employer. More than that, he was the man who owned the company she worked for. Rissa knew he didn’t date anyone at work, but he certainly never lacked for female company, if the tabloids could be believed.

  Besides, this wasn’t a date. She had no clue what it was, but she knew it wasn’t a date.

  He knocked, and she opened the door, swallowing hard at the sight of him in person. His presence always unnerved her because he was so damn good-looking, and he radiated confidence.

  “Come on in.” She moved aside, then closed the door and glanced around in time to see him checking her out. Great. She wasn’t sure whether to be offended or thrilled, then remembered the odd events of the evening. That’s why he was here.

  “So, am I out of danger now?”

  His sheepish grin was too damn sexy, and she pushed away the erotic thoughts that always seemed to fill her head when he was near. Actually, they accompanied any communication she had with him, whether it was in person or via email.

  “Yes, I suppose you are. As long as you weren’t followed.”

  “Are you being serious now?”

  “No. I’m teasing.”

  He was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, which she realized she’d never seen him in. At the office every day it was a suit and tie. Then again, she never had occasion to work off hours, and she imagined he dressed this way outside of the typical work week all the time.

  “Would you like to sit down?” She waved a hand toward the sofa. “Do you want anything to drink?”

  “Only if you’re having something.”

  She watched his ass move in those jeans as he walked toward the sofa, then forced her feet to move into her tiny kitchen. Taking a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge, she poured them each a glass. She could use a shot of tequila in hers but resisted the urge to sneak it in.

  “Here you go. I made this earlier.”

  His smile turned wistful. “Remember making it in the sun? The real sun?”

  She took a seat next to him. “I sure do. Wonder if we’ll ever have those days back again.”

  “That’s why we took Rob’s laptop, Rissa. We’re trying to make that happen.”

  She’d been about to take a sip, but the quiet conviction in his voice stopped her. She stared into Barclay’s hazel eyes, hardly daring to believe what she’d just heard.

  “So you did take it.”

  “Not me, personally. Viggo Ingram has associates who staged a break-in and took it, along with a few other things to make it look legit.”

  Rissa knew that name. Viggo headed up one of the largest prope
rty management and community planning companies in the world. He also developed real estate, and owned more apartment and condo complexes than she could keep up with.

  “What’s on it?” Why else would they take it if not to recover something on the hard drive?

  He took a long sip. “This is very good.”

  “Thanks.”

  She sipped hers, too, keeping her gaze on his face. The man was seriously gorgeous. He had the most unusual colored eyes she’d ever seen. They went well with his thick, brown hair. He also needed a shave, which made her want to reach out and touch him. But she needed to keep her hormones in check. This man was a player, and she didn’t want to become anyone’s next conquest.

  “We intercepted a conversation he had with another suspected hacker, leading us to believe both men know who took down The Madeline Project.”

  Holy shit! “Rob Marin had a hand in that?”

  He grinned again, and Rissa really wished he’d stop doing that. No wonder women threw themselves at this man. He was charming without having to say a word. “Okay. Tell me why you asked it that way.”

  “I only met him tonight and honestly, the man doesn’t strike me as having enough intelligence to decipher or write complex code. He called his wife a stupid bitch, among other choice names, and he’s a typical short, loud-mouthed man who wants everyone to see him and hear him.”

  Barclay chuckled, crossed one knee over the opposite ankle, and regarded her with an interested expression on his face. “You’re a quick judge of character, in addition to a very talented data miner.”

  He knew her work? Her face colored slightly. She knew it had happened because the room was suddenly too warm. “Thank you for the compliment on my work. And yes, I do jump to conclusions about people quickly.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. Our first impressions are usually the most accurate, not only about people, but most situations.”

  Did that intense expression in his eyes and the slight change in tone to his voice carry a hidden meaning? Was he talking about more than Rob Marin and the stolen laptop? She narrowed her eyes as she remembered Olivia mentioning Ace. She knew that name, too. Ace Easton owned a communications company and was one of the Weathermen. But had Rob actually worked for him? It didn’t fit.