by EMILIE ROSE
Occasionally, an average citizen who was paranoid about online tracking and identity theft used the browser. Hannah didn’t strike him as that kind of end user. The software didn’t come preinstalled on computers. A user had to download it.
There was no legitimate reason for Mason to have installed the software, which had been developed by the US Navy and was often used by the military, law enforcement and journalists who wanted to provide anonymity for informants. More than likely, Mason was caught up in the dark net with criminals who used the TOR because it allowed anonymous web surfing via encryption and server-hopping. In general, paths couldn’t be traced. But Brandon had been trained to break that anonymity.
“Aw, hell, Mason, what are you into?”
Brandon hit a few keys and fought impatience while the program ran. He lost track of time as he tried one command after another until the computer’s browser history appeared. Not erased, just buried. Deep.
He clicked a URL. Porn images and video links popped up. No surprise there. Mason had admitted to looking. Each successive click took him to the same page. Someone, most likely Mason, had visited this page often.
Clicking on Menu brought up a collection of thumbnail photos. The “actors” looked young. He zoomed the images. On closer inspection, they didn’t just appear underage, they were. The boys’ peach-fuzzed faces gave it away. Some appeared younger than Mason.
The fine hairs on Brandon stood on end. Raking his hands across his head, he sat back in his chair and whistled out a breath. Because of his job he saw similar web pages on a regular basis. But this wasn’t your average porn site. This was a crime scene because of the ages of the participants. Busting this site could be the biggest bust of his career to date.
He turned on the sound and endured a few videos, repulsed. On a pad of paper, he made notes as he searched, counting the kids involved and looking for clues to location by their settings. The crude language used explained where Mason had picked up the terms that had landed him in trouble at school.
Then it hit him. Could Mason be more than a voyeur? Was he a victim? The laptop had a camera at the top of the screen. As smart as the boy was with computers, he would know how to use it. Brandon fast-forwarded through the rest, keeping a close eye on the faces. Only when he reached the last screen without seeing Mason in any of the images, did his muscles relax slightly.
But the discovery of the illegal page combined with the browser raised questions. Why was Mason surfing the dark web? Was his browsing history linked to his troubling behavior and the note? Did he visit this page just for kicks, as he’d claimed? Or was he connected in another more dangerous way?
As a cop Brandon had taken an oath to report any wrongdoing. He’d always been a black or white guy. Breaking the law a little was like being a little bit pregnant. You were still breaking the law. Could he have a chat with Mason, warn him of the perils and drop it? No. There were too many other kids being victimized on the site.
If Mason was part of the site in any way he would be no less guilty of committing a crime than the others involved. The warning prickle traveled along Brandon’s nape. He had to find the sick bastard in charge and shut down the operation. But doing so could implicate Rick and Hannah’s son. If that happened, the legal fallout would irrevocably change the boy’s, Hannah’s and Belle’s lives.
And she’d hold him responsible. The same way she had for Rick’s death.
Chapter Fifteen
“WHAT DO YOU mean you can’t go out?” Lucy protested from her seat in front of Hannah’s desk. “You’re done for the day and you don’t have the kids. You promised we’d get drinks tonight. I have a sitter.”
Focusing on closing out the file in front of her, Hannah kept her eyes on her laptop and replied, “I’m sorry I forgot to call you. Brandon showed up at my house last night unexpectedly. He should be there now remodeling my kitchen.”
“He spent the night?” Lucy asked in a shocked whisper.
“No. He...probably came back this morning. He...um...knows where I keep the spare key.”
Lucy remained silent for an uncharacteristically long time; Hannah could feel her gaze but she didn’t dare meet it. “You’re not wearing your wedding rings. Oh. My. God. You did the horizontal hokey pokey with him.”
Hannah cringed and checked over her shoulders, but thankfully, her coworkers were busy. “Shhh. I didn’t say that.”
“No. But you won’t look at me and your face is as red as that fire hydrant out front.”
Hannah closed her work computer, grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Hannah,” her coworker Seth called out, “don’t forget to bring those exercises you found on Monday.”
Wincing, she nodded and waved and made a hasty exit before Lucy could say something about the fresh wave of heat scorching Hannah’s face. She’d been so distracted...after...that she’d forgotten to put on her rings and download the workout Seth referred to, and this morning she’d been in such a rush to leave before Brandon arrived that she’d left her laptop behind. Then she’d had an emergency patient and hadn’t been able to run home at lunch and pick it up. What a day.
Lucy caught up and accompanied her to the parking lot. “Girl, we have to at least have a glass of wine. I need details. Juicy, second by second details. Was he amazing?”
Hannah blanked her face to the best of her ability and dug for her car keys. “I need to go home, Lucy. He’s ripping apart my kitchen.”
“He was lousy?” Lucy squawked and dramatically covered her heart with her hand. “I’m so disappointed. I expected him to be like...a superhero or something. I should have known. All the gorgeous ones have a tiny di—”
“He doesn’t.” Then she realized what she’d admitted and sighed. “And he wasn’t lousy.”
Lucy blocked her path. “I can’t believe you’re holding out on me after all the goods I’ve given you.”
Hannah sighed and forced herself to meet her friend’s gaze. “Lucy, I love you like a sister. But there are some things I just can’t discuss.”
“But there is something to discuss. Right?”
Hannah bit her lip. “I don’t know. We kind of left it...unsettled.”
Lucy’s teasing smile morphed into worry. “Oh, shit. You’re not falling for him, are you? He’s a cop. And you have a ‘no-cop’ rule. You’re so paranoid you even have me avoiding cops.”
Hannah’s stomach churned. She was very afraid that what she’d experienced with Brandon wasn’t just sex. Or therapy. But whatever “it” was, it certainly wasn’t love.
“No, I’m not falling for him. We’re just friends. Friends who’ve taken that relationship to a deeper level. That’s all.”
“He’s great with your kids.”
“Irrelevant.”
“And really good with his hands and tools.”
Very good with his hands, mouth and tool. Another wave of heat rolled through her—this one burning much lower than her face. Lord help her, now she was even thinking like Lucy. “I have to go.”
But Brandon was waiting. She had to figure out how last night changed their relationship before she got home.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Lucy asked, clearly reading Hannah’s ambivalence.
Hiding behind her girlfriend, though tempting, would be cowardly. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind...”
Hannah hugged Lucy because her friend would, without a doubt, be there for her. And she was the only person Hannah could say that about. “Thank you. But I’ll be okay.”
“Will you? Are you sure? I mean... Sweetie, you’re not me. I can do the you-scratch-my-itch-I’ll-scratch-yours thing. But can you? Really?”
She’d thought so. But after Brandon had left, the doubts had flooded in. She’d showered, washed the sheets, and still she hadn’t been able to escape tho
ughts of him. No matter which way she turned there were reminders of him in her house. And when she’d finally gone to bed she’d lain there replaying every heart-stopping moment in her head right up until the second he’d walked out.
It bothered her that she hadn’t been able to interpret the expression on his face before he left. But she knew it hadn’t been the easygoing, “Boy, wasn’t that great? Let’s do it again” she’d been hoping for. She hadn’t been relaxed, either. In fact, she’d been more wound up after than she had before.
Did he hate her? Did he still want her? Would he be at her house waiting for her or had he written her off?
“I don’t know where this is going. That’s all I can tell you. Brandon and I will figure it out. Preferably before the kids return. But I appreciate you being there for me.”
“Call me. For anything.” Lucy mimed the phone sign, sticking out her thumb and pinkie, then waved and walked down the sidewalk.
Hannah drove home with anticipation and anxiety battling for supremacy inside her. When she saw Brandon’s truck in her driveway she inadvertently tapped her brakes, startling the driver following too closely behind her into blowing the horn.
Hannah’s hand shook as she reached for the garage door opener on her sun visor. Unless he swept her off her feet, dragged her straight to bed and made her forget her nervousness, the encounter ahead promised to be...awkward. An excited thrill ran through her as she considered the prospect of round two upstairs. Did she want that? Yes. She did. But she was also afraid of how deep-seated that want seemed to be.
She parked in the garage and sat in her car for a moment, trying to gather her courage. She had the same jittery feeling that she’d experienced in physical therapy school when she’d downed double espressos all night to cram for exams.
Best to get this over with and see where she stood. She entered the house through the laundry room, took one step into the kitchen and saw her den. Surprise stopped her. The wall was gone. The open concept she’d sketched on paper seven years ago was a reality. Excitement percolated through her.
“Good timing.” She jumped at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He stood to her right. “I could use your help.”
He wore jeans, a yellow T-shirt that accentuated the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, and his tool belt. He’d shaved the beard that had erotically abraded her skin last night, but five o’clock shadow was already darkening his jaw. The memory sent lust hurtling through her. But if he felt the same, nothing on his somber face gave it away.
“Help with what?” she asked cautiously, still trying to gauge his mood. She’d braced herself for anything from regret to desire, but she hadn’t expected him to act as if nothing had changed.
“Getting the new countertop inside.”
She dragged her gaze from his neutral expression to the open tops of her cabinetry. “You’ve been busy.”
“It’s finished. Except for the counter. You might want to change first.”
She glanced down at her white scrubs then back at him. Was that an invitation to go upstairs? If so, she didn’t see even a hint of desire in his eyes. “I’ll do that.”
She left the kitchen. He didn’t follow. With each tread she climbed something stirred within her. By the time she reached the landing, she identified the feeling as disappointment. Had last night meant nothing to him? She’d barely slept for worrying about it, thinking about it, replaying it. Would it happen again? Or had she been such a lousy lay that he didn’t want her anymore? The latter possibility stung. Was this a “wham bam, thank you, ma’am” encounter? Lucy had been through a few of those and vented quite openly about how the dismissals made her feel. But Hannah never had. Rick had been her only lover. Before Brandon. Her father had watched her like a hawk from the time her mother disappeared until Hannah had gone to community college. And there she’d met Rick.
She tossed off her work clothes and changed into jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers, her ire building by the second. How dare Brandon act as if nothing had happened! She stomped back downstairs and confronted him in the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“About?” But the tension in his shoulders and his clamped tight lips belied the innocent question and blank expression.
“Last night.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. His fists clenched by his sides. “What do you want me to say, Hannah? Do you want me to tell you that you were the best I ever had? That I want to drag you to bed right now and do it all over again, only slower?”
Her lungs faltered. A flush filled her face then descended in a warm, tingling shower to her lower region. “Do you?”
His expression softened marginally. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not going to happen. I’m not the guy to call when you need your itch scratched. And I can never be more than that.”
“Then last night...”
His fists clenched then released by his sides. “Shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry. I’ll have better control of myself in the future. We need to get the kitchen finished before the kids get home. I have straps in the truck to lift the granite. We’ll get that down tonight, then I’ll come back tomorrow and paint.”
He strode from the room before she could formulate a reply. The front door opened but didn’t close—a clear signal that he expected her to follow.
Her lungs emptied along with the adrenaline that had kept her going all day. She had wanted to know what he thought. Now she wished she’d remained ignorant. And considering that all she’d wanted was a friend with benefits, his rejection hurt a lot more than it should have.
* * *
BRANDON FELT HANNAH’S gaze on him again Saturday evening, but he made a point of ignoring the attention—the same way he had each time she’d looked him over in the past twenty-four hours. He wasn’t trying to be cruel, but he couldn’t trust himself to look into her hunger-filled eyes and do the right thing. And the right thing was to resist the need to take her into his arms, carry her upstairs and replay last night, only slower.
Knowing what he did about Mason’s computer activities complicated the situation. Hannah needed to know what her son was up to. But telling her that he’d been searching her computer without permission would only lead to trouble.
He’d talk to Mason and get all his facts straight. Then he’d go to Hannah. He had reservations about the strategy. But it was the best he had at the moment.
She’d worn her skimpy shorts again today and a shirt that had a habit of slipping off one shoulder to reveal a lace bra strap so fragile he could snap it with his fingers. But she wasn’t wearing Rick’s rings. A smear of white paint marked her thigh, and her toenails were painted the color of a ripe, juicy peach. She looked good enough to eat, and it was killing him not to take a bite.
Since he’d arrived he’d been silently reciting the reasons why they couldn’t be together. The litany had done nothing to diminish his desire for her. As soon as he completed this final task he would wisely put a few miles between himself and temptation, and he wouldn’t return to Hannah’s house until the children were here to act as buffers and he could talk to Mason. Thinking about the kid and the potential trouble he was in was sobering.
He finished attaching the outlet cover beneath her new breakfast bar then put his screwdriver away. The job was finished and it looked good, if he did say so himself. But his opinion wasn’t the one that mattered. Unable to delay any longer, he met her gaze.
“Is it what you expected?”
“No,” she said quickly, then her face softened. “It’s better. Thank you, Brandon. Can I buy you dinner to celebrate?”
Hunger raced through him like a pack of wild dogs. He opened his mouth to refuse her invitation, but the sound of slamming car doors outside halted the words. Footsteps hammered across the front porch then the door burst open. Mason rushed in with Belle on his heels.
“Mom! Mom! Can I get a model train?”
Mason exclaimed.
Belle threw her arms around Hannah. “I missed you, Mommy.”
Hannah embraced her daughter. “We’ll put a train set on your wish list. Did you have fun?”
“Of course they did,” Margaret Leith sniped in her usual irritated tone as she followed them in. “But they won’t go to bed when they’re told. So we caught an earlier flight rather than endure another disruptive night.”
Hannah’s lips turned down. “I’m sorry. They have trouble settling down when they’re excited,” she explained to her mother-in-law, then turned to her children. “Did you enjoy the train and airplane rides?”
“They wouldn’t stay in their seats,” Mrs. Leith snapped before the children could reply. “And they bothered the stewards with too many questions.”
Anger flushed Hannah’s cheeks. She took a deep breath.
Brandon’s anger flared. “It was their first trip by plane or train. It’s natural for them to have questions, and if you couldn’t or wouldn’t answer them, then they had reason to ask the ones who would. Mason, help me get your suitcases.”
The kid bolted out the door. Brandon took a moment to stare down the woman who’d made her son’s life, and now apparently her grandkids’ lives, difficult. The powerful surge of protectiveness he felt toward Belle and Mason surpassed what he’d felt for Rick. Margaret Leith looked away first.
Once she did Brandon headed outside. Mason stood by the open trunk of the car. Brandon detoured by the passenger seat. “Good evening, Dr. Leith.”
“You’re here again? You’re spending too much time with my son’s wife.”
Brandon’s temper reignited. Once more, he snuffed it. “I’m helping Hannah with some renovations.” Then he joined Mason. “Which are yours?”
Mason yanked out two duffel bags. “These are mine. That one’s Belle’s. What’re you doing here?”
