Читать книгу Delta Force Defender - Carol Ericson - Страница 12
ОглавлениеMartha swallowed. Her gaze darted from Cam’s blue eyes to the blue eye on her laptop. She snapped shut the computer. “How do you know that?”
“Shutting it solves the problem right this second, but that Trojan’s gonna have to be removed from your computer as soon as possible. It’s not just computer keystrokes and actions. The person on the other side can see you as long as your laptop is open and powered on.”
“Oh my God.” She covered her mouth. “I wonder how long this has been going on.”
“A tech can probably tell you that by looking at the program. It’ll have a date on it.”
“But how did you know? How did you know where to look?” The veil of her preconceived notions about Cam Sutton lifted—and she liked what she saw even more. Brawn and brains.
“About a year ago, my sister was being stalked.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It became apparent that her stalker was watching her in her private moments. One of her friends, a real computer geek, came over to inspect her computer. First she watched for the blinking LED, and then she did a search for a common Trojan used to infect the computer and allowing an outside source to gain control of it. I looked for and found that same virus on your laptop.”
Martha’s mind raced and reeled over the times she’d had her laptop open in her bedroom, not bothering to shut it down. She hugged herself, digging her fingers into her upper arms. “Get it off. Can you get it off?”
“I can delete it. Hell, you can delete it, but I don’t know if that removes it from everywhere. It’s probably best if you take the laptop in or call someone to do it.” Cam tapped his chin with his index finger. “I wonder if they could hear us, too.”
“At least we were spared that. The microphone on my laptop doesn’t work. No sound in. No sound out.”
“That’s an unexpected bonus.” He hunched forward, digging his elbows into his knees. “Whoever was watching you saw me, but at least that person won’t know who I am and how I’m connected to Denver.”
She handed him the glass and pushed at his solid shoulder. “Put that in the sink or get yourself more. I’m going to open this up and delete that program. Then I’ll take my computer in and get the virus removed from everywhere else.”
Glass in hand, Cam pushed up from the sofa while Martha flipped open the laptop, keeping her thumb over the camera lens. She gasped and nearly drove her finger through her computer as a parade of skulls and crossbones marched across her display, the word busted floating between the grinning teeth.
Cam clinked the glass on the countertop. “What’s wrong?”
“Come and look at this. He knows I...you discovered the commandeered camera. He’s admitting he’s busted.”
“Son of a gun.” Cam hovered over her shoulder. “Cheeky bastard.”
“I wish I could just communicate with him and ask him what he wants. Oh.” Martha put her fingers to her lips as her email icon blinked, indicating a new message. “Maybe I can.”
“If you open that email, don’t click on any links. That’s how your computer gets infected. He might be trying to load something even more insidious on your laptop.”
“More insidious than a program to take over my camera to spy on me? That would be hard.”
“Hold on.” He backtracked to the kitchen. “Do you have any masking tape in here?”
“Post-its in the drawer to the right of the dishwasher.”
He returned with two pink Post-it notes stuck to his fingertips. He slid a finger beneath the pad of her thumb, covering the eye of the camera with one Post-it and stuck the other on the edge of the first one to hold it in place.
“Go for it.”
She opened the email and licked her dry lips.
“‘Do you want to...play?’” Cam read the message out loud, which took off its sinister edge and made it sound almost sexy.
Of course, Cam could make anything sound, or look, sexy.
Dragging in a breath, she put her fingers on the keys.
“Wait.” He cinched her wrist with his fingers. “What are you going to write back?”
“I’m going to write ‘Hell, yes.’ What do you think?”
“Shouldn’t you ask him what he means? Ask him what he wants? That’s what he’d expect out of you. If you agree too quickly, he’s going to wonder if he picked the right person for the job.”
His thumb pressed against her pulse. Could he feel it throbbing with excitement? She couldn’t tell if the buzz claiming her body was coming from the email or Cam’s warm touch. Did it matter? The two had mingled in her scattered brain.
Rotating her wrist out of his grasp, she said, “You’re right. I’ll take it slowly.”
She voiced the words as she replied to the email. “‘Play what? What do you want? Who are you?’”
She clicked Send and held her breath.
Her heart stuttered when the quick reply came through. She clicked on the email and read it aloud to Cam. “‘I’m a patriot.’”
Cam snorted and she continued. “‘I’m a patriot. That’s all you need to know. You did the right thing. Leave it alone, or you might not like the game.’”
She whipped her head around to face Cam. “He’s threatening me.”
This time her hands trembled as she held them poised over the keyboard.
Lacing his fingers through hers, Cam pulled her hand away from the computer. “Ask this patriot why he’s so nervous if the information he revealed in the emails about Major Denver is true.”
“Shouldn’t I ask him about his threats? If he’s the one who pushed me at the Metro?” She untwined her fingers from his.
“He’s not going to give you a direct answer or admit that he tried to harm you, but I’m interested to see his lies about why he wants you to stop digging.”
“I haven’t even started digging.” She puffed at a strand of hair that had floated across her face, and Cam caught it and tucked it behind her ear.
“He knows you saved the emails and shared them with me.” He flicked his finger at the Post-its. “And he knows you’re on to him.”
“If you say so.” As long as he kept finding excuses to touch her, she’d do just about anything he asked. She cleared her throat and her mind, and then typed in Cam’s question.
They both jumped when a message showed up in her inbox, but it was an ad for ink cartridges.
“Come on, patriot.” She flexed her fingers over the keys. “I think we scared him off.”
“Or he’s thinking up a good story.” Cam stretched his arms over his head before standing up. “I’m going to get more water. Do you want something from the kitchen?”
“No, thanks.” She wedged the toes of her boots against the coffee table. “We lost him.”
“Do you think my question was too direct?” He called back at her over the running water from the kitchen faucet. “We must’ve hit a nerve. He wants you to stop because he doesn’t want the truth revealed—that the claims in those emails were all bogus.”
Instead of an answer, grinning skulls danced across her screen, giving her the chills. “Ugh. He really is just playing games.”
Cam returned to the living room and hung over the back of the sofa. “Idiot. I don’t think he plans to tell you anything. He does want you to stop snooping though, and he’s trying to scare you off.”
“All the more reason to continue.” She rolled her shoulders in an effort to release the tension bunching her muscles. “Maybe I should turn all this stuff over to the CIA.”
“Martha, you committed a crime by making a copy of those emails. Even if you’re not prosecuted, you’ll lose your job.” He reached past her and closed the lid of her laptop on the skulls. “It’s not worth it. Do you want to wind up in federal prison?”
“No!” She dumped her computer from her lap to the sofa cushion. “You’re right. I’m not telling the CIA a thing.”
He drew back at the violence of her exclamation, but she didn’t have to explain herself as the key turned in the door.
“Casey’s home early.” Her eyes wide, Martha watched the door handle turn and released a sigh when Casey crept into the room on tiptoes.
“Oh, you’re still up...and you’re still here.”
The reason for Casey’s dismay followed her into the room wearing an expensive suit and a sheepish grin. “Sorry to intrude.”
“Join the party.” Cam spread out his arms and then dropped them to his sides as his invitation was met with silence. “Just kidding. We were just wrapping up.”
“Take your time.” Casey circled one finger in the air. “Bob and I will be upstairs. Bob, this is my roommate Martha and her friend Cam.”
They all managed awkward hellos and goodbyes as Casey led Bob up the stairs of the town house.
When she heard the door click above, Martha made a face. “She usually doesn’t bring them home this early. I never have to meet them.”
Cam whistled. “I can see why she doesn’t.”
“Why?”
Jerking his thumb at the ceiling, Cam whispered. “Old Bob up there is Congressman Robert Wentworth from some district down in Florida.”
“What? Are you serious? How do you know that?”
“He’s on the House Intelligence Committee—and he’s married, as far as I remember.”
“That makes it doubly worse that they’re up there...” She waved a hand toward the staircase and heated up to the roots of her hair. “Why do women go for these married men?”
Martha flicked a glance at Cam’s bare left ring finger and let out a little breath. Of course, lots of men didn’t wear wedding rings.
“Imprudent of him at the very least.” Cam leaned forward and lifted the laptop lid. “Still no communication from the patriot, so I’m going to head back to my hotel. Are you going to be okay?”
“I will be once I power down my computer and stick it in the office tonight.”
“How many rooms does this place have?” He raised his eyes to the ceiling.
“Just three bedrooms. I could sublet the other room, but I’d probably go crazy with another roommate.” She tucked the laptop under her arm. “Should I...should I call you tomorrow or something?”
“I’ll go with you to cleanse your computer. Is that okay?”
More than okay. “Sure.”
Cam strode to the kitchen and ripped a Post-it from the pad. He scribbled something on the pink square and then stuck it to the edge of the counter. “My number. Call me when you’re ready to roll.”
He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and hunched into it. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to lock your door.”
“Nope. I’ve got that one down. Besides, I have a US congressman upstairs for protection.”
“All right, then.” Cam stood in the entryway and thrust his hand forward for a shake. “Take care and thanks for trusting me.”
She tucked her laptop against her side and took his hand in a firm grip—no nonsense. “Thanks for...rescuing me on the platform and discovering I’d been hacked.”
They both released at the same time, and Cam saluted. “All right, then. See ya later.”
Martha shut the door behind him and then rested her back against it, hugging her computer to her chest. Had Cam been nervous? Maybe he thought she’d expected a hug or a kiss or something. Did she appear that desperate?
She spun around and threw the locks into place and then launched herself up the stairs. Cam probably hadn’t given her much thought at all.
Martha crept past Casey’s bedroom door and the low voices murmuring within, and slipped into her own room. At least her master bedroom had a bathroom attached.
Tripping to a stop, she glanced at the laptop in her hands. She didn’t want to go into the hallway again, so she made an abrupt turn and stuffed the computer on the floor of her closet under some folded clothes.
She got ready for bed. Several minutes later as she slipped between the covers, her mind was still racing with the day’s events.
Casey squealed from somewhere beyond the walls, and Martha burrowed beneath the covers. Her roommate and her lovers always made a lot of noise.
Martha reached into the top drawer of her nightstand for her earplugs and cupped them in her hand as the congressman let out a growl.
Shutting her eyes, Martha closed her fingers around the earplugs. What would Cam sound like in the throes of passion?
Casey yelped, and Martha stuffed the earplugs into her ears as she buried her face in the pillow. One thing she did know is that she wouldn’t be squeaking and squealing like Casey if she ever did get a chance with Cam.
And with that delicious thought making her shiver, Martha closed her eyes.
What seemed like moments later, Casey’s scream punctured Martha’s dream state...and her earplugs. She groaned and rolled onto her side.
Didn’t the woman have any shame—or self-control?
Casey screamed again, and Martha pulled the pillow over her head, gritting her teeth.
“Martha! Martha!”
The bedroom door burst open, and Martha sat up, the pillow falling from her face. She blinked her eyes at Casey standing in the doorway, a filmy nightgown clutched to her chest. Was she dreaming?
“Martha, wake up. We’re in terrible trouble.”
“What?” Martha flicked on the light above her bed, and Casey’s face looked whiter than it had in the darkness. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Oh, Martha.” Casey stumbled across the room and tottered before she dropped to the edge of Martha’s bed. “Bob, Congressman Wentworth, is dead in my bed...in your town house.”
