“Reeves, please meet CIA Officer Darcy Wilson, who has flown on the red-eye from DC to meet with you.”
The beauty flushed. Bright crimson blotches appeared on her neck and moved upward, spotting her face, and making her green eyes appear brighter. Freckles were sprinkled across her pert nose. Even with her two-inch heels, the top of her head barely brought her up to his shoulder.
What was his problem? His mind was focused on how well she filled out her tight skirt instead of the “CIA” part of Darcy Wilson and the fact that she had flown to Seattle to see him.
Ms. Wilson hesitated before she offered her hand. “Mr. Hewitt, thank you. I appreciate you meeting with me with little notice.”
His hand engulfed hers. Sparks of awareness shot down his spine at her mere touch. Reeves held her hand longer than expected, unable to sever the electrical energy sparking between them. Her eyes shot up to his. She stared at him with a direct openness, almost an intimacy. Heat flooded his body, his mind suspended by the raw and honest connection.
He kept her hand in his as he absorbed the delicate angle of her face, the tiny scar that ran across her eyebrow, and the mole next to her lip begging to be kissed. He was close enough to see amber glimmers in her sea-green eyes.
What had Sophie done to him? He was acting so out of character that it was downright scary.
She pulled her hand away and marched with a ramrod spine to her seat. And shit, shit. He had to look, his eyes disobeying the higher parts of his brain pointing out that his behavior was unprofessional. He repeated, “CIA … CIA” to himself, but, unable to control his lower male self, all he could do was track her sweet ass.
“You’re going to be surprised by the reason Ms. Wilson is here.”
Reeves pulled his shit together and followed Richard to the table. He seated himself across from her.
“If you’re not here about our latest patch to our software … then you’re here to recruit me, and your trip was wasted.”
Richard chuckled. It was a bit eerie to have his severe boss smiling and laughing like a good ol’ boy.
Darcy Wilson stiffened, which was pretty difficult since she already sat at attention. He had enough meetings with the military and spent a lot of time with the oorah Marine Jenkins and associates to recognize the training.
“You used to be military before the CIA?”
Her head snapped up. “What does it matter?”
“Just interested. And since I don’t know why you’re here …”
She cleared her throat and exhaled loudly enough that he could hear her across the seven-foot table. His boss was all about power statements.
“I’ve been ordered to ask for your assistance on a matter of national security.”
Reeves could barely keep from laughing. By her choice of words and her pinched lips, Darcy Wilson was not happy with her assignment.
“I’m all ears to hear how can I help the CIA and you, Ms. Wilson.” Not to be an egotist, but the CIA could benefit from his skills, though he’d never last under all the restrictions and rules. Richard Dean appreciated Reeves’s need for independence and gave him a wide berth in how he performed his work.
Her lips pressed tightly together with her lower lip tucked underneath and her pert freckled nose scrunched up in disapproval was endearing. And what was wrong with him that he was captivated by this one woman? She was a CIA officer, and he was focused on her every single movement, the slight changes in her color, every little nuance, like how she kept her plump lips compressed as if she was trying to hold the words in.
“What I’m about to disclose cannot be shared with anyone. Do you understand?”
“I’m sure my security clearance covers whatever secret you’re about to reveal.”
He liked the way the buttons on her blouse looked as if they might pop when she exhaled in irritation. Why was she so easy to rattle? CIA officers were trained in subterfuge and manipulation. How did she ever function undercover?
“The game that you designed with your college buddies has been used in acts against the government of the United States.”
All the air left his lungs in one gigantic swoop as it had yesterday when Lars flipped him flat on his back during their Krav Maga workout.
“Who has done what?”
“We believe that Snakes Ahead was used to access the servers of two American embassies seventy-two hours ago. They are now locked, and the hackers demand a ransom to give control over to the embassies. Of course, the US doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, but the information they’ve taken is classified, and it’s vital that we find who used the game.”
“Was the attack Thanos? It’s the latest variant of ransomware in the Middle East and North Africa. Which embassies were attacked? If it’s what I suspect, the ransomware will be configured to overwrite the MBR unless they get their money. It would mean the server and all files will be erased, and we’ll have no chance to get them back. The ransomware often uses the overwrite of the MBR to display the same ransom message. The bigger issue, though, is that the hackers might have made a mirror site and copied the information.”
“Mr. Hewitt, I’m a field agent, not a cybersecurity officer. I’ve been sent here to gather information about the game developers and who, besides yourself and Theodore Thompson, would be able to reconfigure the game to gain access for the attack.”
“Did the ransomware leave a message on how to retrieve the files?”
“I’m not at liberty to share all the details of the attack.”
“Overwriting the MBR—the master boot record—is a more destructive approach to ransomware than usual. It would require an incredible effort to recover their files—even if you paid the ransom.” By the blank look on her face, he was losing her. He was used to watching people’s eyes shutter with his techspeak. When his brain was firing, the words were like an overflow valve to help him process.
“Mr. Hewitt. The CIA has an incredible cyber team who are handling the malware. I need to find who perpetrated the attack, not try to crack the ransomware. How easy would it be to hack into the game to use it for malicious intent?”
“Video games have loads of hackers who want to score higher, so they develop cheat apps. I’d like to believe our game is impenetrable. Despite my confidence in my ability and Tex’s and Charlie’s, there is a possibility that someone was able to penetrate the firewalls. The probability is very low … very low. But it’s been years since I’ve paid any attention to the game. We hired a management company to oversee the business aspects of the game.”
She leaned forward, her forearms on the table, giving Reeves a glimpse of her pale skin in the V of her blouse. “But you were playing the game last night.”
“And how do you know about my playing?” He mimicked her position. “You and the CIA spying on XChoco and me?”
At least she had the grace to blush. The color quickly moved up her chest to her neck and across her cheekbones. Quite a reaction for an accusation that the CIA received regularly. Unless she was XChoco. It couldn’t be possible that this serious woman was the bold and skilled gamer, could it? Her uptight suit and no-nonsense bearing didn’t match up with the XChoco who spent three hours gaming. But his gut and other body parts were stirring that this bundle of a tiny woman was the XChoco he had been fantasizing about.
“As you pointed out, there are few people who have the ability to hack your game. You must see that you are a potential suspect as one of the developers of the game. Mr. Dean understands our reasoning.”
Reeves jerked his head to look at Richard. Why didn’t he trust the way Richard Dean was nodding at Darcy Wilson?
“It was a logical deduction on Ms. Wilson’s part to consider you and Thompson as suspects. Who else could get through your firewalls? I’m sure your game design protects players from intrusion. The CIA has to consider the possibility that for the right price, one of you may have sold the game to the highest bidder.”
Why was Richard ignoring that the CIA had been tryi
ng to hack Reeves? Not that they would have any chance at succeeding. And when did Richard condone spying by the CIA? His software was designed, with the help of Reeves, to stop that exact infringement. They might have government contracts, but it didn’t mean that he and Richard supported the disregard of the First Amendment.
“I’m going to leave the two of you to settle this misunderstanding. And of course, Reeves, you must help Ms. Wilson find the real culprit. We don’t want to make enemies of the CIA, do we?”
Richard was playing some sort of mastermind game. Reeves wasn’t clear what it was yet.
Richard stood and moved toward the door. “I can’t let the admiral wait too long. I’ve been able to convince Ms. Wilson that you didn’t sell the game, leaving only Thompson as a potential candidate. And since time is of the essence, I’ve offered one of my jets. I’ve directed my assistant to have it ready immediately.”
Reeves couldn’t care less about the CIA’s suspicions about him. They were trained to be suspicious and paranoid. What pissed him off was that spooks like Darcy Wilson would consider the unassuming Theodore Thompson a suspect and had no remorse about spying on him. His work with Richard Dean insulated Reeves, but who would protect Tex—a gentle, brilliant soul who would never hurt anyone? Though from Texas, Theodore was the antithesis of a cowboy. He had never ridden a horse, was in favor of gun control, and was a vegetarian. He and Charlie immediately dubbed him Tex when they met him.
Reeves refused to allow Darcy Wilson to harass Tex. No matter how hot she was in her quirky buttoned-up way and his weird and baffling connection with her as XChoco. His fierce reaction to Darcy Wilson had been a momentary lapse caused by his lack of sex for the last two months or some bizarre reaction to all the sage smoke.
“This is a waste of time. Tex had nothing to do with this. You’re totally off track. Why don’t we Skype with him? And you can head back to DC and trample on other innocent citizens.”
Come off like a jackass much? But he had to admire the way Darcy took the hit right on the chin without flinching.
“You’ve recently been in contact with Mr. Thompson? All we have is his old address in Santa Barbara from a few years ago. And I find it interesting that neither of you has an online presence. Not many individuals can claim that distinction.”
“I’m sure CIA officers can claim that distinction. What about you, Ms. Wilson? When I do my deep dive, what am I going to learn? You love cats? Pole dancing?” He was usually a well-mannered polite person, but this woman incited an intense need to poke at her uptight, self-righteous attitude. “And anyone working in the intelligence community or doing highly classified work for the government probably doesn’t have TikTok accounts.”
“Unless Mr. Thompson is deep undercover with a government agency, which is very unlikely, he remains a suspect.”
Reeves had to stop himself from tearing into her. She was doing her job, but she was so off base about Tex. The guy was an introvert and very uncomfortable with people. He was also paranoid about the internet. Anyone with his skills would be. Theodore Thompson wouldn’t sell out his country. He had no need. The game had netted fortunes for all of them.
“I haven’t talked to Tex in years. He went to Berkeley for his Ph.D. And I stayed at Stanford for my graduate work. He’s not a social kind of guy, but it doesn’t make him a terrorist.”
“You don’t have a more recent address? Any way to contact him?”
“No, but I will go with you. I’ll need to stop by our security offices before we head out. Don’t worry, I’ll figure this out, and then you can go back to DC.”
He’d find who had hacked their game, protect Tex, and send Ms. Pert-and-Sexy Darcy Wilson packing.
Even if he wondered what it might be like to keep her—just for a while. Sophie and Danni both had suggested a meaningless fling, after all …
Hot, grinding sex with a CIA agent. The sage smoke must have altered his brain since he was liking the idea more and more.
Chapter Four
Darcy handed her carry-on to the town car driver waiting for them at the Santa Barbara airport. Travel arranged by Richard Dean was a lot more efficient and a whole lot nicer than by the CIA. She had slept the entire flight to Santa Barbara, missing the opportunity to get into Reeves Hewitt’s head.
She had dozed off briefly in economy class on the flight out to Seattle. Primarily because of how worried she was about playing nice with Richard Dean, who had the power to send her forever to the CIA’s basement. The billionaire had initially been hostile and protective of his “like a son” employee. After hearing her rehearsed explanation and her profuse apologies, Dean had done a one-eighty. He laughed when she divulged that she had spent three hours gaming as Hewitt’s partner to hack into his system.
Reeves had given no hint that he knew that she was XChoco. And she hated to admit that she was disappointed that he hadn’t acknowledged her skills. And what the hell was that about? She had nothing to prove to the man, a man who was still a suspect. No matter what her boss or Richard Dean said. Since when had the CIA started taking the word of prominent people over the findings from solid investigative work?
Reeves opened the door to the sleek black vehicle and waited for her to climb in. He had been very gentle waking her before they landed. God, she hoped that she hadn’t snored with her mouth wide open. With her face smashed against the leather seat, she had dislodged her hair clip and had imprints from the seat on her face. Her hair was now a tangled mess, her curls out of control, and her wrinkle-free suit was failing its promise. The few minutes in the jet’s bathroom had done nothing to restrain her wild hair or restore her professional image.
“Were you able to find a current address for your friend?” She craned her neck to look at him. She hated being height-challenged. Damn her brothers for stealing their father’s tall genes, leaving her with her mother’s short stature, curvy shape, and curly red hair. Her brothers loved to tease her about her unruly hair, calling her “little orphan Annie” or “Carrottop.”
“Nothing but the Santa Barbara address.”
She smiled at the grumpiness in his voice because he hadn’t been able to outdo the CIA and find more info about his friend. She could be generous in victory. Darcy had assumed that while she slept, instead of doing her job getting close to the suspect, Reeves had done a deep dive into her life and his friend. He definitely had unearthed the information about her father’s death. It was public record. She would throat punch him if he gave her any sympathetic words or pitying looks.
She scooted across the leather seats, not missing how Reeves watched the way her straight skirt rode up higher onto her thighs. Heat flashed through her body, and it wasn’t due to the balmy California weather. She pulled down her skirt and moved closer to the door despite the generous size of the luxury vehicle.
She was used to men checking her out, staring at her chest. She had learned that it wasn’t personal but rather part of male hardwiring. The lowest part of the brain shaped their behavior. Listening to her brothers discuss women over the years had helped her not knee every male who eyed her body.
But Reeves’s intense inspection had been different—way different. She wasn’t disgusted but mystified that she, an ex-soldier devoted to catching bad guys, had captured his interest. He hung out with rich, beautiful women. It went back to that hardwiring thing. Men had to look. But Reeves was so unlike any of the men she knew and worked with. He didn’t puff up to demonstrate how shredded or powerful he was or do any posturing as she was used to from her time in the Army. He exuded sexiness without strutting like a damn rooster. He was confident and laid back and still all male and interested in her. And this was a man who hung out with Sophie Dean and her friends.
“Do I need to share the address with our driver?” Darcy had Thompson’s address in her Google Maps.
“No, I sent full details to him during the flight. It will take us about twenty minutes to get into the foothills. I’m not surprised that Tex picked an isol
ated area.”
“Is Thompson going to be happy to see you, or should I get my gun out?”
“I didn’t think CIA officers carried weapons. Especially on American soil. Isn’t your job limited to gathering intelligence … without force?”
“I was joking. But really, is your relationship with Thompson amicable? When is the last time you saw him?”
“Totally amicable. And the last time was at Charlie’s funeral. That was almost ten years ago.”
He ran his hand through his inky-black hair. His sculpted bicep flexed under his tight Google t-shirt. For a techie, Reeves Hewitt worked out. His ratty white t-shirt didn’t hide his six-pack.
Maybe she had to rethink her theory about men’s brain capacity. Maybe women behaved no different when it came to certain men.
“We were so young and flying high on the money we had made with the sale of our game. Our timing in the video game market was perfect. Charlie dropped out of school, traveled … and then it all fell apart …”
Darcy understood too well how life changed in a heartbeat, never to return to your carefree self. How your entire world rearranged in a moment.
“That’s rough. You and Thompson didn’t stay in touch? You didn’t get closer because of your mutual loss?”
He twisted to face her, shifting his broad shoulders to loom over her in an attempt to intimidate. She leaned back against the leather seat, away from the glare skewering her.
“Don’t use your CIA bullshit techniques on me. It was too painful to be around each other. No scheming for world domination with our game.”
“I’m sorry. I’m flying blind here about Theodore Thompson. I’m trying to get a take on your relationship for insight into him. Nothing more.”
“Sure. And I have a nice bridge to sell you.” He fell back against the seat, looking straight ahead.“Tex is brilliant but shy. The kid who never fit in. He has no need to sell the game to terrorists. No reason. No psychological bullshit will give you a motive for Tex … or me. I’m here to protect Tex, not assist you in profiling my friend into a terrorist so you can move up the CIA’s food chain.”
Mission: Impossible to Deny (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 7) Page 3
