by Tara Oakes
Once it seems like she’s made up her mind and given up on the silent protesting she’s been doing for the last five minutes, her arms fall dejectedly to her sides.
“I’ve watched you. Ok? Is that what you want to know? Fine. I told you. Now give me the keys.” She thinks her tiny admission has earned her the right to what’s hidden in my pants.
I sidestep her. “Not so fast. How exactly have you watched me?” I want every dark, sordid detail.
The small, smooth space between her eyebrows is now furrowed with a deep clefting, showing that she’s frustrated. A lone car whizzes past on the nearly empty highway behind her, seeming to remind her of our missed travel time.
She checks her phone, with the artificial light from the rectangular screen lighting up a bit more of the night.
“Cameras. I tapped into the traffic monitoring cameras near your office--”
“Whoa,” I cut her off. “How do you know where my office is?”
The Bureau has gone to great lengths and expense in keeping our computer headquarters’ whereabouts confidential. The plain façade of the rental apartment building masks the hidden elevator that travels three stories underground to the bunker that houses the mainframe computers and grid for my department.
None of the agents assigned to my unit dress in suits, so, if the average person were to see us coming and going from the main entrance of the old brick building, we would look like regular tenants coming and going as we pleased.
“Like it’s a secret…” she answers sarcastically.
I clear my throat. “Actually, it is.”
“I have connections. You requested my file from the FSB, no?” Raven mentions the Federal Security Bureau, the most recent reincarnation of the old KGB.
She doesn’t wait for my answer. “I put a third party trace on the IP address that sent the initial request. Then, when the file was sent over, I assumed it was a dummy inbox that would be receiving it.”
She’s right. It was. There’s no way in hell any government agency would ever give a legitimate email address or anything else of that nature to a foreign intelligence agency. Nor would they give one to us.
Instead, we use “dummy” addresses that will accept the transmission, but then bump it along to the actual address that will receive it. Kind of like a middle man that hides the true identity of where the information will wind up at the end.
“So, I took the traced IP address from your initial request and then the dummy address from the information when it was sent back and stripped the code of both to see what they had in common.” She looks bored, like she’s explaining something as simple as basic math. “I have an algorithm to spot the common coordinates and match them up. Gave me the direct IP address. Both to the same computer. Your computer.”
It’s not a very cold night, but a chill creeps up my spine as I listen to how she has done what no other hacker could possibly do.
“That was almost a year ago,” I’m doing the math out loud, adding up the months since I made that initial request, back to when I first started investigating Raven.
“A very boring year, I might add,” she boasts. “Once I had the address of the computer, I was able to access the nearby traffic cameras to watch you coming and going to work. By the way, you spend too much time there. You need a life.”
It amazes me how she switches back and forth between a criminal mastermind and a sarcastic vixen, all in the same sentence. “Then I was able to zoom in on your car’s license plate number as you pulled away, and scour the motor vehicle databases for your address.”
I move to cut her off again, having caught a hole in her story. With the high level of security clearance that I have, the Bureau is sure not to use valid information on our driver’s licenses or in the Department of Motor Vehicle’s mainframe.
I don’t get a chance to voice my objection as she interrupts me. “Car insurance.”
My mouth rounds itself into an open “O” shape as I piece this all together.
“I couldn’t get a valid address for you from them, but they did use the correct VIN number for the vehicle. So, I ran an accident search for the car and found a claim from two years ago. The address on the insurance policy was close enough to your office to make sense for an easy commute,” she rattles off.
My mind races back to the sunny summer day when I was rear ended by a nearly blind eighty-year old woman who was barely tall enough to see over the steering wheel. The damage to her boat of a Buick was minimal but the ass of my Dodge Challenger was banged up enough to warrant a week in the body shop.
It’s becoming more than clear to me that the minimal information I had on Raven is nothing compared to what she’s got on me.
“Then, once I had your address, I tapped into your home Wi-Fi signal to activate the video cameras in your laptop and smart TV to monitor your apartment,” she finally concludes the synopsis.
“To monitor?” I ask, stunned. “You mean, spy?”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Her shoulders rise and fall quickly as she shrugs them. “You say potatoes, I say po-tah-toes.”
Every single muscle in my body tenses. “You’ve been watching my every move? Every day?”
I can’t even imagine the things she’s seen in the moments when I believed myself to be alone in the privacy of my own home.
Oddly enough, she looks mildly offended. “Not twenty-four hours a day, you know. I mean, I do have a life. Besides, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Her words say one thing but her tone and the blushing that’s spreading over her cheeks say something very different. Unconsciously, her eyes drop down to my crotch and I know she’s not looking there because of the keys hidden under the fabric.
A fire wells deep below, causing my cock to jump, knowing the things she’s seen.
Maybe more so because she seems to have… liked it.
“Now,” she’s not even the slightest bit embarrassed, “I’ve told you some things. Are you happy? We’ve really got to get going and don’t have time for any more games.”
There’s a naughty twinkle to her eye as she saunters over to where I’m caught still, stunned from learning the extent of her hacking skills. She’s an evil genius. A sexy, sultry, evil genius.
Stopping short in front of me, it’s suddenly obvious how much taller I am. Her dark eyes, nearly black against the backdrop of night, are aimed up, piercing my own. Her lips glisten in the moonlight and demand my attention.
Something is happening. Sure, I thought she was hot as hell before, with a perfect set of boobs and curved hips that will cause any sane man to look in lust. Now, though, she looks different to me. The extent of her determination and intelligence has only served to make her that much more irresistible. She’s the whole package. The perfect woman all wrapped up in one drool worthy body.
A charged energy begins to hum around us, or is it only in my mind? I think she can feel it, too, judging from the way she moves in slow motion, carefully reaching for my belt.
I swallow hard.
There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she wants.
It’s what I want, too…
My shoulders straighten and the outermost muscles of my body harden as one of her delicate, but criminally lethal, hands slips between the cotton of my boxers and the heat of my body, inching downward.
My abs tighten.
My cock aches.
A corner of her fingernail scrapes slightly against my bare skin and I hiss. Her hand freezes at the sound, cautiously. Her shadowy eyes widen in silent question. I don’t answer, instead I let the newly formed smirk on my lips dare her to continue.
And she does.
The weight of the keys has settled them down below my fully firm manhood. I can somehow feel the touch of her agile fingers before they actual caress the smooth skin of my shaft.
It doesn’t prepare me, though, doesn’t lessen the thrill of the contact between her body and mine. An electric jolt darts through m
y body and I can feel the thick flesh begin to pulse under her grip.
A moan is stifled deep within as Raven seems to decide whether to move on to the keys or stay where she is.
I know which one I want her to do.
The struggle is evident in her eyes, an inward war she must be fighting hard. I can smell her own arousal mixing in with the breezy, earthy night’s musk around us. I have half a mind to push her up against the hood of the car and bend her forward, having my way with her.
Our breathing matches, in sync with one another. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in the veins of my neck, my wrist, my cock. Animalistic instinct is about to kick in and take the choice in the matter out of both our hands.
The soft pads of her fingers, of the palm of her hand, make quick work of exploring the flesh they’ve discovered, snaking her thin fingers around the trunk only to find that the girth is such that she can’t close around it.
She takes in a sharp breath at the realization of it.
We’re standing close enough to one another where I can feel her nipples tighten and poke out through her thin shirt, grazing against my lower chest. She feels it too, whatever this is that’s taking over the moment.
An invisible gravitational force pulls us in toward the other, with the warmth of my breath bathing over her. I see her eyelids flutter and it fucking turns me on hard core, knowing I’m the one who’s causing it.
Just as our lips are about to finally touch her eyes close, and that simple action finds a way to trump the others and speak volumes. She trusts me, even in some small way, enough to leave herself vulnerable by blinding herself for a moment.
I take control of the moment and wrap my arm around her waist, wrapping it slowly to the far side, resting on her lower back, applying just the right amount of pressure to lure her into me, where she fits in every nook, the perfect height for me to bow my head and take her lips with my own.
They’re soft, much softer than I’d imagined and taste like some sort of waxy berry. The scent of her gloss wafts into my nostrils and I breathe it it, forming a textured memory of her.
Her lips move slowly easily pried open as mine are stronger, and I waste no time at all in finding the soft center that beckons me. Once I have it, I keep it, caressing and teasing its velvety softness.
Not long into the deep kiss, Raven moans from the base of her throat and I feel the vibrations coursing through me and feeding the flame that’s roaring down low.
I hear a sharp whizzing rip by, followed by a sudden stinging pain in my left ear. Instinct takes over and I push Raven down to the ground, breaking our lips apart and landing hard on the grass.
“What the--” She gasps from under my weight as I cover her strategically.
I cover her mouth with my hand. “Shh!”
My head lifts, scanning the area. I know I won’t be able to see much through the dark, but I pray I’ll see something before the next shot is taken, at least enough to know what direction it’s coming from.
With a stroke of nothing but luck, I can spot a thin red line bouncing about and landing on us. Using all of my body weight, I roll us both mere milliseconds before a light puff can be heard as the next bullet becomes embedded in the ground directly below where we were just lying.
A small mushroom-like cloud of dusty dirt plumes from the spot drawing Ravens attention. Her head turns quickly, snapping to the side to watch the dust settle. Her eyes grow wide with the understanding of what’s happening.
The red of the night scope’s light beam begins to dance on the ground closer to us, bopping about in an unsteady manner trying to find its target once more.
“Run!” I push Raven forward, crawling low to the ground back in the direction of the car. Another whizzing puffed sound can be heard and I can tell it was only inches from my right foot.
Making it to the car in record time, I reach up and pull on the door handle urging Raven inside before following. My hand fishes to retrieve the keys from where I’d tauntingly hidden them before from Raven.
“Hurry, hurry!” Raven urges me on as I shuffle between the two keys on the ring, inserting the first into the steering column.
Raven is nearly jumping out of her seat, locking the doors as if that will magically stop a bullet from passing through.
The red beam of light returns, reflecting through the glass of the rear windshield and setting on the center heating vent.
Pushing the key in, it moves, but won’t sink into the ignition. It’s not the right one. Fuck!
“Get down!” I use my free hand to push Ravens head down to her knees where it stays frozen, until the flying pieces of dashboard shrapnel and glass are finished exploding around us. With no time left to spare before the next, and possibly last, shot is taken, I jam the second key into the steering column.
The engine roars to life with my hands slamming the gearshift forward and pressing the gas pedal down to the ground. The car lurches forward, screeching loudly and swerving until I can recover control of the steering, veering us back onto the paved highway.
Raven breathes heavily while turning in her seat to keep watch through the empty frame of the rear windshield.
“I don’t see them! Are they chasing us?” she asks aloud nervously over the road noise and whining engine.
Her question is answered soon enough by the sudden appearance of two very bright headlights appearing in the distance and closing the gap to where we are.
I can’t depress the pedal any further, and it’s obvious that the miniature version of a decent car is struggling at best. My eyes alternate between the road and the rearview mirror where the pair of headlights on our tail are growing in size.
Adrenaline is rushing, so much so that I feel no pain from the graze on my ear where the bullet passed close enough to draw blood. I’m not a bad shot myself when shooting targets and even the occasional times I’ve actually had to shoot a perp, but whoever the marksman is that pulled the trigger back there, he’s a much better shooter than I am. Especially given the fact that it’s night.
“He’s gaining on us!” Raven is nearly in a panic.
I’m already fully aware of the gravity of the situation and don’t necessarily need her play by play. Deciding we don’t have any other choice, I realize that the time has come for drastic measures.
Hanging onto the wheel with one hand, I reach for her with the other, grabbing around her slender waist and slamming her down into the seat that she’s practically trying to crawl over to see better.
“Sit your ass down! And put your seatbelt on. NOW!” I’m still forming the half brained plan in my head. The chances of this working are slim to none, but I can’t think of anything else to do.
I take a deep breath and work up the nerve to do this. “Hold on!”
Jerking the wheel sharply, I cut the lights and veer into the darkness, using a hope and a prayer as we bump along into the abandoned field. Checking the rearview mirror, I see that, as planned, the car chasing us has zoomed past, not having been able to anticipate what I’d be doing ahead of time.
“Get ready to jump!” I unbuckle my seatbelt and open my car door, hoping she gets the gist of what we’ll be doing.
“You—you can’t be serious?!” Her words are nearly screeching as she realizes what we’re about to do.
Reaching back behind her seat, I grab the canvas duffel bag that holds her laptop and things, clutching it to my chest as I continue to press the gas.
“Just dive and then roll. Quick, before they come looking for us,” I instruct. “Now!”
Reluctantly, she does as she’s told and disappears through her car door with a whelp to be heard where she must have landed.
Lunging forward, my shoulder is the first to make contact with the hard ground, sending a shooting pain up into my neck. I ignore it and continue the roll, holding on dearly to Raven’s bag of goods, protecting it.
The inertia of essentially jumping from a speeding car takes time to dwindle as I tumble over and ove
r again, holding in the painful grunts that the impact demands.
Once the last of the rough somersaults is completed and I’m lying on my back staring up at the stars above, I give myself a few breaths to recover before crawling to my hands and knees, creeping low and following the whimpering sounds of pain that lead me to Raven.
In the muted moonlight, I can make out the shadowy silhouette of her body lying limp on the grass. I skid to her side and use my hands to work over her, assessing any damage.
She’s dry, with no bleeding. I use my fingers to search around her wrists, forearms, shoulders, ribs, thighs, knees, calves.
No broken bones, as best as I can tell, at least none protruding through her skin.
“Can you move?” I ask.
She can’t form words to answer, but instead uses a mixture of moaning and crying.
“I know it hurts, but we need to move. They’ll be back shortly. Come on, crouch low and lean on me.” I help her to her knees and get us both moving in the direction of the road.
The headlights of the chasing car can be seen once again, this time aimed at the direction where our abandoned vehicle is still rolling, serving as a decoy while we make our escape.
She stumbles, limps, and waivers- but she moves nonetheless with determination. “My laptop--”
“I have it,” I reassure her, referring to the contents in her travel bag that’s tucked under the arm not being used to prop her up.
I can hear wheezing coming through her labored breathing. That’s not good. That’s not good at all.
Still, she champions through, moving at my pace until we reach the roadside. With a stroke of luck such that I’d never though possible, two dim, flickering headlights belonging to an old, beat-up farming truck come to a slow stop.
“How do you say help in Ukrainian?” I ask Raven as the curious driver of the rusted truck leans over the passenger seat to open the door and greet us.
Her voice is coarse. Weak. “Dopomoha.”
CHAPTER FIVE
RAVEN
“Water,” I speak. My voice actually hurts as if unused for more time than it should have been.
