Covert Cover Cracked

by Missy Marciassa

  Maybe she could break his concentration with a distraction. “I’m an Information Scientist.”

  As she spoke, she lifted her leg as if she was going to knee him in the groin, which caused him to lift up to avoid her. It was just enough for her push him onto his side, but she still couldn’t yank herself free: his grasp was too tight. Instead he pulled her back onto his chest as he rolled onto his back, holding her wrists in an iron-like grip.

  “A what?” He may not have understood her answer, but it didn’t cause him to loosen his grip in the slightest.

  The urge to lower her head and kiss his full lips almost overwhelmed her. They were in a gym full of people, though, so she just laughed again as she enjoyed the richness of his deep brown eyes. Their noses were practically touching. “So I’ve got you pinned, but you won’t let me go. Looks like we have a draw.”

  Reese didn’t move, just gave her a slow smile. “I don’t do draws.” Then his powerful thighs flexed and his abdomen tightened as he pushed up, lifting her with him as he sprang to his feet. Damn he was strong: she wasn’t that light. “Shore Leave’s got my favorite beer on tap tonight; I’m going to enjoy a drink while you tell me what the hell an Information Scientist is.”

  Elle pulled away, but she was just about positive he let her go. His grasp was too tight for her to escape: he knew how to immobilize a target, all right. She was laughing regardless. She’d never had so much fun sparring, and she was breathing hard: there had been plenty of physical exertion. “Who gets a prize for pinning first? She who pins last, wins.”

  “Not if I had to let you up.” His shining eyes told her he was enjoying himself, too. “But no matter: dinner works for me.” His eyes lowered. “You even earned a hell of a dessert for that match.”

  She could feel her shirt, stuck to her skin with sweat, and although she had on a sports bra, she was pretty sure he was still enjoying the view. “I guess I owe you something for the workout.” It was a perfect excuse to see him again, and at this point, she had to admit she wanted to do that as surely as she needed to breathe air. Which should probably be the red flag not to see this guy again.

  The sound of her damn cell told her it probably wouldn’t be tonight, though. Elle unzipped the side compartment of her bag, pulled out her cell, and answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Be at the Hampton Roads Naval Base at ten pm sharp.” Mason hung up as soon as he was done giving his directive.

  Of course something had to happen right now. Feeling Reese’s eyes on her, she spoke into the cell just so it wouldn’t look so odd to just hang up. “I’ll get right on it. See you in the morning.” Then she dropped her cell into her bag before facing Reese.

  “I have to take a rain check.” She shrugged but didn’t bother to hide the disappointment on her face. “Work.”

  The slight shift of his body, the way he set himself right there, in front of her, told her this guy was not going to take no for an answer. “How about tomorrow night?”

  Yes, yes, yes… Elle squeezed her lips shut. Dinner was a date. She could not go out on a date with him: that was beyond the bounds of a fling. “I- I’ll probably have to work late. But how about meeting up for drinks? Tomorrow night? A girl’s gotta make time for dessert.” That would set the stage for another hook up. There was no rule against hooking up twice.

  The dark glow that lit up his eyes told her this worked for him. “Dessert it is. Shore Leave at nine?”

  Nine o’clock would give them plenty of time. “I’ll see you then.”

  Elle wiped herself off with a towel. She was really sweating; Reese put Mike to shame.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” She tried to ignore the fact that while he was sweating, he was nowhere near as winded as she was. She had to give him credit for not pointing that out.

  When they reached the front door of the gym, she brushed past him as he held the door open and nearly shivered from the thrill that surged through her body. He touched the small of her back as he walked beside her, which seemed to turn her spine into an electrical conduit that sent waves of electricity through her. She was only going out on her second formal op but was tempted to skip it, even if the only justifiable reason for not showing up for an op was something like getting into a car accident on the way.

  At her car, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  Oh, yes, he would.

  Chapter 10

  Only a few hours later, Elle zipped up her leather jacket after stepping out of the van on a street in Montreal. The website she’d looked up about Montreal weather said temperatures were moderate during the day, but it could get chilly in the evening in the fall. The cool breeze proved this to be true. At least now she was wearing the leather jacket she’d always envisioned herself wearing as a spy, along with black leggings and flat black boots. Easy stuff for her to run in. Heels were worn only if they were part of a disguise, and tonight, her disguise would again be a housecleaning uniform that she stole after infiltrating the building.

  Preston zipped up his jacket too as they set off for the office building across the street. The two hour flight had been uncomfortable. He looked like he wanted to talk to her, but with Mason there the entire time, jabbering away about operational details, he hadn’t been able to. Elle avoided his searching looks. She never thought she would be happy to have to listen to all of Mason’s unnecessarily detailed briefs, but she had been for that flight.

  She had decided as she drove to the naval base that she had to be professional. They were both agents, and they had been assigned to work an op together. The fact that Preston was her ex-fling (he had made it clear right before dumping her that he was never a real boyfriend) was irrelevant. She had to think about her career. She had one successful op on her record: tonight would make two.

  But it was odd seeing him after sparring with a guy she had just slept with. Elle had made it home in time to shower and make herself dinner before heading out to Hampton Roads. She felt nearly as loose as she had after she and Reese had had sex.

  They got into the building using key cards. At this time (a little after midnight), the offices should be empty, which was when the cleaning crews went to work. They were gaining access to the building while the cleaning staff was at work so they would have a disguise to fool security, which was present in the building twenty-four hours a day. If they infiltrated after the cleaning crew left, they were unlikely to fool the security team since they were a much smaller group and likely knew each other.

  Preston gestured to their left, where there was a door that said “Staff” on it. Like she couldn’t read that. He was as bad as Mason.

  Preston had the key that got them into room where cleaning uniforms were stored: shelves filled with the jumpsuits lined the walls. Men sizes were on the left, women on the right. The jumpsuits were actually a blessing since it meant they could just pull them on over their clothes, even their jackets. They just had to pick ones that were big enough.

  He held one jumpsuit out to her as she picked up another one for herself. She barely spared him a glance before shaking out the jumper she’d picked out for herself, so he put the one he’d picked out for her back on the shelf.

  “Are you sure that’s big enough?” Preston asked as he stepped into his while watching her. He slid his gun into the pocket of his jumper and pinned the ID Mason had given him to the front of his suit.

  “Yes.” Elle unzipped a women’s XL and stepped into it. She felt him watching her as she shoved her arms through the sleeves and then zipped it up. It fit. She pinned the ID Mason had given her to the front of her jumpsuit as well.

  She couldn’t resist giving him a triumphant look, but he was already heading out the door. He wasted no time grabbing a cleaning cart before making his way to the large freight elevator at the end of the hall. She had to hurry to keep up with him. No one else was in the halls. The cleaning crew had started a couple of hours ago, so they were hard at work.

  Once they were in the ele
vator, he looked at her again.

  “No glasses.” He gestured to her face with a small smile. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s different.”

  Elle was startled. Marni had dragged her out to get laser surgery soon after he’d dumped her. She nodded. “Yeah, laser surgery. It was time to make a change.”

  Preston’s look was appreciative. “The glasses were cute, but you look great now, too.”

  He, of course, still had the clean-cut good looks to star in a spy movie. It was on the tip of her tongue to reciprocate the compliment, but she stopped herself. Why should she tell him he looked good? Furthermore, why the hell was he telling her she looked good? She simply gave him a stiff nod.

  “I can see you’ve gone through some other changes.” Now he was openly looking her up and down.

  Her stare stopped his inspection. “I can see you’re exactly the same.”

  He blinked, looking taken aback. She made a point of focusing on the numbers at the top of the elevator to mark their ascent rather than looking at him again.

  The ding of the elevator eased a bit of the tension, bringing their attention back to the op.

  “We’re looking for twenty-one-oh-eight?” Preston asked as he began to push the cart out of the elevator as he spoke.

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “Correct, Aston Martin.”

  Elle had forgotten about Mason until he responded. He wasn’t the chatty Kathy tonight.

  Twenty-one-oh-eight was just a few doors down from the elevators. The offices had glass walls that looked out into the hallway (not a great thing for them) and the outdoors. The view from the exterior glass was breathtaking: Montreal glittered at night. The building was right off the river; the smooth sheen of the water reflected the glow of the lights as if the water’s surface was a mirror.

  “Here’s the computer.” Preston gestured to what was- obviously- the computer as he maneuvered the cart just inside the door.

  She gave him a Really? look as she sat down in the high-backed office chair. Maybe he was worse than Mason; at least Mason stayed in the van.

  Elle shook her head to clear it. Time to get to work. Anyone passing in the hall could see what they were doing. According to Mason’s intel, the cleaning staff shouldn’t start working on this floor for at least another hour, so they needed to be long gone by then.

  On the flight she had memorized the login information from her briefing folder, so she pulled on her latex gloves and started typing the information in. The screen saver, which was the company’s logo of a fierce eagle eye, remained on the screen.

  “Login failed,” she said.

  Mason should be able to see from the micro-cameras in her earrings, but protocol dictated she provide verbal updates whenever possible on this op.

  “Re-enter it, Bookworm.” Of course Mason would assume it was something she had done.

  Elle typed in the information again.

  The eagle eye stayed put, fixing her with a ferocious stare.

  “Let me try,” Preston said, moving around to stand beside her at the desk.

  She tried typing it in again. “I memorized it on the way up.” Nothing. “They must’ve changed the password.”

  “I memorized it, too,” Preston said, pulling on his gloves as he spoke.

  “I’m entering the right one,” she insisted. “The word isn’t working.”

  “It can’t hurt for me to try.” He pushed her chair to the side. Damn thing had wheels.

  “Bookworm, let Aston Martin attempt to login.” What was Mason, a parent trying to keep things civil between two kids?

  She fought the urge to stand and give Preston a good roundhouse kick right to the abdomen. What the hell was wrong with him? “The password probably changes on a regular basis,” she said as he began typing.

  “According to our intel, that’s the latest password,” Mason said.

  Preston had no luck. She felt a flare of triumph. “I know the score.” She nudged him out of the way. “Let me try something.”

  Assuming the agency’s intel was accurate and the password hadn’t changed, what could it be?

  “The intel’s bad,” Preston said. “It’s time to abort.”

  “That may be our most conservative-” Mason began as Elle started typing.

  After typing the password in reverse, with the lower letters caps and the capital letters in lowercase, the screen lit up. She was in.

  “Successfully logged in.” She exercised great self-restraint in not shooting Preston another triumphant look.

  After a moment she heard him murmur “Good work” and headed over to the cart by the interior wall.

  “Bookworm successfully logged in,” Mason confirmed. It was rather impressive how deadpan he kept his voice; she knew it probably killed him to have to say she succeeded.

  The thought made her smile. He couldn’t see her facial expressions, so she didn’t have to hide anything. She glanced up to see Preston watching her. He gave her a wink; she focused on the screen. He was no better than Mason, she reminded herself.

  He rummaged around in the cart. She glanced up to see him pull out a large glass wiper along with a big spray bottle. He started spraying cleaner on the glass, coating it completely.

  She had to admit, it was a smart move. Someone could probably still see people were in there if they walked past, but it would be very blurry.

  “So you made another adjustment to your model, moving into the field, huh?” Preston was wiping the small glass window in the wood door as he spoke.

  “Sometimes you have to develop new variables and nullify old ones for the best results.” Elle found the program she needed, and just in time: she had no intention of having a “let’s get reacquainted” chat with Preston.

  “I’ve located the program,” she said for Mason’s benefit. She was forced to use a usb flash drive for this one, since these computers didn’t have the specially designed discs. It was a clever way to hide: who would come looking at a computer on the twenty-first floor of an office building in Montreal?

  They would, as it turned out.

  “Bookworm has located the program,” Mason confirmed.

  Elle initiated copying the program onto the usb drive. The plan was for her to copy what they had onto this usb drive. Then she would upload a program that was very similar but with the agency’s modifications onto this computer, replacing the one she was copying, so they could monitor it. There were likely some other changes, too, but she didn’t have the clearance to know what.

  Preston reached up with the wiper and began running it horizontally across the top of the glass of the interior wall.

  “Fifteen percent of data copied,” she said.

  “Fifteen percent, roger that.” Despite the cameras in her earrings, Mason probably couldn’t make out all the details on the computer screen; he was dependent on her reports.

  Preston reached the end of the wall and started pulling the wiper across the same stretch of glass, in the opposite direction. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d choose this variable: becoming operational.”

  Elle stifled a snort. Like he’d really bothered to get to know her. “Didn’t know the score as well as you thought, huh?”

  He shot a glance at her as he continued running the wiper against the glass.

  “Shouldn’t you run the wiper from the ceiling to the floor?” He wasn’t the only one who could be helpful. She could be every bit as considerate as he was about people’s welfare. Maybe she could think of a dating tip for him.

  “Progress on transmission, Bookworm?” Mason asked.

  She checked the screen. “Thirty-three percent, Mastermind.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out who determined their call signs.

  “Thirty-three percent, roger that.”

  Preston sprayed the glass with more cleaning fluid, coating the wall again, before starting to run the wiper across the top in a horizontal stripe again. He glanced back to see Elle looking at him. “Not if I wa
nt to keep us concealed. If someone comes, it’s blurry at eye level and lower.”

  She couldn’t deny his damn skill. She turned her attention back to the computer screen. She had wondered what it would feel like to see Preston again. Would she be consumed with longing? Loathing? Well, loathing was too strong of a word, but…

  Resentment. She was pissed about what had happened a year ago.

  Intellectually, she understood he had been trying to protect her, keep her from getting hurt, by breaking things off with her, but he had hurt her. He’d been too damn late to avoid it.

  It never occurred to her that they would end up on ops together.

  As Preston began drawing the wiper back across the glass, a security guard walked past the office in the hallway.

  Chapter 11

  The security guard’s stroll suggested he was just making a sweep of the floor. His head turned so he could get a better look through the glass. Preston was still drawing the wiper across the glass: he was doing exactly what a cleaning person would be expected to do. Elle was not. A cleaning person shouldn’t be sitting at a desk, dammit. Her urge was to duck down underneath the top of the desk.

  She looked down. Ducking would look even more suspicious. What the hell was she going to do? He’d already seen her sitting there.

  She bent down and picked up the small trash can right by the desk, stood, and headed for the cart. It was already set up with a giant trash bag that was still empty, so she dumped the papers and such in there.

  The guard kept looking even as he continued strolling. He didn’t speed up or slow down; it was as if he was just looking out of idle curiosity.

  Elle didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it rushed out after he walked out of sight.

  “Good thinking.” Preston’s approval was quiet.

  “Status report?” Mason demanded.

  She headed back to the desk. The program had finished copying onto the usb flash drive. Her hands were shaking as she pulled it out of the port and fumbled for the other one in her pocket. It had the duplicate program.