Tempt Me (9 page)

As Jack described her relationship with Cooper—lab partners in her computer science doctoral program, where their relationship had inevitably turned romantic—Rafe’s blood pressure rose. “So let me see if I have this straight. Cooper was your lab partner, then your lover. How old were you?”

Bailey’s cheeks were as pink as the Braeburn apple Lukas had given her. “Eighteen.”

He considered her. “You were in a doctoral program at eighteen.”

“I was...precocious.”

“Intellectually, yes—but in terms of relationships, you were a babe in the woods, easy pickings.”

“I deposed Cooper to help build Bailey’s defense,” Jack said. “He’s a major league asshole, and an expert manipulator.”

“Social engineer,” Bailey corrected.

“What?”

“His technical skills are average at best, but he’s the most skilled social engineer I’ve ever known.”

“What’s a social engineer?” Antonia asked before he could.

“A social engineer exploits human gullibility to extract private or confidential information. He or she then uses that information to access data, systems or facilities they aren’t authorized to access.” She bit into the apple with a soft crunch, chewed and swallowed. “I worked the architecture, design and coding side of our dissertation project, and he worked the rest. The division of labor catered to our individual strengths.”

“What was your project?” he asked.

She glanced at Jack, then at the table. “I had an idea for a way to reduce malicious incursion risk against high-value databases—”

“He tried to hack the freaking NSA and left you holding the bag,” Jack snapped. “He manipulated you. He stole your code. He adapted it—poorly. He—”

“I should have known what he was doing,” she snapped back. “I was asleep at the wheel.”

The guilt and shame coursing through her system nearly overwhelmed him.

“And times have changed,” she continued. “These days, he doesn’t even have to know how to code to launch a successful denial of service attack. It’s automated; all you need is a goddamn credit card to buy the tool. Or—” she gestured to the wall-mounted screen “—he can outsource the job.” She rubbed her neck, blew out a breath. “He has an undergrad degree in psychology. He’s a master at reading body language and facial expressions. He used to take acting and improvisation classes; maybe he still does. He keeps detailed dossiers on all of his targets. He’s...a freaking chameleon. He can assume nearly any persona or role, become part of any group, have his victims believing exactly what he wants them to believe.” She sagged slightly, like a balloon losing its air. “He was good back then, and from what I’ve heard, he’s only gotten better with time. Do not underestimate him.”

Rafe wanted to punch something. “You were her attorney, right?” he asked Jack. “Sounds like this d-bag was behind the whole thing. How—”

“Bailey wouldn’t name him as an accomplice, much less the mastermind.”

“Why?”

Bailey crossed her arms and didn’t answer.

“The judge was influenced by her youth and her clean record,” Jack said, “but despite my best efforts, and the fact that the incursion attempt was officially deemed unsuccessful, she still did some time.”

Bailey shrugged a shoulder. “Less than a month at a minimum security facility. I met some nice women. Caught up on my reading.”

Despite her careless tone, he sensed the residual fear jumping in her stomach like grasshoppers. Bailey had some acting skills he hadn’t been aware of.

“Thankfully this happened before 9/11, or the outcome would have been fathoms worse,” Jack added.

“Wyatt never did get that degree.” Bailey smiled tightly. “Pity.”

Chico jammed his thumb through the skin of the orange, filling the air with a sharp spritz of citrus. “So, he doxxed you on a message board. He’s presumably responsible for the incursion attempts at Sebastiani Labs, and he’s the primary suspect for the apartment break-in. What does he want?”

“Other than Bailey? Unknown,” Jack answered. “We need more information. He and his friends haven’t cracked SL yet—”

“And they won’t,” Bailey nearly snarled.

“Hey, you have to sleep sometime,” Chico said. “When did you start work today?”

“About three,” she admitted. “I was awake, heard the ping, and drove over so I could give Cheyenne a hand.”

She’d been working since three a.m.? Hell, she had to be running on caffeine and adrenaline.

The door opened, and Lukas came back in, popping an antacid from the tube he always carried in his back pocket. “Where are we at?” He didn’t explain why he’d left so suddenly, but he looked rattled.

“We were just talking about the ‘why’,” Jack said. “What’s Cooper’s end game? What does he want, and why now?” He set the remote on the table. “We have the thread at the message board, a break-in, a stolen computer, and an uptick in malicious incursion attempts at SL. So far, Bailey is the common denominator.”

Bailey shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable. “We have to assume he’s done a thorough physical recon of Sebastiani Labs,” she said. “That he has spatial knowledge of the SL campus, its entrances and exits, the roads in and out. Escape routes. He’s probably tried to tailgate into the building, chatting with the people taking smoke breaks so he can enter without an employee badge.” She paused, staring at Cooper’s picture, still displayed on the screen. “People are the weakest link.”

Though her voice was steady, she leached self-recrimination. He choked back his feeble, helpless rage. “How do we take this guy down?”

“That’s where you come in.” When Lukas flipped on the room lights, Rafe saw that every eye in the room was on him. “We need to draw him out.”

“How?”

“Jealousy.” Lukas glanced at Bailey. “Jack told me about the packages and mail you receive. Cooper’s still fixated on you.”

His head whipped to where Bailey sat, fiddling with a blue gel ice pack. “He’s stalking you?”

She paused, then shrugged. “Nothing actionable.”

He shot Lukas and Jack a disgusted look. “You really can’t do anything about this?”

“He’s smart and he’s careful. No handwriting or prints to analyze, no return address, generic printer paper and ink.” Lukas looked at Bailey. “Have there been any incursion attempts against your personal accounts?”

“No.”

“The condo’s clean? No bugs?”

“I swept it as soon as I arrived at Bailey’s place and saw the computer was missing,” Jack answered. “Whoever stole the computer didn’t bother to install anything else.”

Bugs? Were they talking about surveillance equipment?

“How about your car?” Chico asked.

Bailey cursed under her breath. “It’s been over a week since I checked.”

Chico’s big fingers flew as he sent a text. Rafe had no doubt that a Sebastiani Security operative would be out in the parking lot checking Bailey’s car within minutes.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” he asked Lukas.

“Make him jealous. Piss him off. When he makes a mistake, we take him down.”

Bailey twisted around in her chair to glare at Lukas. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Lukas popped another antacid. “Let Cooper see you and Rafe spending time together. Wine and dine. Dance and date.” Lukas waved a hand toward him. “Rafe knows the drill.”

His eyes widened. What the hell was Lukas up to? “I don’t think—”

“Not interested?” Lukas said. “Okay. Chico, how about you?”

Chico grinned, the flash of his teeth rivaling the sparkle of the pea-sized diamonds he wore in both ears. “Sure—”

“Slow down,” he snapped. The prospect of someone else masquerading as Bailey’s lover sent his temper into the red zone. If anyone was going to do this, it would be him. But... “Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have deadlines and work commitments of my own.” He glanced at Bailey. “My gallery show next month...you’ve seen the direction my work is going. I might make better progress if we spent more time together.”

Color flushed into her cheeks as she eyed him, considering. Desire and guilt—she couldn’t hide either reaction, from him or from his siblings. Antonia watched them with unabashed interest.

“Okay,” Bailey blurted. 

She’d said okay.

Chico’s mini pinged softly. He swore as he read. “Bailey’s car’s been tagged.” He quickly dialed, speaking tersely to the person on the other end. “Don’t remove it. Check every car in the lot.” He hung up. “I’ll pull our security videos, see if the tracker was planted while you were parked here, but...”

“Who’d be that stupid?” Antonia finished.

“Your family’s cabin,” Bailey suddenly said, going pale as a ghost. “Whoever planted the tracker might have the coordinates to your family’s cabin.” She raised a fist to her stomach.

Chico’s mini pinged again. He read, pursing his lips. “Trackers on all your cars—including Rafe’s.”

Okay, that was creepy.

Jack cursed. “Probably planted when we were all at Bailey’s place last night.”

“So the cabin’s okay.”

Bailey was more concerned about preserving the location of a cabin than her own safety? Lukas had been right about guilting Bailey into moving into the penthouse with Sasha.

Lukas thumbed off another antacid, popped it in his mouth. “Let’s leave the trackers in place for now. I want him to know exactly where you two go.”

“What if he’s got this parking lot under surveillance right now?” Antonia said. “He might know we’ve found the trackers, and are choosing to leave them in place.”

Lukas smiled grimly. “Let him wonder why.”

A feint within a feint within a feint. All this surveillance and counter-surveillance crap was exhausting, especially on only one cup of coffee.

“Chico, can you let Jenny know she should sweep her car? And Rafe, I’d like to double-check the security at your place.”

He nodded at Lukas. His building’s walls were made of brick, but that didn’t mean the place was impervious. Yeah, it had to be done, especially if he and Bailey were going to spend time together there. Hours and hours of time together.

Anticipation welled like a Yellowstone geyser.

Bailey stood. “Are we done here? I need to touch base with Cheyenne.”

“Go on,” Lukas responded. “Jack, Chico and I will—”

Her mini chimed. She quickly plucked it off the table and read. “Crap. Another Denial of Service attack at Sebastiani Labs. Gotta go.” She left without saying goodbye.

Before they could make plans.

“Damn it.” Lukas exchanged a worried glance with Jack.

“Damn it is right,” Rafe bit out. “She’s exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Lukas agreed. “Thanks for making time for this, Rafe. I honestly think it’s the fastest way to bring this to a head. Bailey’s running on empty, so I’d prefer to work quickly.”

He nodded. Apparently his brother had a better awareness of Bailey’s limits than he’d thought.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” Lukas asked as he rose from his chair. “My office?”

“Yeah.” Lukas left, but Rafe grabbed another cup of coffee before he followed. If Lukas thought he’d be dictating how this ‘wine, dine, date’ thing would work, he had another think coming.

Lukas might have put him on the chessboard, but now his brother had to step back and give him room to move.

––––––––

C
heyenne and her team shut down the denial of service attack almost as quickly as it started. Rather than go back to the meeting, Bailey slipped into Jack’s elegant office, closing the door behind her.

The space smelled like him. Jack may have moved from the California coast to landlocked Minnesota to accept Lukas’s job offer, but his cologne carried the scent of the ocean. After another quick glance back at the door, she hurried to the framed photograph hanging on the wall separating his office from Lukas’s—a picture of Mavericks, the legendary northern California surf break, on a calm day. Most visitors to Jack’s office, upon seeing the print, commented on the beauty of the placid, navy blue water, but had no clue that when the right, rare conditions arose, the water heaved itself six stories into the sky, maiming and killing with its snapping jaws. Bailey had always found the picture very telling.

Standing on tippy-toes, she patted the top of the narrow black picture frame and snatched the key to Jack’s locked desk drawer. Scurrying back to the huge slab of desk, she knelt on the floor behind it. No one walking down the hall could see her through the narrow slice of window if they happened to glance in.

What she was doing wasn’t wrong, exactly, but she didn’t want to try to explain to Jack, or anyone else, why she was helping herself to a healthy supply of his pheromone intoxication meds.

The cool metal desk key seemed to burn her fingers as she slid it into the slot on the lower right drawer, opening it. Ruthlessly organized, with no clutter—not a paper clip or battery dared stray out of its assigned space—she quickly found the airtight storage container, picked it up, and peeled off the cover. And there were the pills, innocuous white tablets with a slight yellow cast, stored twenty tablets per tiny Ziploc bag. Though the experimental drug had been developed by Sebastiani Labs to help humans resist the effect of incubi and succubi pheromones, Jack was currently the only person who used them. Until a year ago, when she’d been brought into the fold, Jack had been the only human alive who knew that humanity shared their planet with species of extra-planetary origin. As a voting member of the Underworld Council, and managing partner and public face of Sebastiani Security, it was important that Jack’s judgment be unimpaired by the pheromones that incubi and succubi emitted as naturally as they breathed.

She pursed her lips as she peered at one of the tiny sealed bags. How much of the drug did Jack take, and how often? She’d taken a tablet on one previous occasion, the night of Scarlett Fontaine’s homecoming show at Underbelly last year. In all the scurry and flurry of that day—learning that First Contact had occurred millennia ago, that no one at Sebastiani Security except Jack was human, and that they needed her to pitch in on an undercover security op because Scarlett was in danger—no one had remembered that she’d be as susceptible to incubi and succubi pheromones as Jack would be. By the time Rafe had gotten her up to Sasha’s office, she’d been well under the influence, but the tablet he’d slipped under her tongue had worked very quickly. She’d known
exactly
what she was doing when she’d wound her arms and legs around him, pressing tiny, biting kisses into the open v-neck of his crisp button-down shirt. Licking his delicious skin.