by Debra Webb
This was different. Any deviation from her instructions would have Kathrein taking horrific action against her sister and nephew. Instinctively, she glanced to the exterior windows, wondering who was watching and if they had eyes on her now.
She turned her attention back to the empty office, weighing one lousy option against the next. If she could get into Rush’s system, surely the entire company would be at her fingertips. With what amounted to a Gray Box master key, she could find a way to manipulate the settings and access the files Garmeaux had stored here.
Wiping her damp palms on her skirt, she stood up and took a step toward Rush’s sanctuary. In the increasingly small world of technology security, if a breach like this came to light, he would be ruined.
“No choice.” Speaking aloud muffled that incessant ticking in her head. Gwen and Jackson were all the family she had. And really, who would complain? Rush would be furious but he wouldn’t publicize it if she succeeded. Garmeaux was dead. Stealing the files wouldn’t tarnish his reputation as a journalist. It wasn’t much of a silver lining, but she clung to it.
Lucy’s breath shuddered in and out of her lungs as she crossed Rush’s office. The carpet felt too plush; the air was imbued with lingering traces of his cologne. She stopped at the corner of his desk as a small voice in her head screamed for her to turn back.
No. When her computer was installed, she’d learned how Rush segmented the hardware and software to suit each facet of the business. Only Rush and Sam, as the head of security, had the ability to delve into any department. She had a much better chance of figuring out Rush’s passwords than those of his partner.
She sat down at the desk and laid her fingers on the keyboard. Rush could rebuild a business. During her trek through the offices, she’d seen all sorts of ideas in development. He could rebound from an attack on the company, but her sister and nephew would die if she failed.
With another glance to confirm she was alone on the executive floor, she brought his desktop computer to life. As she fidgeted in the chair, his scent surrounded her. Familiar and enticing, it sparked a new reaction this time—guilt.
Before she’d walked away from Rush as a matter of self-preservation, the masculine fragrance held only sensual, happy memories. She used to fall asleep in that big bed in the boathouse, utterly satisfied and content, wrapped in his strong arms and the enduring deep notes of his favorite cologne warmed by his body. Her muscles went lax as she sat there, her body eager for one more encounter with the man. She’d dared more with him, trusted him in bed and out, more than either of the men she’d been close to before him. And, contrary to the rumors she’d started, she hadn’t been with anyone since.
When he discovered her deception, there wouldn’t be a second chance with him in her future. Even if Rush eventually understood her reasons, if she cracked Garmeaux’s box and someone else in the company learned about the breach his legal team would insist on prosecuting her. Ignoring the tears stinging her eyes, she set to work in the darkened office, carefully thinking through every keystroke, planning and tracking her attempts with pen and paper.
To her shock, she succeeded on her second login attempt and the reporter’s files on Kathrein filled the screen. Her momentary sense of victory was quickly muted by what she had to do for Kathrein. By tomorrow morning, she’d be back on a plane to France for a reunion with her family and Rush would be a permanent part of her past.
* * *
THE GALA WAS going exactly as Rush anticipated. Bored and unhappy, he beamed at acquaintances while pretending to sip the champagne on offer. It wasn’t his favorite beverage, but it was a far better choice than the open bar, especially with so many women in the room who’d noticed his solitary arrival. Despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted back to his favorite champagne moment with Lucy at the boathouse. God, what an experience. Her body had always intoxicated him more than any liquor and he struggled to suppress an instant erection at thoughts of sipping ice-cold trails of bubbly from her soft, warm skin.
Since the evening he’d walked in to find the boathouse deserted, he’d tried and failed to purge her from his system. Part of him hated having her back. None of his successes mattered when held up against his stellar failure with her. His subsequent failure to get over her eroded his self-confidence, though he didn’t let anyone close enough to notice.
The engagement ring he’d purchased remained in the safe at the boathouse. He’d never had the guts to return it to the jeweler. In fact, he’d never gone back, taking the coward’s way out and using other jewelers so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge his mistakes with Lucy.
With his society-page smile, he did his part for the fund-raising, shaking hands and issuing friendly challenges to those in attendance to dig into their deep pockets for such a worthy cause. He posed for pictures, ignoring humanity’s fickle nature and short memory. Sixteen years ago he’d been in police custody. Tonight, no one seemed bothered that his past exploits as a juvenile delinquent had been an integral foundation for a system they used to preserve and protect information online.
As the jazz ensemble took their second break, he decided he could leave during the next set without raising eyebrows. He scanned the room, wondering about the wisdom of leaving with a beautiful woman on his arm. Though it wouldn’t be the first time he sought a one-night stand, tonight it pricked his long-dormant conscience.
He’d rather have Lucy beside him, exchanging knowing looks at the outrageous personal propositions and professional queries he constantly fielded at events like this one. She had a knack for evading pushy people without causing any insult. On top of that she never failed to put him at ease in a crowd whenever he felt that old anxiety of being trapped creep up on him.
As another hospital patron took the stage to eloquently narrate a heart-wrenching story designed to create a tidal wave of donations, Rush’s phone vibrated in the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket. He slipped out of the ballroom to check the alert.
He read the text message from Sam asking if he wanted to split a pizza. What the hell? They often did that when pulling all-nighters during the development stage of a project. Pizza at the office sounded a hell of a lot better than going the distance here at the fund-raiser. He sent a message back, offering to pick up Sam’s favorite, black olive and sausage, on his way back.
Back? Thought you were upstairs, came the reply.
Rush started for the valet stand, his stride devouring the expansive lobby as he pressed the button to call Sam’s cell phone. “Why do you think I’m upstairs?” he asked when Sam answered.
“Your computer is logged on.”
Crap. “Hold on.” Rush bounced on his toes as he waited for the valet to bring his car. Sam offered to send security upstairs, but Rush held him off. There was a logical explanation. He tipped the valet and slid into the driver’s seat, syncing the phone with the car’s stereo speakers. “Is anyone else logged in?” he asked, pulling away from the hotel.
“A few people here and there.”
“I mean on the executive floor?” Rush ground his molars until his jaw ached. Silently, the car slid through traffic like quicksilver, pushing the upper edge of the speed limit as well as his luck.
“Oh. Sure. Lucy’s system is on,” Sam answered after a few seconds.
Rush eased off the accelerator and his pulse slowed as well. “Then no big deal. That’s okay.”
“How do you figure?”
He didn’t know. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of any reason she would be in his office, much less on his computer. “Just—I don’t know—just don’t send up security. I’m on the way and I’ll talk with her personally.”
“If you say so,” Sam teased.
“I do.” Rush snapped. “Thanks for the heads-up,” he added.
“And the pizza?”
Rush laughed. He could always count on Sam to be practical. “Call it in and I’ll pick it up.” He heard Sam’s fingers speeding over his keyboard.
; “Order in,” Sam said after a few more seconds. “I’m glad we convinced them to upgrade to online ordering.”
“Uh-huh.” Rush’s thoughts were devoted to Lucy and what she was up to when Sam’s swearing interrupted his budding theories. “What now?” Rush drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for a traffic light to change.
“You want the good news first or the bad?”
Rush sighed. “Informant’s choice,” he replied.
He didn’t want any bad news if it pertained to Lucy, but Sam was focused on the data rather than personal sentiment. With any luck, Lucy was using his corporate account to order some indulgent lingerie. Unfortunately for his vivid fantasy life, she wasn’t the type of woman to abuse access that way.
“Looks like your new assistant used an older login and went straight for a particular Gray Box.”
Aw, hell. Luck wasn’t on his side tonight. “She’s not in the research and development or financials?”
“No,” Sam stretched out the word. “Are you telling me you hired someone you thought would breach those areas?”
“Of course not.” Lucy wasn’t capable of corporate espionage. He didn’t believe her capable of using him or his money at all. He slammed the car to a stop in front of the pizza joint. “Don’t confront her. Just keep tabs on what she’s doing.”
Sam groused and swore, but he agreed to let Rush handle it.
Rush picked up the pizza, hiding the turmoil seething under his skin. What the hell was she up to? He returned to the building and carried the pizza straight to Sam’s office. “Any update?” He cleared clutter from one corner of Sam’s desk and stacked the pizza box, napkins and paper plates there.
“No.” Sam tilted his chin to the monitor array. “She’s still in that box. Almost an hour now.”
Rush couldn’t believe she’d managed to fool him. The pain in his gut was worse than the beatings he’d survived in juvie, a complete sucker punch. Rush wasn’t sure he’d ever trust anyone but Sam again.
“You’ll fire her, right?”
“My assistant, my business,” Rush said, taking a bite of pizza.
“Per the usual,” Sam grumbled, dragging two big slices onto his plate. “I created a ghost of the box. Whatever her intention is, I’m protecting the client’s content.”
“Good job.” With a nod of appreciation, Rush left his half-eaten pizza slice behind and headed to his private elevator. Lucy had one chance to give him the logical explanation.
Chapter Seven
The ticking clock in Lucy’s head fell silent as she read and reread the documents Garmeaux had assembled. The reports and research implied Dieter Kathrein was an imposter. Every startling revelation caused an inescapable dread to pool in her belly. She was up against a man capable of anything, a monster who had killed without any sign of remorse.
In the month she’d been with Kathrein, she’d learned his absolute commitment to family, especially his grandson and only heir to his fortune. The information here would definitely end his grandson’s political aspirations and possibly destroy anyone close to him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she considered the potential fallout of the terrible secrets Kathrein could never allow to come to light. She transferred the Gray Box contents of old records, articles, interviews and images to a thumb drive and deleted the items from the box one by one. She took a screen shot of the empty box and added it to the files on the thumb drive.
Assuming it was all true, she was now the only other person who knew about Kathrein’s awful past. If he honored his deal and spared her sister and nephew, Lucy would be killed. There was no alternative, no other way to keep his grandson safe. Did she have any hope of convincing him she hadn’t opened any of it?
How had her ideal job turned into a nightmare?
She heard the chime of the elevator arriving in the private corridor and her heart kicked with a spike of adrenaline. Knowing it had to be Rush didn’t bring her any comfort. Yanking the thumb drive from the computer, she hurried to erase her tracks.
She wasn’t fast enough.
He hit the office lights, his eyes dark and dangerous as his tall frame filled the doorway. His bow tie was undone, hanging loose, and the top button of the crisp white shirt was open. “Lucy.”
Not a query, a statement. He wasn’t surprised to find her. She closed her eyes as shame washed over her. Naturally, he’d have some safeguards in place, maybe even hidden cameras to protect his interests. He was the king of modern security, after all.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He didn’t move or acknowledge her apology.
“It’s not what it looks like,” she said.
“It looks like you’re in my office taking advantage of my absence.”
She swallowed back protests and lame excuses. Rush wouldn’t tolerate either. She rapidly blinked away more tears, afraid he’d think she was trying to play on his emotions. Emotions he kept locked away as securely as any bit of data in his Gray Boxes. She didn’t want to lie to him any more than she already had. “I was working late and I came in here when my own system didn’t cooperate.” There. She’d given him two truths.
“Lucy.” His black eyebrows arrowed up toward his hairline and he leaned against the doorjamb, his arms folded over his wide chest.
She wasn’t fool enough to believe the relaxed posture. He was in full predator mode and she was the hapless prey. She shook her head, unable to force out the right lies. “I’ll go.” She stepped away from his desk.
“You are not dismissed.”
His voice was cold, each syllable an icy shard separate from the others. She froze.
“Your previous boss has shown little interest in developing cloud-based security.”
Another statement. Lucy willed her feet to move away from his personal space behind the desk. With every second her misery mounted. Rush wasn’t a man to easily forgive such an invasion. He smiled for the cameras, knew how to play the game in public to get what and where he wanted, but he valued his privacy. More than once, she’d seen how the publicity took a toll on him. “It’s not what it looks like,” she repeated.
“Kathrein,” he barked. “He put you up to this?”
She glanced toward her desk and the framed photo of her family and straightened her shoulders. “No,” she lied.
Eyes narrowed, Rush took a step inside the office. “Then what are you up to?”
Before she could reply, he moved to the desk and snatched up the notepad she had left behind. Damn! Lucy scurried to the opposite side of his desk as he dropped into his chair and set his hands to the keyboard.
“Who is Mathieu Garmeaux?” Rush demanded.
“He’s not important,” she answered, sticking with the few honest answers she could give. No chance of escape, but she wanted to protect Rush.
“You broke into his box.”
She nodded. “He won’t file a complaint.” One more weak truth that failed to make her feel better. The knots in her stomach pulled tighter. “Really, Rush. Ignore my stupid mistake. Please. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just... I just...”
“What?” he roared.
The single word caused her entire body to spasm and her resolve shattered like the Christmas ornaments left behind in the manor house in France. Her knees wobbled; a dark haze crowded her vision. She sagged into the nearest chair before she passed out. “I had to do it,” she said, ignoring the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Kathrein is holding Gwen and Jackson hostage.” She gulped in air and choked on a sob. “He demanded the documents and information from that box in exchange for their lives.”
On a dark oath Rush came around the desk and pulled her up into his arms. He smelled like expensive perfume, spicy tomato sauce and there, underneath it all, the man she loved. She burrowed closer, her hands sliding up his back under his jacket and her tears soaking the fabric of his tuxedo shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled into his chest. “He didn’t give me an op
tion, but now I know the truth and—” Panicked hiccups cut off her explanation.
“Easy.” Rush rubbed a hand up and down her spine. “Breathe.”
She relaxed under his soothing touch, sighing as he freed her hair of the clip that had held it up since dinnertime. “Garmeaux is—was a reporter, Rush.” She gripped his lapels. “He’s dead. Kathrein had him killed. I’m sure of it now that I’ve seen the files.” She struggled to get the words out around the lump of fear lodged in her throat. “Even if he releases Gwen and Jackson, his only choice is to kill me, too.”
His muscles went rigid at her words and then relaxed again. “Shh.” He cupped her face in his hands and stroked away her tears with his thumbs. “Slow down.” His blue eyes were full of tenderness and longing as he studied her face, as if searching for the right place to plant a kiss.
She wasn’t worthy of his kisses and she tried to squirm away, more embarrassed than ever by the mess she’d brought into his world. Hiring her had forced his girlfriend out of the picture, and now that Lucy had proved secure boxes could be cracked, she’d put his reputation at risk.
He didn’t let her get away, pulling her back to his hard body. “This wasn’t a publicity stunt to embarrass me or the company?”
“No,” she replied immediately.
“Good.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Here’s how this will go.” He slid an arm around her waist and guided her to the couch. “We’re going to sit here while you tell me everything.” He removed his jacket and tossed it over the opposite chair. Sitting down, he situated her so she was sheltered by him, her hip pressed to his, his arm over her shoulder. With his free hand he traced the length of her fingers.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe. Maybe with all the facts, Rush could find the way to save them all.
“Start at the beginning,” he prompted gently.
She took another breath and let it all pour out. “Kathrein didn’t hire me because of my skills, he chose me because he needed someone who had a chance of infiltrating Gray Box.”
