* * *
It was supposed to be a virtue for a guy to know his limits. Dozens of quotes all over the internet said a wise man knew when to quit. The only problem was, knowing it didn’t do a guy a damned bit of good if he couldn’t do anything about it. Ryan lasted a week in the office before he hit a wall. That week was marked by several needling IMs to Caleb, a stern lecture from Celia, and a trend of increasingly loud, angry music blaring from his speakers.
In the end, it was a complaint to HR about the pasty, sleep-deprived, emo-looking programmer blaring German heavy metal in his office and disrupting their Zen that earned him a ticket out the door. He was sent on mandatory leave of absence until he got his shit together and started eating actual food. Oh, and he was supposed to call in to the company counselor every day to give him a report on how many hours he’d slept. Apparently, having your circadian cycle jacked up was a big deal for the psyche, or some crap like that.
Truth be told, Ryan barely noticed the signs of sleep deprivation anymore. He zoned out a lot. His mind wandered too, but whose didn’t? There was that little issue with not being able to concentrate, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose. Working himself to the bone on a system that had disintegrated into a handful of random zeros and ones in the blink of any eye, putting an innocent woman in a life-threatening situation she wasn’t aware of, had kind of screwed him up a little. Ryan went to bed every night at ten sharp. Lights off, phone on silent, computers powered down.
And he lay there, staring at the ceiling for five hours before he gave up trying to sleep and started playing chess with some teenagers in Japan.
He’d tried everything—nature sounds, warm milk, counting sheep, even pharmaceuticals. He’d taken up jogging to clear his head, but even when he’d run so far he barely dragged his feet back home, Ryan only managed to sleep about an hour at a time, if that.
Every time he closed his eyes, paranoia kicked in, and he jerked himself awake, expecting men in suits to bust down his door and duct tape a black hood over his head. Worse, was when he dreamed about them doing it to Victoria.
No one would tell him anything about her. Celia’s standard response might as well have been an automated message. “Our legal team is putting together a response to Miss Marlow’s subpoena. Everything’s under control. Stop asking me.” In her defense, she displayed a lot more patience than he would have in her place.
It still didn’t help matters on his end. Ryan had gotten used to hearing Victoria’s voice, watching her cook dinner, or read a book. He’d even come to appreciate the sound of her singing Bohemian Rhapsody, loudly and off-key. In her absence, his life had become unnervingly quiet. Even Taylor didn’t come by to annoy him anymore. They’d been forced to sign a gag order which prohibited them from discussing the Marlow account with anyone, including each other, but that didn’t mean they had to stop hanging out.
Damn it, it was too quiet! Nine p.m. on Friday. One hour left before he had to go to bed and do that pretend sleep thing again. He couldn’t stand this.
Desperate for something to distract him, he sat down at the work computer he hadn’t turned on in two weeks, tapping his foot while it took its sweet time booting up. When it did, his heel slammed down on the floor and stuck there.
The automatic uplink he’d created to Victoria’s house when he started working from home was still active. Independent of the company server, his computer hadn’t been affected by Sheffield’s worm.
“Holy shit.”
He had a window into the system! No video or audio, but the status readouts were streaming across like mad. Most everything he’d missed since the office server went down, up to and including today’s weather update.
And then, out of nowhere, a notification popped up on screen: MASTER ACCESS GRANTED. FRONT DOOR OPEN. ALARM DISENGAGED. It was time-stamped two hours ago.
Frowning, he tried to pull up the security feed, before he remembered he no longer had access. He picked up the phone and dialed Taylor.
“Yo.”
“T-dog, it’s Ryan.”
“I know. I’ve got caller ID, dumbass. What’s up? You still alive?”
“Yeah, listen, can you get access to the Marlow security feeds?”
Pause. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you about this. They could be listening, you know.”
Ryan’s eye twitched. “I have a problem.”
“That’s for damn sure. But I can’t help you there, brother.”
“Taylor, this is serious. Someone used the master code to get into Victoria’s house.”
“And you know this, how?”
“The voices in my head told me so,” he retorted.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that,” Taylor said.
In the background, Ryan heard Madi ask who he was talking to. Taylor muted his phone, making Ryan want to smash something, but when Taylor came back, his voice echoed. He was in the bathroom. “Are you okay, man?” He sounded worried.
Ryan gritted his teeth. “I’m not crazy, okay? Just get me the feed. Something’s wrong.”
“Because Victoria used the master key?”
“Why the hell would she use the master key in her own house? Besides, didn’t Celia say she moved out?” His gut told him something was very wrong, and it killed him that he couldn’t check on it himself. “You gotta check the feeds for me.”
“I dunno man, what we did before was bad enough, but this…this is instant jail time, and I don’t mean the cushy resorts they send crooked accountants to, either. You really want to get on you-know-who’s bad side like that?”
Ryan balled his hands into fists. “I have to. The house alarm won’t trigger unless it’s an unauthorized access. We have a moral obligation here. What if someone gets hurt?”
“All right, all right, damn it.” Taylor blew a raspberry into the receiver. “Gimme a minute to get through the firewalls.”
There was a pause while Taylor worked his magic. He was about ready to jump out of his skin while the guy whistled the Mission Impossible theme song to himself on the other line.
“You in yet?” he growled.
“Patience, Obi Wan.”
Ryan shoved to his feet and paced the living room.
“There.”
Ryan lunged back to his desk. “Can you patch me through?”
“No, I only have lookie-loo access.”
Shit. “What do you see?”
“Outside clear, living room empty, all security systems opera-tio-nal…” Taylor’s voice trailed off, and cold dread sank heavy into Ryan’s stomach.
“What?”
“Christ, Ryan, it’s him. It’s Masterson. He’s in the kitchen, cooking something.”
Ryan slammed the phone down and snatched up his headset. A pre-programmed icon on his computer dialed him into the police precinct closest to Victoria’s house.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
“Code 3, code 3. I’ve got an 11-57 at 2279 Willow Way. Caucasian male, alias Liam Masterson. Suspect in multiple homicides, possibly armed and dangerous. He is inside the house, I repeat, the perp is inside the house.”
“Sending response units. Sir, are you in the area now? Do you have a visual on the suspect?”
“My name is Ryan George, I am an engineer with Hearth Global. We are monitoring Miss Marlow’s smart house security.”
“Is there a burglary in progress?”
“No, just get there already!”
“Response units are ten minutes out—”
“Ten minutes? Jesus, I can get a pizza faster than that!”
“Sir, I need you to calm down and talk to me. Was the house alarm triggered?”
“It was disabled. The perp has history with the owner.”
His Skype program blooped with a screen share request and new instant message from Taylor: GF IN DRIVEWAY. SYSTEM LOCKED DOWN. PLAN?
Ryan went cold. A lockdown meant no one could access the house
remotely. It meant neither he, nor Taylor, nor anyone at Hearth could do anything, even if they tried. “Lady, whoever you’ve got on the way, you better tell them to hurry the hell up, because we’re locked out of the system and the owner just got home.”
— Chapter 14 —
“So let me get this straight. You’re claiming that this company has been using your house to spy on you. But you’re still going back there?”
Tori put her car in park and turned off the engine. “I’m not staying long, I just need to pick up a few things.”
There was a heavy silence on the other end as Jessica absorbed the news.
“What? I ran out of clean suits. What am I supposed to do, buy a whole new wardrobe?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you of all people that you’re undermining your own case. You can’t feed the dog with one hand and beat him with the other. It just won’t work, babe.”
Tori rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “I know, I know.” The truth was, as much as it creeped her out to know that an actual person had been living with her for so long, it still felt wrong to take him to court over it. That last warning he’d given her about Liam before her house went on the fritz had given her chills. Tori was very good at her job; she could tell when someone was lying and when they were telling the truth. Something in their voice always gave them away. Ryan—if that was even his real name—had sounded one hundred percent truthful, and one hundred percent alarmed.
It had made her grab for her phone to check the text messages she’d ignored, and right there on the little electronic screen had been evidence of an unnerving lack of boundaries. Not Ryan’s—Liam’s. He’d asked what time he should come over on Friday night—they’d never made a date—what her favorite perfume was, what flavor of dirty movie he should bring. And when she hadn’t answered, the messages had turned more disturbing. Maybe Ryan’s message had made her paranoid, but suddenly hanging around Liam had seemed like a very bad idea.
And instead of thanking Ryan, she’d served him with a subpoena. Because the thought that she’d trusted him, poured her heart out to him, shown him her unguarded underbelly, only to have him stick a knife into it with his lies hurt so much, Tori couldn’t make it go away.
She was an idiot.
The dumbest, most pathetic multi-degreed litigator alive.
She’d actually managed to do what no other had ever been desperate enough to do before—fallen in love with a damned computer program.
In response to her subpoena, Hearth Global had issued a statement, giving her the same beta test spiel Ryan had delivered to explain the discrepancy between what they’d promised and what they’d delivered. Jessica, for her part, had met this with a har-har and, “We’ve got this in the bag,” but Tori wasn’t so sure.
“At least we’ve got them on the retreat, right? When are they delivering the materials?”
Jessica cleared her throat. “They’re not.”
Tori raised her head. “Excuse me?”
“They kind of buried us in patents and copyrights. They’re saying they won’t part with their proprietary assets unless there is solid proof of a crime. We do have that video—”
“No,” Tori said, and she knew it drove Jessica up the wall. It was the only solid piece of evidence they had, and Tori refused to use it. She’d put the recording inside a safety deposit box and hadn’t even looked at it since the day it was recorded. Jessica didn’t know how far Tori had gone to get Ryan to crack. It still made her cringe to think about it. Submitting that video as evidence would only make everything worse for everyone involved. A jury might see her side of things, but they’d also see blatant entrapment, and an embarrassing display by a woman who really should know better. No, the video would never see the light of day.
Jessica breathed a long sigh to calm herself. “But since you won’t give it to me, we’ve got nothing. And until you stop coming back to the scene of the crime so I can tell them you fear for your safety, we won’t be getting any more. If we’re lucky, they might get slapped with a fine, and we’ll be calling that a happy day.”
“What do you want me to do, Jess?”
“Move. On.”
“Fine. I’ll get some things together and start looking for a new permanent living arrangement. Will that make you happy?”
“Thrilled.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
“All right, then.”
“Fantastic.”
Tori chewed her lip. “Love you,” she begrudged at last.
“Love you too, babe. Mwah!”
Tori sighed and hung up.
God, she needed a break from her life. Jessica was right. Tori should have packed up and skipped town for a few weeks. But no. She couldn’t.
Why?
Because there was a pile of cases on her desk as high as she was tall, and the partners refused to let her hire more grunts. They said with all the resources they’d poured into her already, she should damned well be able to manage her workload.
They hadn’t responded kindly when she’d pointed out that her workload had increased in proportion to her added resources.
It was time to move on. New job, new life. New house.
Tori looked over the architectural details on her mansion, and her heart broke a little at the idea of letting it go. This wasn’t just a house; it was her home. She’d consulted on the planning and construction. She’d added personal touches that would not be found anywhere else. She’d picked out the colors, furniture, appliances, even argued with the foreman for a week just so she could get the updated model hot tub in place of the old one, even though they had to demolish half the new bathroom and completely redo the plumbing and electrical to make it work.
Tori smiled a little. Wallace Construction was probably cursing her to this day. But they’d done it. Exactly as she’d asked.
And now she would have to give it all up again.
Damn Ryan.
And damn Hearth Global, too!
Tired, irritated, Tori got out of her car and slammed the door. She fished her key fob out of her purse and went inside. Her usual “Honey, I’m home” greeting stuck in her throat. How could a house make her feel so lonely?
Tori frowned. Was that lamb she smelled?
“Hello?”
“Hey!” a man called from the kitchen, and Tori almost jumped out of her skin. “Welcome home! I hope you’re hungry.”
Heart pounding, she clutched her purse to her chest. “Liam?” Fumbling in her bag for her cell, she edged around the corner.
Liam grinned at her from behind the kitchen counter, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a stained apron tied around his front. “Give me a minute,” he said, totally casual as if there was nothing wrong with him being in her kitchen out of the blue. “The lamb needs one more braise and sear before it’s ready. There’s wine on the table. Help yourself.” Just the air of utter nonchalance he put on made Tori feel like she ought to not be in the same room with him. What the hell was he doing here? How had he gotten in? Hadn’t she denied him access?
A cold fist closed around her throat. Ryan had denied him access, right?
Oh, sweet Jesus, was this some sort of sick revenge for the subpoena?
Talk to him. Stall for time. “Umm…no, thanks. What are you doing here?”
Liam frowned, but that unsettling smile of his never slipped. “I’m surprising my girl with a candlelit dinner. I thought you’d be happy.”
Cameras everywhere. Someone has to be seeing this. But what if they didn’t do anything about it? “How did you get in?” She needed to get back in her car. Now.
“Well,” he said, picking up a huge carving knife, “I was having a drink with this friend of mine the other day, Thom Wallace?” He looked up from slicing the lamb and raised an eyebrow at her as if asking whether she knew the guy. When she shook her head, he shrugged. “His dad owns Wallace Construction. Anyway, seems the company is in some legal trouble over faulty contracts wi
th that smart house place, Hearth Global, and he wanted my help.”
Wallace Construction? Had to be a coincidence. Except, somehow Tori had a bad feeling that it wasn’t.
Liam set aside the knife and wiped his hands. He had a platter of greens already cut up and arranged. With some dramatic maneuvering, he moved the lamb over. “He kept going on and on about how those geeks have no idea how the construction business works, and how they can’t expect their wires not to get crossed when it’s all two-by-fours and state regulations telling the crew what needs to go where…”
Tori backed out into the dining room. He’d set the table; there had to be steak knives.
Better! He’d put another carving knife right in the middle, next to the silver serving platter. Trying not to look too eager, she skimmed her hand over the table, heading right for it.
“Anyway,” Liam continued, turning around to load the baking pan into the dishwasher.
Tori hurried the last few steps to get within easy reach of the knife.
“So he starts telling me that they had to patch up something or other with the software on a bunch of recent constructions, because the boss got a computer virus and lost the server link or some such, and that’s like a huge no-no with the geeks. It would have cost them millions, so instead of fessing up, they’ve been using the one-point-oh version of the operating system.”
Tori froze with her hand poised over the silver platter. What…? What did he say?
“Turns out,” he continued, wiping his hands, “the old version had this security feature that they used when the construction stretched into overtime. See, HG is contract-bound to have the system in place by a certain date no matter what. But if the house isn’t finished by then, the crew needs access to get the job done and make the house livable. It’s basically a master key that lets them in, and they’re supposed to erase it after they’re done.”
Liam brought a large bowl of salad out of the refrigerator and shook a plastic container with dressing.
Tori took a chance and palmed the carving knife, hiding the flat of the blade against her stomach behind her purse. Not a good plan. She’d cut herself if he charged her. She needed to get word out to someone without making him suspicious.
“He gave me a list of their most recent projects, and your name popped up. That didn’t seem right,” he said with a concerned frown. “Someone could use it to get inside your house, you know.”
He looked at her as if he expected a chuckle. Tori forced the corners of her mouth up, but it felt more like a wince than a smile.
Liam didn’t seem to notice, or care. “I thought I’d better tell you right away. I know how you women are always worried about safety this and safety that. But then I thought, why not surprise you? You’ve been working so hard, I haven’t even heard from you in weeks. So here I am, and dinner is almost ready to be served. Do you have the best boyfriend on earth or what?” He tossed the salad and grinned at her, clearly expecting some sort of praise.
Tori’s phone rang in her purse and startled her so much, she fumbled with the knife and dropped it. Thank God for Turkish carpets; Liam didn’t hear it fall.
“Phones off during dinner,” he said in a mock order, trying to be cute, but his tone made her shiver. “Whatever it is, take care of it before I serve.”
Tori attempted a smile. “I’ll take it out in the hall.” She escaped on rubbery legs and fished her phone out. It had stopped ringing by then, but she put it to her ear anyway. “Hello?” She paused for effect. “Hey, Jess, did you forget something?”
Liam carried the platter of lamb out to the table. He was across from the fallen knife and didn’t see it.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yep. No, I’m still home. Liam is cooking me dinner.” Yes! Great idea, let him think someone else knew he was here. “Liam, the attorney I told you about.”
Liam went back for salad and came around the other side of the table. He knocked his shoe against the knife on the floor, frowned, and bent to pick it up.
Oh, shit! “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Vic? What’s this?”
She forced another smile and held up a finger to shush him. “Yeah, I know, I owe you paperwork. I’m a little behind. I’ll get it to you first thing tom—”
The phone rang against her ear.
She froze and turned back in time to see Liam’s face turn hard. “What the hell is going on, Vic?” Knife still in hand, he came around the table.
Without looking at the caller ID, Tori answered the call.
“Dinner’s on the table, Victoria.”
“Hello,” she said frantically, backing away from him. “Help!” she whispered, praying Liam was too far to hear.
“Vic! Turn off the damn phone!”
“Get out of the house,” the caller said.
He didn’t need to tell her twice. Tori made a dash for the front door, with Liam coming right after her.
“Door’s locked,” the caller said, and at the last second, she veered right into the living room. “You’ll have to use the window.”
Liam crashed into the front door. “Victoria!” he roared.
Tori screamed and squeezed between the couch and side table. Her high heel caught and her ankle twisted as she fell, the phone skidding across the hardwood floor. She could still hear the caller shouting her name.
Ryan?
Liam grabbed the back of her jacket and hauled her to her feet. “Look at you,” he said, all solicitous concern, but his face was contracted in fury and his jaw was clenched. “Hunger makes you so clumsy. Maybe you should go eat something.” He shoved her back toward the dining room. The momentum propelled her sideways, and she slammed into the wall, her ankle screaming against the abuse. In the second she had before he grabbed her again, Tori toed off her shoes.
The knife was gone. Where had he put the knife?
“Wait,” he said, forcing her around to face him. “I just remembered I didn’t even get a kiss hello. After all the trouble I went through to make you dinner.” He grabbed her chin, his fingers digging hard into her jaw. “I think I deserve a little thanks, don’t you?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “How’s this?” She grabbed him by the balls and twisted, but her hold was awkward and she didn’t have enough leverage to do real damage.
Liam groaned with equal parts pain and pleasure. “Naughty girl. Foreplay first.”
Tori thrashed. “Get the hell off me!” Her ears were ringing with crazy sirens; it had to be shock, or panic, or something. She kept fighting; struck the side of his head, stomped on his foot—feeble gestures that only pissed him off.
“Ungrateful bitch!”
He hauled her away from the wall and tripped her to the floor. The double impact of falling and having him drop on top of her knocked the breath out of Tori. There was hammering in her ears, so very loud she didn’t understand how she could hear anything else, but she did. She heard Liam talking.
“We were meant to be. I knew it the moment I met you. You’re perfect. And you belong with me. I’ll make you see it. I’ll—”
“Police! Don’t move!”
“Hands in the air!”
“Step away now!”
Tori’s head spun. She couldn’t move with Liam on top of her, but her mind kept racing from one side of her cranium to the other, always tripping over the same thing. The knife.
“Get back! I won’t tell you again!” a policeman ordered.
Without looking, Tori knew they had guns trained on Liam, but he was too close for them to risk a shot, and he knew it. Sadistically, he flattened himself over her and rasped at her ear, “We’ll go together, what do you say?”
“Knife,” she mumbled, with her face half-smooshed into the floor. Oh God, she heard it scraping the floor! “Knife,” she tried again, louder, and then put all her fear into a scream. “He has a knife!”
Shots rang out in rapid succession.
Tori squeezed her eyes shut as the world turned silent. The ringing
in her ears started soft as a whisper, but soon it was all she heard. Voices were distant hums, but she felt the vibration of approaching footsteps against her cheek.
The dead weight shifted and rolled off, and then hands were grabbing at her, pulling her up. Faces swam before her, blurred, spinning. They moved, formed words she couldn’t decipher. When her knees gave out, someone helped her out of the room to the table Liam had set for a feast. They sat her down and put a blanket over her.
“…all right? Ma’am, are you all right?”
And that was when the hysterics set in.
Tori started shaking so hard, she was banging her elbow on the table. Her teeth chattered, and she started hyperventilating and crying at the same time; couldn’t take a deep enough breath to say a full sentence.
More people poured in, and a paramedic knelt in front of her to check her out. Her shaking made his job difficult, but she couldn’t unclench her jaw to apologize. He helped her take off her suit jacket, and pulled up her blouse. It was only then she noticed the blood. And the ache in her side.
“You got lucky,” he said. “It’s just a flesh wound. Can you hold that there for a second?”
She tried, but the gauze fell from her numb fingers. Tori moaned in distress.
“It’s okay, just breathe. You’re gonna be just fine. See?” He taped the cut. “Don’t even need stitches. All good.”
“T-th-thank you,” she said.
The paramedic winked at her. “Turn the heat up, eat some soup, drink lots of fluids, and go to bed early.”
She nodded in jerky movements.
“Ma’am.” A police officer held out her phone. “Someone wants to talk to you.”
Tori reached out and took the phone, clutching it to her face.
“Victoria! Can you hear me?”
She nodded, her chin wobbling too much to speak.
There was a sigh on the other end. “Thank God. Are you hurt?”
Tori shook her head. He wouldn’t know the difference anyway.
“Liar,” he said. “I saw the paramedic patch you up. How bad.”
Tori shrugged. “Not t-too much.” She looked up at the ceiling. There were three cameras in here and two holographic projectors. Why could he see her, but she couldn’t see him?
“Good, that’s good. Now I want you to listen to me. I’ll probably get my ass fired for this, but I don’t care. I called your lawyer cousin for you. She’s on her way. Officer Llewelyn is going to help you go upstairs to pack what you need, and then you’re going to go stay with Jess for a few days, okay? Take the back door. Don’t go past the living room.”
Tori squeezed her eyes shut and imagined he was in the room with her. Standing off in the corner, out of the way, detached from the scene like a ghost. It helped.
“Victoria,” he said softly, “you’re going to be okay, I promise.”
His words sank in slowly, but when they did, they broke her heart.
Tori ended the call and put the phone on the table, ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her cry.
— Chapter 15 —
Knock, knock, knock.
“What was that?” Taylor was still on the phone, keeping tabs on both Victoria’s house and Ryan.
“I’m thinking it’s my ride downtown,” Ryan said. Nice of them to knock instead of breaking down his door. Although he’d expected them a lot sooner than this. Anyway, it made no difference now. Liam Masterson was dead. Damage done.
“Ryan?” That was Madi. “I’m going to call a lawyer.”
“It’s okay, sis. I’ll be fine.” Already the crippling anxiety he’d been feeling the last few weeks was gone. He felt exhausted. If he closed his eyes now, he’d sleep for a month. Let them arrest him. At least in jail, he wouldn’t have to deal with Celia’s freak-out and the fifty smart houses on his roster. It’d be a nice vacation, now that he actually felt like he could take one.
Not a care in the world. Nope, not here.
Ryan smiled. All it took was saving the girl. With a laptop and a working knowledge of internet security.
Take that, Superman.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Mads, put Taylor back on.”
“I can’t, he’s being handcuffed.”
Figured they’d take him as an accomplice. He’d have to send the guy a fruit basket or something. If either of them survived.
Ryan got up and had to brace himself against the desk until the world stopped moving under his feet. In the background on Madi’s end, Taylor was screaming, “Hack the planet! Hack the planet!”
“I hope you realize you married a total geek,” he told Madi on his way to the door.
“Yeah, well, he fits right in with the rest of our family, then.” She sounded remarkably calm for someone whose husband and brother just made the DOD’s shit list. That was his sister. Always keeping her head on straight. Unless Hello Kitty was involved. “I’ll get you guys out, I promise.”
“Love you, sis.” He disconnected the call and opened the door. “Agent Sheffield. Nice to see you again.”
“You look like you’re about to fall over, Mr. George.”
Ryan waved him and the other three suits inside. “Make yourselves at home. The computers are on sale, this week only. Zero percent down, no financing required.” Even as he spoke, Sheffield’s buddies dismantled his work station, cable by cable. They carried everything out, including monitors, tablets, flash drives, SD cards, even the napkins he’d doodled on.
“I must admit, I expected you to put up more of a fight.”
“No need.” He was starting to slur. “Battle’s won. I’m’onna…sit. If you don’ mind.”
“I won’t keep you long,” Sheffield assured him. “I only came by to say I misjudged you. Rest assured, I won’t be making that mistake again.” As the last of his men left, he turned to follow them out, but stopped at the door as if he’d just remembered something else. “By the way, that offer we talked about is back on the table. I’ll be in touch.”
“Sheffield,” Ryan said on a yawn, barely registering his own words anymore, “go fuck yourself.”
— Chapter 16 —
Two weeks later, Ryan put his big boy shorts on and walked in to his day in court.
Well, not exactly court. Select representatives of Hearth Global, which included Ryan, Celia, Taylor and their legal counsel, had been issued a summons to appear at an arbitration to settle the score with Victoria’s house.
Taylor had been released after a night spent at a DOD holding facility, which he was still bragging about to this day. He wouldn’t say anything about what they did to him, except that it was “the coolest thing ever!”
Madi was looking into professional help, though Ryan doubted there was anything that could be done for his demented brother-in-law.
In deference to the serious nature of the arbitration, and the impact it would have on all of them, Ryan, Celia, and Taylor had all been required to take a day-long course on arbitration etiquette with Hawaii Joe to make sure no one put a whoopee cushion on the judge’s chair and embarrassed the company.
The legal guru—who’d never stepped foot on the islands, and whose only claim to his name was his love of pineapple-print neckties and his dream to one day retire on Maui—did have some good pointers for them. Like, don’t be afraid to think before you speak, and no matter how many different ways you have to explain a particular program, try to refrain from calling the judge a Muggle for not understanding code jargon. And under no circumstances speak code in front of them.
Celia and Ryan had passed the test at the end on the first try. Taylor had to repeat.
Now, they all sat in an enormous conference room with a mahogany table and wall projector, waiting for Victoria and her lawyer to show up.
Ryan tugged at the necktie Joe had made him wear. He felt like it was choking off his air supply.
“Will you knock it off?” Celia grated.
Ryan glared at her. “Where’s Wallace? Why doesn’t
he have to be here?”
“Because he’s too busy watching his business implode. Between Masterson’s impromptu testimony and our records, he’s facing bankruptcy and jail time. Not to mention he’ll have a price on his head from every client he’s ever contracted with. Be glad you’re here. It means Ms. Marlow is still open to reasonable negotiations.”
And it seemed the DOD was as well, to whatever extent they were capable of negotiating.
One thing none of them had counted on was Agent Sheffield showing up to bear witness to the proceedings. Having arrived shortly after the rest of them, and introduced himself to the judge by flashing his badge, he now sat off to the side, silently watching everyone squirm.
The bastard had become a specter in Ryan’s life. Wherever he went, Sheffield was there. Whenever he checked his personal email, a blinking icon appeared in his inbox, no doubt some sort of direct link to the DOD. Ryan was pretty sure they’d bugged his phone and had his apartment under surveillance. They thought pressure would make him fold and give them a different answer than he’d already given them a hundred times.
He had no desire to work for those pricks.
Sooner or later, they would take the hint and move on.
Judge Hastings checked her watch. Victoria was only five minutes late, but Hastings looked like the type to hold that against everyone.
Ryan didn’t care anymore. He was just anxious to see Victoria and make sure she was okay.
He hadn’t seen or heard from her since she’d hung up on him the day of the break-in.
Liam Masterson—May he rot in hell—had been pronounced dead at the scene. Naturally, the DOD had stepped in to hush all rumors about the aggressor, but they couldn’t do anything about the media frenzy descending on Victoria and Hearth Global like a plague in the aftermath. Reporters didn’t care who broke in, or why. They were more than happy to toss out some general description of a Caucasian male in his late thirties and leave it at that, as long as they got a front row seat to the biggest techie story of the century: the first crime in history to be stopped by a smart house.
The company was getting so much press, they didn’t know what to do with it.
Ryan was being hailed as a hero for his quick thinking, and Celia was getting hundreds of requests for new constructions worldwide. There was already a three-year waitlist, and they just kept pouring in.
Through all of it, Victoria had been in hiding. There’d been one public statement from Jessica O’Hare that Victoria was safe, but in seclusion to recover in privacy. Then nothing. Until the summons.
Eight minutes late now.
“I’ll give Ms. Marlow another two minutes,” the judge said, “but if she’s doesn’t show…”
The door opened, and Ryan shoved to his feet. The others on his side of the table awkwardly followed suit.
“Your honor,” Jessica said, coming in with an armload of binders. “I apologize for the delay. I had to have a last minute consultation with my client.” She was a short woman with cherubic cheeks and dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her features were pixyish, mischievous, but her expression was no-nonsense.
Judge Hastings looked out the door Jessica had left open. “And where is your client?”
“Miss Marlow elected not to appear at today’s proceedings. And her presence will not be necessary.”
“Is that so?” Hastings retorted.
“Is she okay?” Ryan asked.
Joe cleared his throat and kicked Ryan in the shin, while from his other side, Celia shoved him down to sit.
“She’s fine,” Jessica said kindly. “Well, not fine, but, you know. Not worse.” She handed each of them one of the binders. “She has decided to withdraw all charges against Hearth Global and not to pursue her complaints through further legal measures, under the condition that her house be scrubbed of all wiring and computronics, and refurbished at cost to Hearth Global. She will already be incurring a loss with the sale, so the refinishing materials must be value-similar or better.”
Celia frowned. “She wants us to rebuild her house?”
“She’s selling?” Ryan asked, taken aback.
Joe kicked him again. “Shut up,” he grated out of the corner of his mouth.
“Wouldn’t you?” Jessica told him in answer before she addressed the others. “To the effect of the arrangement I have just described, you have each been given a binder which contains precise instructions and a list of approved materials.”
“The record shall so reflect,” Judge Hastings said, looking over the contents of the binder.
“And if we refuse?” Celia challenged.
“The terms are non-negotiable. In the event that you do not abide by them, Miss Marlow is prepared to prosecute to the full extent of the law on charges outlined in section 15.a of the binder.”
Hawaii Joe immediately leafed through to that section and read the charges to himself, his frown deepening with each new line. “This is ridiculous!”
“We have concrete evidence and testimonies for each and every one.”
“And each and every one of them was instrumental in saving Miss Marlow’s life!”
“Which is completely irrelevant to the case,” Jessica replied without missing a beat.
“You have to know there isn’t a jury on earth who will ever convict on these grounds, not with all the media attention.”
Jessica inclined her head. “They will, when they hear that Hearth Global had knowingly employed and overseen a construction company that—”
“That’s a lie!” Celia burst out before the accusation was even complete.
“Is it? The results of your internal audit will be subpoenaed. Don’t tell me there won’t be records of every single communication between Hearth Global and Wallace Construction, up to and including the use of an outdated operating system which had well-documented security flaws, because that would carry a heavy odor of a cover-up. You want to add perjury to your charges?”
“Our audits,” Celia said, her voice shaking with fury, “will show that—”
“Let me handle this,” Joe cut in.
“We accept,” Ryan said.
Joe gaped at him.
Taylor landed a facepalm, and Celia looked ready to murder him.
Ryan didn’t care. “Miss Marlow is absolutely justified in her concerns, and her demands are far from unreasonable.”
“What my client is trying to say is, we’d like a few minutes to consider your proposal.”
Judge Hastings looked at Jessica, who nodded. She huffed, checked her watch again and said, “You have fifteen minutes. Make your decision, I want to be out of here by lunchtime. Miss O’Hare, why don’t you come with me? I’m sure we can find some things to discuss in the meantime.”
To her credit, Jessica didn’t flinch, and followed the judge to her chambers.
As soon as the door closed, Celia turned to Joe. “What are we doing here?”
Taylor raised his hand. “Uh, dudes,” he said, casting a pointed look at Sheffield, “not that my opinion matters or anything, but I kind of think we should just agree and get it done.”
“I agree,” Joe said.
While they all discussed Victoria’s demands and put together their own, Ryan removed himself to the window. She would be somewhere close. The woman was a world-class lawyer; she wouldn’t want to miss a second of her own arbitration. Why hadn’t she come in? Was it because of him?
“It looks like matters are wrapping up nicely,” Sheffield said, coming to stand beside him. His gaze was on the skyline, as if he wanted to pretend they weren’t talking. “Things are looking up for your Miss Marlow.”
“You knew about Masterson,” Ryan said.
“I was one of his handlers,” Sheffield admitted. “I suppose now that it’s all said and done, there’s no more harm in telling you. Masterson might have had his…flaws, but he supplied us with a lot of information we wouldn’t have had otherwise. As an asset, he was invaluable.”
“I
nformation.” Ryan scoffed. “I hope it was worth lives.”
Sheffield inclined his head. “Thousands,” he said. “Maybe millions. But you won’t hear about any of them on the news. The fact is, we all have to make tough choices in this business of war. Sometimes it’s worth it to sacrifice one life to save a nation.”
Ryan balled his hands into fists. Intellectually, he understood what Sheffield was saying. Viscerally, he had an uncontrollable urge to beat the bastard to a pulp.
“But that’s just what I’m required to tell you,” Sheffield said briskly, straightening his coat. “Off the record? The son of a bitch got what he deserved.”
Startled by the harsh confession, Ryan looked the man in the eye. The DOD had to have been watching everything. There was no way they wouldn’t have known what Liam had been up to. They’d chosen not to step in. They’d also chosen to let Ryan call the cops on his ass, knowing it might all come to this. “You used me,” he accused. “You couldn’t get rid of him yourself, so you dumped him on me.”
“Yes,” Sheffield said without a hint of remorse.
Ryan shook his head. “I want you out of my life. I’m never going to work for you.”
Sheffield nodded. “I was afraid you’d say that. I guess this is good bye, then.” He offered his hand.
Ryan didn’t take it.
Sheffield smiled and, with an incline of his head, walked out of Ryan’s life. Hopefully for good this time.
“…get a gag order, build the house, and forget this ever happened,” Joe was saying.
“Then it’s settled,” Taylor replied with a relieved sigh. He’d noticed Sheffield leave and raised an eyebrow at Ryan.
Ryan gave him a subtle thumbs-up, and Taylor looked heavenward in thanks.
“If we can get her to sign the gag order,” Celia said gravely. The discussion wasn’t over yet.