The Paris Assignment (13 page)

Did it make sense to continue denying it? Especially when they labored under the very real threat of danger from an unknown assailant?

She’d always thought the concept of falling for someone during a heightened period of danger seemed silly, but now that she was faced with the situation herself, she couldn’t fully ignore how her attraction to him only continued to burn hotter and hotter.

She toweled off and found her comb, separating the long wet strands of her hair as she considered what might come next. And reached for her robe when she heard the knock on her bedroom door.

The thin silk didn’t hide all that much, but it was a suitable cover as she crossed to the door.

And found Campbell standing on the other side.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were working.”

“I will be, but figured I’d take a few moments to relax while I could squeeze them in.”

“Wise choice.”

She didn’t miss how his gaze stayed firmly on her face. The sweet gesture arrowed to the center of her heart and lightened her dour mood considerably.

“You don’t look quite so sad. As before.”

“I’ve been through so many emotions in the last few days I’m not sure which one’s the strongest.” She opened the door wider and gestured him to a small sofa in a sitting room off her bedroom. “Come on in. I’m going to change and then we can figure out what we’re going to do about the neighbors.”

She didn’t miss how his heated gaze roamed over her back as she moved into her bathroom, his reflection more than clear in the broad mirror that ran the full length of the wall.

Yes, she was sad. And overwhelmed by feelings she’d long thought buried, Abby thought as she closed the bathroom door.

But none of it could take away the sense of anticipation that filled her at the fact that he saw her as a woman.

* * *

Stef Nichols lay in her small studio apartment, splayed on the sofa bed she pulled out every night, and stared at the ceiling. Her conversation with Lucas played over and over in her mind as shadows played across the ceiling and the noises of Kew Gardens, Queens, echoed outside the walls.

He’d sounded so tired. So worn. And so very ready for all of it to be over.

It shot a spear of anger through her as she thought of the woman who’d put those feelings there. Who’d made him so sad and tired. So frustrated and disappointed at the continued lack of acceptance to any of his numerous outreaches.

Abby.

Stef hadn’t believed Lucas at first—had been shocked and amazed and more than a little skeptical there was even a connection between her new lover and her boss—but he’d convinced her.

Oh, how he’d convinced her.

The emails he’d shown her. His mother’s old journals. Even the tersely worded letter from Abby’s father to Lucas’s mother. All of them proved, without a doubt, that Lucas had been denied his birthright.

Stef lifted her left hand and gazed at her naked fourth finger in the ambient light from the streetlamps outside her window. The finger where he’d place a ring.

Soon.

So very soon.

A light sound—the barest scrape against the hardwood floors near her front door—had her sitting upright. She glanced toward her small galley kitchen, unable to see around the small bar that separated the galley from the front door. She swung her legs over the bed, but the light sound turned into a heavy thud as the form of a man appeared and fear cratered through her system.

A scream flooded her throat, but the man was on top of her before she could move, his hand over her mouth as he pressed her back into the thin sofa mattress.

How had he gotten in? Why was he here? What had she done?

She’d been awake. Daydreaming, yes, but awake. She’d never even heard him.

The intruder leaned down and pressed his lips against her ear. His hot breath sent the coldest of chills racing down her spine.

He was going to rape her. Or something even worse.

Willing her thudding pulse to calm, she fought to gather herself so the moment he moved—and he’d have to move if he wanted to remove her clothes and his own—she’d leap. Would knee him to within an inch of his life, then run.

Her landlord was downstairs. Neighbors she didn’t know very well but who would help her. Someone would be there to help her.

They
had
to help her.

“Do you know why I’m here?” His voice scratched against her ear and she sensed the innate joy he took from the fear that flooded off her in sickening waves.

She tried to shake her head but he held her in place while she mumbled a denial against his hand.

“I’m going to tell you. I always think the people I kill have a right to know why I’m here.”

Her eyes went wide at that, the simple answer smooth as velvet and colder than the Hudson in February.

“You trusted the wrong man, sweetheart.”

The breath that was crushed from her by the heavy weight of his body fully evaporated at the man’s words.

Lucas?

“I can see you know who I mean. Your boyfriend. Bet he told you something nice and sweet about how much he loved you. How great and wonderful you are and how you’re the woman he’s spent his whole life looking for.”

Despite the roiling, greasy fear that glugged its way through her system, the truth of the man’s words rang true. They were the voice of a stranger, come to prove to her for the last time why she’d never deserved love in the first place.

The executioner who’d ensure she knew each and every one of her sins before she paid for them.

“Your fancy London boyfriend is a liar and a thief. But—” the man’s eyes grew philosophical as they bored into hers “—he pays well. And he ensures I get to do what I love more than anything else in this world.”

Even without that confirmation, Stef knew. Knew he wasn’t going to move. Knew he wasn’t going to give her a chance to break free.

She saw it in his eyes—felt the determination in his touch—before he shifted for the final time, his hands at her neck.

Oh, yes, she knew he did what he loved—knew it with bone-deep certainty—as the world faded away to nothing.

Chapter 10

C
ampbell sat down on the small, refined couch Abby had directed him to and scrubbed his hand over his face. What the hell was he thinking, coming to her bedroom? He only intended to check on her and make sure she was all right. Instead, he’d been turned inside out and upside down by the mere sight of her in the thin robe that highlighted more than it hid.

The light sheen of moisture on her neck had nearly been his undoing, even as he tried diligently to keep his eyes above the V of her robe.

She was back in moments, but she could have been gone an hour and he’d likely not have noticed, his mind was so filled with her.

Campbell allowed himself a moment to simply take her in as she crossed the room toward him. She wore a baby-blue cashmere sweater that sculpted her body before falling just so to skim the tops of her thighs. The light color was set off by dark blue jeans that gave her legs a long coltish look and bare feet.

The look was sexy and a bit bohemian with the bare feet and her still-damp hair flipped back over her shoulder.

She dropped into the small wingback chair next to him. “We need to game plan for the visit to my neighbors.”

“Abby. I’m not sure it’s all that good an idea any longer.”

“Why not?” She sat back, curiosity riding high on her face. “It made sense yesterday when T-Bone first suggested the problem was housed next door.”

“That was before you got a threat that was far more personal than anything that’s come before. He’s escalating, Abby.”

“And we’re going to set up a trap to catch him and we need to use every weapon at our disposal in order to do that. You know as well as I do the likelihood of finding something next door is high.”

Campbell knew she was right and he also knew she was the only one who had a chance of getting quick and immediate access into her neighbors’ home. He could put the security team on it, but the amount of time it would take them to secure access to the home and then do a search, they might as well forget about it.

He glanced over at her, intrigued to see a rosy glow riding her cheekbones. “Was your shower too hot?”

“Hot enough, why?”

“You’re glowing.”

The briefest smile hovered in her eyes before she turned toward him, her gaze bright and eager. “I realized something when I slowed down and thought for a moment. I don’t think that was my mother’s hair.”

Campbell wanted to believe her—and anything that took those shadows of fear from her eyes was well worth evaluating further—but he also didn’t want her to develop false hope. “Why?”

“I think that package this morning was meant to scare me, nothing more.”

“That’s an awfully calculated risk.”

“Think about it, though. That was a pretty significant hank of hair. And my mother died twenty-five years ago. Wouldn’t it have aged somehow? I don’t know how to explain it, but I just don’t think it would look quite as shiny and new as what was in the box.”

Forensics wasn’t his area but Campbell figured she might have a decent point.

“And further, while I’d be hard-pressed to remember anything about my mother’s viewing and funeral, I know my father would have noticed if a large piece of her hair was missing. Or it certainly would have been addressed by the funeral home.”

“So you think it was a ploy to scare you?”

“I do. I’d like to get the sample tested all the same but I find it hard to believe it’s really my mother’s hair.”

Campbell turned the thought over in his mind. The box of hair had been sick and twisted, but it would also be a thoroughly effective way to scare someone and throw them off of the real problem.

In fact, it
had
thrown them off the real problem, tying up the security team for a few hours and off the bigger task at hand which was securing the house.

“You really think she was the victim of an accident?”

“I’ve got no reason to think otherwise.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“For the moment, let’s assume I am right. And if I’m not, then we’ll deal with that bridge when we come to it.”

They’d discussed her mother in small snatches of conversation, but this was the first where he didn’t hear that ages-old pain layered underneath her voice. Instead, her pragmatism was refreshing and he couldn’t hold back the surge of pride at her ability to keep her focus.

Especially in the midst of a chilling personal attack.

“I’m also glowing because despite the current situation I find myself in, I love the first day of the Paris trip and thinking about what’s to come. I think that’s what’s so upsetting about all this.”

“The break in rhythm?”

“That and the fact that there is so much work that goes into this week, it’s fun to sit back and relax and take the time to enjoy all the effort. And some jerk’s messing with that and taking away all the joy.”

“You’re certainly not afraid of hard work.”

“Why should I be? We all have gifts. I can’t think of anything more boring or unfulfilling than sitting around waiting for something to be handed to me instead of using those gifts.”

The earnest expression that filled her face simply shattered him. Here was a woman who could have anything in the world she wanted, yet she’d chosen a life that provided her with fascinating challenges that stretched her mind and tested her abilities.

“I take pride in a job well done and I enjoy the collaboration with others. And right now, someone is trying to take it all away from me.”

“We’re going to get him, Abby. I know we are.”

“I believe you.” She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “I really do.”

He saw the trust in her gaze and knew he wouldn’t let her down. No matter what, he’d find the person responsible.

He’d done the same for Sarah and had gotten her justice.

There was no way he’d allow Abby to settle for anything less.

* * *

Kensington Steele paced her office, staring over T-Bone’s prodigious shoulder midway through every crossing. “Why is this guy so hard to find?”

“We’re doing our best.”

“I know you are. Which is why I’m getting more and more concerned. There are none better than you and my brother. And this jerk’s making things awfully difficult.”

“Challenging,” T-Bone muttered through gritted teeth as he pounded in a few commands on his laptop. “That’s all it is. Challenging.”

“Sorry. Challenging.”

Since she couldn’t understand a bit of the endless strings of code that flew over the man’s screen, she resumed her pacing and headed for the inlaid bookcases that filled the far wall of her office.

A family portrait taken in the South of France the year before her parents were killed sat in a place of honor, framed in ornate leaded glass.

She remembered that day as if it had happened only the week before. They’d laughed like loons on that trip, teasing each other, swimming all day like a school of fish and playing endless rounds of games each night on the boat. That was also the first year she’d kicked Liam’s ass at poker, earning a deep smile of pride from her father.

The image of her and her family in the photo summed up the last time she was truly innocent as a human being.

And now her brother and one of her best friends were in the middle of something that was decidedly
not
innocent.

“You get Campbell’s email earlier?”

T-Bone never looked up but he was totally in tune with the conversation. “The photo of the hair? Sick bastard.”

“That’s the one. Abby doesn’t think it’s real.”

“Why not?” T-Bone looked up from the screen, his focus fully on her. “It’s sick either way, but who does something like that?”

“Someone trying to drag interest off of the main event.” She resumed her pacing and came to stand next to one of the few people who’d ever penetrated the inner workings of the Steele family. “You find anything in Abby’s secretary’s computer?”

“Not yet. But I did find some interesting things in her personal email.”

“You got in?”

The look of disgust on his face had her lifting her hands. “Sorry. Sorry. I should have known.”

“Then you also know I do not make it a habit to go rooting through others’ personal emails unless forced, but this is worth taking a look at.”

“What is it?”

“Look first and tell me what you see.”

T-Bone minimized the window that displayed the endless lines of scrolling computer code and pulled up a well-known free email provider.

She leaned more fully forward. “What am I supposed to see?”

“You tell me.”

“T. Come on, enough with the riddles. There’s nothing there other than two statements telling her that her credit cards are due.”

“That’s my point. It’s the woman’s personal email, yet there’s not a single email in or out of it.”

“People are known to file or delete what they don’t need.”

“Right. So look at this.” He flipped to the sent folder, but it was totally empty. “Nothing.”

Kensington wanted to believe there was something there, but a small voice kept rationalizing the woman’s behavior. Stef Nichols was an administrative assistant, for heaven’s sake. She knew how to keep things on track and presumably how to streamline her life. “I’m not buying this as proof, T. Maybe she’s neat. She may just want to keep her personal files clutter-free. I realize most of the world’s population are email hoarders, but it’s not a crime not to be one.”

“Then how do you explain this?”

T-Bone flipped to one more email client, this one a clear portal into the McBane Communications server. “She’s got work email out the wazoo.”

The urge to argue rose up, but she knew the argument was weak. “Because it’s her job. You can’t treat your work email like your personal email.”

One lone eyebrow rose over the penetrating depths of his dark eyes. “Aren’t you the one always saying there are no coincidences?”

“Yeah.”

“So why does the woman have every email she’s ever received since, oh—” T-Bone did a quick re-sort of the main folder “—the last six years, including an endless barrage of messages that contain the daily lunch special at Lucky Frankie’s Sub Shop, but she’s got nothing in her personal email?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. It smells funny. More to the point, it smells like a deliberate deletion of any and all record of her relationship with whoever it is we’re looking for. Now all I need to do is look at how often she logged into it from the office and see what traces I can find on her machine.”

“Abby already authorized the access but I’ll call her and let her know what you’ve found and what you’re going to do.”

Kensington pulled out her cell phone and dialed Abby’s number. As she waited for her friend to answer, her gaze drifted once more to the image of her family.

Innocence lost.

Just like Abby’s trusted assistant, Stef.

* * *

“I’m still not quite sure this is what T-Bone meant when he suggested you pay your neighbors a visit.”

Abby stared over the rooftop from her home to the ones on either side. Fresh air whipped around her and the bright light of day caught the strands, coloring them a rich shade of chocolate-brown.

The fresh air felt good after the forced confines of first the plane and later the house and it was nice to be outside.

What he couldn’t quite get comfortable with was the calculating, oh-so-slightly maniacal gleam that seemed to have settled itself in Abby’s eyes. “What else did he mean? We need to get inside and look around.”

“We can still contact their security companies. I’ve probably underestimated the speed which Dave can get through to the bigwigs.”

“They’ll stump him faster than the Bullet train.”

“It’s worth a try, Abby. You should be concentrating on what’s coming in a few hours and not planning a con into your neighbors’ house.”

“You know as well as I do the security firm that represents this home won’t share a blessed word if they think they’re being accused of not providing best-in-class service. Come on, Campbell. We need to get in and look around and we can’t wait. We need another clue to find our ghost.”

“You’re awfully chipper about this.”

She turned toward him, a broad smile covering her face. “I’m excited we finally have something
we
can take action on instead of sitting still under some puppet master’s strings.”

“We’re making progress and T-Bone should have some news any minute on Stef’s email.”

“I know.” She brushed off the monumental streak of embarrassment she felt at digging through her assistant’s email, even though she was well within her rights to have a search of anything that was done on McBane property and through their technology systems.

Still, it bothered her and she’d almost called off the search altogether as it felt like such a violation.

Of course, it wouldn’t feel like a violation when it definitively cleared Stef’s name from consideration.

“So come on. Back to all that progress. Let’s go.”

“You sure you’re ready?”

“I’m more than ready. The last few days have been like sitting in the middle of the street, naked, with everyone watching and no way to find my clothes.”

She knew the moment the word
naked
hit his thought processes because she saw that sloe-eyed look come over Campbell’s face as his blue eyes turned a deep shade of indigo. With the sweetest voice she could muster, she widened her own eyes. “What is it? You look upset.”

“Never use the word
naked
around a man.”

She added a saucy wink to the grin she couldn’t hold back as they descended toward to the first floor. “All part of my diabolical plot.”

“Which is?”

“You’ll be thinking of my naked body instead of how much you’d rather not be traipsing through my neighbors’ house.”

Since the comment shut him up, Abby figured her plan had real merit. She was also comforted by the exceedingly legitimate setup they’d concocted for the discussion with her neighbors, Etienne and Celine.

Campbell might be the security expert, but it was common knowledge in technology fields that the best hacking consisted of advance planning that had nothing to do with technology and everything to do with human behavior. Identifying the proper levers to pull—and working through a realistic con—were essential to a successful hack.