“Whatever the customer wants.” Daniel hunched his shoulders in a what are you gonna do shrug. “That deadline is looming. I figured I’d stay late tonight and make as much headway as possible.”
“Man, am I happy Justin put you on this team.” John clamped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take it easy.”
“You too. And good luck to your son’s team this year.”
“Not my son,” John said with a proud smile. “It’s my daughter. She’s the placekicker.” He pointed at Daniel. “Don’t stay here all night.”
Playing the part of the dedicated night owl willing to sacrifice his evening for the sake of the job might score him a few brownie points, but this wasn’t about impressing Trendsetters’ upper management. There was only one reason he remained in this near-empty office. It was time he make a true attempt to enter the security division’s inner sanctum.
Today marked eight weeks since he’d started at Trendsetters. Call him cocky, but he’d figured by now he would be back in Virginia getting briefed on his next assignment. The fact that he hadn’t gotten past the damn door of the Security Department was in-fucking-conceivable.
There were only two people in Trendsetters’ Cybersecurity division tonight, but they hadn’t left the room unmanned for a second. Earlier in the evening, Daniel had downloaded malware to his desktop in an attempt to draw them out. He’d waited until one of them went to the restroom, then quickly deployed the malware and put a call in to security.
He had no way of knowing that, at the time, the remaining guy happened to be helping a Trendsetter employee who was working remotely. Daniel’s malware problem wasn’t considered a big enough issue to elevate it, so he’d had to wait for the employee who’d gone to the restroom. It was a completely wasted effort. Worse, it eliminated that option from his toolkit. If he employed the malware again security would most likely flag him for being careless.
Realistically, he knew his chances at breaching security tonight were nil, but Daniel still wasn’t ready to go home. Quentin was there. He’d done his best to avoid his “roommate” since running into him at the Latin dance club on Saturday. He knew the censure he’d get—the censure he deserved—and he wasn’t in the mood for it.
Earlier, before he’d decided to take a run at breaching the Security Department, he’d asked Samiah to dinner, even though he knew her Monday nights were earmarked for binge-watching the few television shows she allowed herself to watch. But she wasn’t watching Grey’s Anatomy tonight. She was having dinner with her parents who’d driven in from Houston. When she told him about her plans, he’d immediately started to mentally thumb through his closet, trying to figure out what he was going to wear. And then he realized that she hadn’t invited him to join her.
For a large swath of his afternoon, Daniel hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than what it meant that Samiah didn’t want her family to know about him. Apparently, she didn’t want her friends to know about him either. Not that he wanted to intrude on her girls’ night out Friday rituals—he would decline if she ever asked him to tag along—but she had yet to suggest he stop by to meet Taylor and London. Was he mistaken in thinking that a woman would want to introduce her new boyfriend to her friends?
Unless she didn’t consider him to be her boyfriend.
They hadn’t discussed official labels or anything like that. And just because Joelle had paraded him around like a live-action G.I. Joe doll to her friends didn’t mean Samiah would do the same. Maybe he was reading too much into this.
No matter what, the fact that he wasn’t meeting her parents, or her sister and brother-in-law, or even her friends, was a stark reminder of where things actually were between them. Fuck, it was a reminder that there shouldn’t even be anything between them at all. What excuse could he give if anyone back at FinCEN discovered what he’d been up to with Samiah? It was in only the rarest circumstances that any kind of romantic involvement with a subject was allowed—those cases where an agent’s cover had the possibility of being blown.
Samiah’s tangential affiliation with Hughes Hospitality didn’t come close to justifying what he was doing. Allowing himself to get in too deep with her could lead to detrimental consequences.
“You’re already in too deep,” he said with a groan.
He needed to break this case open and get the hell out of Austin. It was the only way he could see himself giving up the drug that was Samiah Brooks.
Daniel forced himself to put her out of his head. He wouldn’t make any more attempts to access the database tonight, but he still had legitimate work he could be doing right now, both for Trendsetters and for FinCEN. The final specs for the Leyland Group’s new customer management system were due within the next week. And, back at FinCEN, Preston had asked for help on a case that was tied to one Daniel had worked on last year.
He forwarded the old emails and voicemails to Preston, then returned to working on the back-end architecture for the Leyland Group’s WLAN design. Their team had been told just this morning that Leyland’s upper management decided to go with this configuration, which, coincidentally, was the same one Hughes Hospitality had used for their wireless local area network. Suddenly, being placed on this team worked in his favor. He now had access to information that had been previously out of his reach.
As he read over the details of the initial design, a name on the original team popped out at him.
“What the—?”
Daniel switched between screens, his heart suddenly thumping with enough bass to rival every track on Dr. Dre’s The Chronic album.
“No way,” he whispered.
He looked over each shoulder to make sure he was alone, then pulled out his tablet and clicked on the folder that contained the dossiers he’d been briefed with before starting at Trendsetters. He scanned the file names and, once he found the one he was looking for, tapped to open it. The work history section went back only two and a half years. FinCEN had gathered as much information on Trendsetters’ employees as possible, but he’d been told before leaving Virginia that some files were incomplete.
“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Daniel whispered. Why hadn’t he made this connection?
He shut down his computer, quickly packed up his gear, and left the office, all thoughts of avoiding Quentin forgotten. If the man still wanted to rail at him over his relationship with Samiah, he could do it once he and Daniel talked through this newest revelation.
When he opened the door to the apartment, he found Quentin in his usual spot, on the sofa surrounded by files and reports.
“Well, well, well,” Quentin sang, his eyes still on his case files. “Look who decided to make an appearance.”
“Mike Epsen worked on the Hughes Hospitality account when it first came to Trendsetters.”
Quentin set the file folder on the sofa and turned. “Isn’t that the guy who got hit while riding his bicycle? The one whose place you took on that new project?”
Daniel nodded as he walked over to him and handed him the iPad with Mike’s dossier.
“Hughes Hospitality had been on FinCEN’s radar for months, but it was an anonymous tip that drew our attention to the Trendsetters connection. Dwyer said the tipster kept in regular contact, never revealing himself or a name, just making sure they knew the laundering was still going on. About two weeks ago the tips stopped coming. Just went completely dark.”
“Around the same time Mike Epsen’s bicycle had an unfortunate meeting with the front fender of that bus,” Quentin said. “But, seriously, do you think a city bus driver is somehow connected to this?”
“No, the bus driver wasn’t at fault.” Daniel shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you? I got the whole story a couple of days after the accident. A car encroached on the bike lane, which caused Mike to swerve into the bus. But the driver of the car never stopped. Everyone has been going on the assumption that the person driving the car was texting or distracted in some way and just didn’t see what happened. But no
w?”
“My old boss had a saying, coincidences are just connections that haven’t been made yet,” Quentin said. “I think this is a piece of that connection.”
“That accident was no accident. It was meant to scare him into silence.”
“Mission accomplished.” Quentin looked up at him. “Do you think your girlfriend can shed some light on it?”
Daniel dropped his head back. Staring up at the kidney-shaped water stain on the ceiling, he released a deep sigh. “You couldn’t wait to go there, could you?”
“I’m just saying.” Quentin held his hands up. “If you’re going to violate rules, at least make it work in your favor. Find a way to bring Mike’s name up in conversation. Ask her how his department is handling his absence, if coworkers have had to step in for Mike in the past. Maybe she can give you some clues that can help you figure out if he’s your tipster.”
“Or maybe I can go and see Mike for myself,” Daniel said.
“I’d clear it with FinCEN before taking that step.” He gestured at Daniel’s iPad. “Let them know about that ASAP. It may be all the evidence you need to convince Dwyer that you need to take this investigation to the next level. Who knows, you may be on your way back to Virginia sooner rather than later.”
Daniel nodded, but the sudden onset of nausea in his belly was telling.
He was here for one reason only, to uncover who had been using Hughes Hospitality as a front to launder money. He should be euphoric at the thought of catching a break in this case. That Vegas job—the prize—was waiting for him, like a golden ticket sitting behind protective glass, just out of his reach. This possible connection between Mike Epsen’s accident and the money laundering could be the key to unlocking that glass box.
So why did the thought of bringing this case to a close leave such a horrible taste in his mouth?
Chapter Twenty
Squinting, Samiah leaned forward until the laptop was only a few inches from her face. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, yelling at her not to put her eyes too close to the screen or else she’d burn her eyeballs. Too late. Between her phone, laptop, tablet, and two computer monitors at work, she spent at least 80 percent of her day staring at a retina screen. The damage was already done.
An anxious flutter rolled through her stomach as she examined the API she’d spent much of the past few weeks building and tweaking, then tweaking and rebuilding. This was it. The deciding factor when it came to making the deadline for the Future in Innovation Tech Conference. She’d already accepted that if she wasn’t able to validate the JSON API schema, she wouldn’t bother signing up for one of the coveted spots at FITC when it came to Austin in the spring.
The closest she’d ever come to experiencing something akin to a panic attack swept through her as her finger hovered over the keyboard. The countless hours she’d pumped into creating this app, the dreams she’d attached to it; it all came down to this single component.
She crossed her fingers, then pressed ENTER and watched as the colorful pinwheel turned and turned and turned on the screen.
The screen blinked and when it came back, her schema had been validated.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” Samiah jumped up from the sofa and slid across her living room floor in her socks, underwear, and shirt, à la Tom Cruise in Risky Business. It felt as if a balloon filled with glitter had just exploded inside her chest.
Her immediate thought was to share her news with Daniel. Her fingers fumbled as she typed out the text message and sent him a snapshot of her laptop screen.
He replied with a GIF of a man break-dancing, his tracksuit, thick gold chain, and Kangol cap straight out of 1985. Samiah burst out laughing. The reply was so on brand.
A few minutes later, her phone vibrated with another text from Daniel: BUZZ ME UP.
She called him. “Are you downstairs?”
“Yeah. I was on my way to surprise you with dinner when you texted. I know you’ve been swamped trying to build this API and figured you hadn’t taken the time to eat.”
It felt as if her heart had swelled to three times its normal size. After the years she’d spent settling for so far less than what she deserved, it was acts like this one that showed her how truly special Daniel was. It meant more than any expensive, grand gesture ever would.
She called down to the building’s concierge and gave the doorman permission to let him up. She considered remaining in her T-shirt and underwear, but decided to throw on a pair of shorts. As much as she wanted to hang an OPEN FOR BUSINESS sign on the rim of her panties, social conventions drilled into her by her very proper mother demanded she be a bit more refined.
She answered the door and refinement went out the window.
There was nothing particularly exceptional about a simple black T-shirt and jeans, but on Daniel Collins the harmless combination looked lethal. The soft jersey fabric contoured over his sculpted chest and subtly muscular biceps. His well-worn jeans clung deliciously to his hips, accentuating his slender yet powerful build. All she could think about was peeling them off.
“Congratulations,” Daniel said. “It seems to me we have a reason to celebrate.”
“I would say so,” Samiah replied. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, then grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled him into the condo.
She relieved him of the bag from her favorite Mexican restaurant, set it on the table in her small foyer, closed the door behind him, and pressed him against it.
“Okay, Collins, this can go one of two ways: If you’re not ready to take this next step, you can sit here and eat dinner while I go to my room and get myself off. Or, you can get me off—no, we can get each other off. Then we can eat tacos naked—there’s really no better way to eat them. But that’s only after we’ve both come at least twice. So, which works for you?”
“Coming twice,” he said. “Definitely coming twice. And then naked tacos.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Samiah said.
She captured his face in her hands and crushed her mouth to his. His tongue quickly delved past her lips, probing with hurried, insistent strokes. She had been anticipating this for weeks. Daydreaming about it. Craving it. If ever there was a reason to finally give in to this insane pull between them, celebrating this breakthrough with her app was as good as any.
Daniel’s hands went to her waist, then down to her ass, his caress wild and fervent. He clutched her tight, pulling her flush against him. Samiah’s nipples instantly hardened while everything else went soft and hot. She felt herself melting under the heat of his passionate response.
Her lips still connected with his, she started moving, dragging him toward her bedroom, stepping out of her shorts and flinging them toward the sofa as they made their way past the living room.
“This feels like rom-com movie sex,” she said against his lips.
He chuckled. “Is that a good thing?”
“As long as we don’t break any bones and end up in the emergency room.”
“What about the headboard?” he asked.
She pulled back slightly and stared at him. “Did I hear that correctly? Did you just promise me headboard-breaking sex?”
His brow lifted in the sexiest way imaginable. “You got a problem with that?”
Samiah flattened her palm against his chest and pushed him into her room.
“Get in the bed.”
He grabbed her by the waist and traveled with her down onto the bed, climbing up her body and planting kisses along her neck and shoulder. Samiah pulled his T-shirt over his head, then went to work on his jeans, unbuttoning them and ripping the zipper with such zeal she nearly broke it.
They shoved the rest of their clothes off, then worked as a team to roll on the condom he’d taken from his wallet.
“Stupid question time,” Daniel said as he braced his hands on either side of her head. “Are you sure about this?”
“That is a stupid question. The stupidest question ever.”
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“I know, but I still have to hear you say it,” he said.
“Yes!” Samiah shouted. “Yes, please, give me the headboard-breaking sex you promised!”
He grinned. “I hope these walls are well insulated. I guess you’ll know by the way your neighbors look at you from now on.”
He dipped his head to capture her mouth. At the same time, he hooked his arm in the cradle behind her knee and brought her leg up as he plunged into her. Samiah bowed, her back lifting from the mattress, reaching for him.
Each stroke sent her careering closer to the edge, the intensity of the sensations spiraling through her so fierce they stole her breath away. She wrapped her other leg around his and began to move, pumping her hips in rhythm to his thrusts, closing her eyes and concentrating on the sharp beams of pleasure shooting across her skin like fireworks.
“This is…so good,” Samiah moaned. “So…good.”
She felt Daniel’s lips at her ear. “It’s about to get better,” he whispered.
He slipped out of her and traveled down her torso, peppering her stomach with kisses before hooking her legs over his shoulders and bathing the spot between her legs with his tongue. Her response was pure reflex, her muscles moving of their own volition. She clamped her thighs against his head and squeezed.
“Samiah—”
She released his head. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to kill you.”
His eyes glittered with amusement, his grin so sexy she nearly climaxed at the sight of it.
“There are worse ways to go, but it’d be a damn shame if I died in the middle of this.” His brow quirked. “Now, can I finish down here?”
“Please,” she breathed.
His tongue was like magic, casting an exquisite spell on her with each delicious stroke. Every cell in her body tensed, her skin growing taut as her pleasure built just below the surface. Two strokes more and she blew apart, her orgasm so intense she shook with it.
“God, you’re beautiful when you do that,” Daniel said.
She felt beautiful. And sated.
The Boyfriend Project Page 19
