by Julia Derek
Grateful for the distraction, I reached for my phone to see who had contacted me. As I lowered my gaze toward my hands, I could feel that Ian was still contemplating me in that intimate manner. It made me terribly nervous. So nervous that I dropped my phone.
Ian shot up from his stool. “Let me get it.” He sank down to his feet and returned two seconds later, holding my phone in his hand.
As I took it from him, I met his gaze again. His chameleon eyes had turned dark like the night, practically burning into me. I was suddenly aware that I was playing with fire having come to his house. The fact that my gun was in a holster at the back of my hip, safely hidden under my baggy sweater, was little protection. I should get to those police reports as quickly as possible, then find a way to convince Ian to go somewhere with me where there were lots of people so I could ask him about the texts. It would be stupid to do it with just the two of us here in his apartment where the walls were so thick he could do whatever he wanted to me and not risk being overheard. Dante was right; I didn’t know this guy well at all.
I put the phone down on the marble top, face down.
“Aren’t you going to see who contacted you?” he asked, frowning lightly.
“Nope. I already know who it is. And I don’t feel like being bothered at the moment.” It was true; all I wanted was for us to start reading the police reports. I was in no hurry to find out who was texting me.
“Then why did you pick it up?”
“Because I…I—” I had no idea what to say to that.
“You think it’s that same person who sent you those other texts, don’t you?”
His question was so natural, so full of concern I just couldn’t believe the man in front of me would ever be able to send me those threatening texts, never mind hurt me in any way.
“Maybe,” I said, straightening in my seat. I cleared my throat. “But it doesn’t matter. As I told you earlier, I’ll take care of it. Forget that I even brought it up.” Until I bring it up later, that is, I thought. “How about we take a look at the police reports regarding Jeremy?”
He jerked a little, like I had just flicked his shoulder with my fingers. Then he also cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Sure, let’s have a look.”
He walked over to a round side table in a corner and picked up his laptop. Returning to me, he placed the laptop on the island counter beside me and opened it.
“Here we go,” he said and pulled up the report I had requested. “I’ll get plates and chopsticks for us to use for your sushi.”
I turned to get a better view of the computer screen. It didn’t take me many minutes before I had absorbed all that had been written about Jeremy Perez on the NYPD servers.
Everything Ian had told me was true.
He unpacked the big dish of assorted sushi I had gotten and handed me a plate and a folded napkin as well as chopsticks.
I gazed down at the long wooden sticks in my hand.
“Um, could I have a fork instead?” I waved the chopsticks awkwardly, then put them aside. I had never learned how to eat with chopsticks and I wasn’t planning on ever learning either. Why eat with long sticks when it was so much easier to eat with a fork?
Ian smiled at me. “Sure. Now that I think about it, I actually prefer a fork above chopsticks myself. Though I’ve never admitted that to anyone before.”
“Good for you that you finally did. Must be liberating.”
“Yes, it is.”
Ian was soon seated before me again, the two of us eating the sushi I had brought, using forks instead of chopsticks. Thankfully, he was quiet for once, allowing me to think. I needed to come up with something to get him to come with me to a public place so I could confront him. But despite the silence, my brain stood still. I had a feeling the light tension that lingered in the air had something to do with it. The cup of sake was still just sitting there beside me. Unlike Ian, I didn’t dare touching it. As much chemistry as we had between us, I didn’t trust myself with even a little alcohol in my system. I had yet to forget how I’d once let myself go with Nick while under the influence.
“What did you think of the police report?” Ian asked as I was finally beginning to relax and it seemed my brain was working again.
I forced myself not to grimace with annoyance. “Well, there isn’t much to say. I didn’t learn anything besides what you’d already relayed to me.”
“What do you think of the fact they claimed Perez used steel hooks to climb that building?”
I shrugged. “Maybe that’s what he did. It was dark out. I might have missed them.”
Ian’s face twisted with disbelief. “Come on, Gabi! You don’t really believe that. You know as well as I do they made it up just to have something to say. They’ll never admit they still have no idea how he got into those high rises.”
Okay, he had me there—I was well aware how prideful law enforcement officials tended to be.
“That may be true,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter. I still don’t know what it was I really saw. I refuse to believe he was only using his bare hands and feet to get up that smooth stonewall. He must have used something to get up all those floors.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Ian had turned grave-looking. “I’m telling you, Gabi. He’s not a normal human being. He’s some kind of hybrid.”
“Right. Well, I guess only time will tell who’s right—you or me.” Something struck me then. Hadn’t Ian told me all these super humans were supposed to be extremely good-looking? Yes, he had. Well, Jeremy Perez hadn’t been particularly good-looking. At best average, now that I pictured him in my head. I told Ian my thoughts.
“I did notice that he wasn’t the best-looking guy ever,” Ian replied. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t an escaped product of the labs. He was 31 years old. Someone as old as him is likely part of the initial experiments in which they only promoted certain qualities. And even if he isn’t part of the initial tests, you should know that not all hybrids are perfect. I’m sorry that I might have made it seem that way. Yes, ideally they want everyone to be gorgeous and super smart, but it will take some time before that goal is reached. At the moment, some hybrids are only exceptional in certain aspects. The fact that he was able to climb buildings using only his hands and feet is enough to tell me he has to be some kind of hybrid.”
“Well, as long as that is what he actually did, he might be. Again, I’m not sure.”
Ian shook his head. “I guess it will take you meeting another hybrid with unnatural capabilities to finally believe me.”
“Yes, I guess it will. Maybe even a few of them.” I grabbed my fork that I had put down and began eating the sushi again. I needed to finish dinner so I could get out of there. It was getting late and I had yet to think of a place outside Ian’s apartment where there were lots of people. I’d taken care of a good chunk of what I’d come for—like verifying that Ian’s story corresponded to the one in the police report. I could confront him about the texts when I saw him for training next. Really, what was the hurry?
My phone sounded again, announcing another incoming message. I remembered then that I had promised to confirm a session with a new client the next day. Maybe it was she who had texted me earlier. I should check.
I put my plate aside and reached for my phone. My eyes widened as I stared down at the most recent text.
“Is it him again?” Ian asked, his voice tense.
I nodded slowly, reading the two sentences over and over: It’s going to be a slow, painful death and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it. I’m literally going to fuck your brains out.
“Can I see it?” Ian asked.
I checked who had sent me the first text and saw that it was from the new client. Then I handed my phone to Ian.
His face darkened and his nostrils flared as he read the text. He shook his head slowly, handing me back the phone.
“Sick fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. His face was s
o tight I was convinced he simply couldn’t have anything to do with these texts, even if I knew it was possible to program a computer to send me texts any time. But I just didn’t believe he was this good an actor. The man before me was furious, genuinely furious.
“Have you tried to call the number?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Yeah, of course.”
“And what happened?”
“It said the number is no longer working.”
“Well, obviously it is. Which means it’s probably sent from a computer.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too.” I didn’t see the need to tell Ian exactly how I had arrived at this conclusion or that I knew his computer was involved.
He put down his fork and got to his feet. He walked over to a corner of his living space where there was a desk with a computer that had two screens attached to it. He went around the desk and took a seat before the screens.
“Can you give me the number?” he asked me. “I’ll find this bastard for you.”
“Sure.” I left my own stool and walked over to where he sat. When I was standing beside him, I read the number off my phone.
He began typing on the keyboard and his screens filled with lots of confusing information. Ian kept typing and scrolling; apparently the stuff on the screen was clear to him. While he worked, I responded back to my client, confirming our one p.m. session for the following day.
“Goddamn,” he hissed. I looked up from my phone to see what he must be referring to.
“What?” I asked at the sight of him glaring at one of his screens, his nostrils flaring with anger once more while his eyes were bulging.
“The person harassing you is using my computer. How the bloody hell did they manage to break my security shield?”
Playing stupid, I gazed at the same screen he was looking at, but all the numbers and letters on it were like Greek to me. “How’s that possible?” I truly was dying to know this.
“That’s what I’m asking myself right now. I’ve never been hacked before my security is so good. But some bastard has managed to crack it.” He sucked in a couple of deep breaths. “I think I know who it is.”
My eyes went to him now. “You do? Who?”
“Someone from Adler. They’re the only ones I know who’re better at computer science than I am.”
I mentally rolled my eyes—of course it would be someone like that. But at least I could rejoice in the fact that Ian wasn’t behind those nasty texts after all. Of course, as soon as I left his place tonight I’d touch base with George, make sure what Ian was telling me was actually plausible. Even if it sounded highly plausible that someone—not The Adler Group—had hacked into Ian’s computer and pretended to be him, it was always wise to verify.
He turned to face me. “Did you ever realize these texts were coming from my computer? Let me correct, seemed like they originated from my computer?”
When I didn’t answer quickly enough, he nodded slowly. “So you did think I had sent them to you then. You must have been terrified of me. Well, you can relax now—I can assure you that I would never do such a thing. Whoever helped you figure out the texts were sent from my computer should be able to confirm that they were only routed via my computer.”
“Let’s hope.” I smiled to take the edge off my words. The smile came easily to me as I was truly grateful to have discovered Ian wasn’t quite as psycho as I had feared. Then it faded as I thought of something. “The question still remains why those texts were sent to me.”
“For the same reason Felix Bose attacked you in Central Park. Adler wants to get rid of you without making it obvious. And by sending you these texts, they hoped to get rid of me at the same time.”
I frowned, confused. “How would you go away because someone texted me nasty messages?”
“Because they know who you are and that you’d eventually figure out they were sent—well, routed—via my computer. The next logical step for you would be to try to eliminate me.” His eyes—that had become a shade somewhere between blue and green now—narrowed slightly. “Tell me, Gabi. How did you plan to kill me? You could easily have gotten away with it, the way you got away with killing Jeremy Perez. Not that he didn’t deserve it.”
I blinked, a little shocked at the question. “I didn’t plan on killing you.”
A corner of his mouth went up in a wry smile. “So you mean you’d have just put up with me harassing you and eventually trying to kill you? I don’t believe that for a second. You’re not that stupid or passive. You’re a woman of action.”
I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “Okay, fine, I did think you were behind those texts and I was thinking about the best way to deal with it. But I never once thought of killing you to make them stop. I never got that far.”
“I guess I should be grateful you didn’t,” Ian commented dryly.
“I guess so.” I checked the time on my smartphone. Past ten already. “I should get going. It’s late.”
Ian nodded, looking deep in thought, and got to his feet. “You’re right, it’s late. Thanks for bringing over the sushi.”
“You’re welcome.”
We walked to his small hallway together, neither of us saying a word. The magic between us from earlier was gone and replaced with slight tension, but not the sexy kind. As we stood before his front door, I was certainly not expecting a kiss nor did I feel like receiving one.
“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” Ian said and opened the door.
“Yes,” I said and exited his apartment. “See you soon. Thanks for letting me read the report.”
“You’re welcome.” He gave me a brief nod goodnight and disappeared into his place.
As I descended the steep stairs down to the street, I thought of all that I had learned tonight. I was definitely relieved Ian wasn’t behind those nasty texts after all. Plus, his explanation as to why they had been sent in the first place made more sense than I wanted to admit to myself—chances were I would have tried to kill him eventually if the texts had kept coming and they kept pointing to him. As a pre-emptive move.
I wouldn’t have just sat around waiting for him to finish me first.
As I walked down Lexington Avenue, I called George to ask him what he thought of Ian’s claims. He didn’t pick up, so I had to leave a message.
I stuck the phone back into my pocket and looked around for a cab. I wasn’t in the mood to cross the park to get home this late at night. Even if it now seemed the person texting me was only trying to fuck with my head, I would still not be comfortable walking in the big park on my own when it was this dark out.
Better not push my luck.
Chapter 3
There was a voicemail waiting for me when I woke up the next morning. I had for once gotten to sleep in as I didn’t have clients or floor shifts on the schedule until later in the day. George had called me back while I was deep in la-la land and had my phone turned off.
“Yes, it’s likely someone routed the texts through his computer,” George’s voice said in the voicemail. “As always, go with your gut, kiddo. If you believe he’s telling the truth and didn’t send them, he probably didn’t.”
I thought about George’s words. What did I think of Ian’s story now that I had slept on it? I wasn’t so sure my gut was the best judge any longer; as Dante had already pointed out, I had been under a lot of stress lately.
I rolled sideways on my bed as I tried to make up my mind. Except for the fact that I didn’t think Ian had sent me those texts, I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
