Читать книгу Her Dark Web Defender - Dana Nussio - Страница 17

With his curtains drawn and office door locked, he dropped into the leather executive chair behind his mahogany desk. Usually that gleaming piece of furniture and the built-in shelves with all his favorite books would have soothed his frustrations, even after a long week at his day job. He might even have smiled at the degrees on the wall and the framed photos on his desk—one a family portrait and the other of him in uniform.

But not today. No, nothing could tamp down his irritation as he attached the cable for his external hard drive to his second laptop, kept just for business purposes. It was all he could do not to slam his hands on the keyboard while using the keys and touchpad to reach the even more secretive back door of his already well-hidden website.

He couldn’t alert his dear wife to his problems, either. She’d done a fine job of avoiding asking questions for years and had graciously accepted the baubles he’d showered her with as rewards. No sense in crippling a smoothly working system.

With a few more expert keystrokes, he landed on a page showing recent transactions from his Soleil Enterprises customers, all paid for using the cryptocurrency Bitcoin for anonymity. He loosened his tie, smiling at the second-quarter sales figures. Those had already tripled since the same time period a year before.

It was a beautiful business model, providing a wide variety of goods and services for his clients’ proclivities and peccadilloes, all at prices they were willing to stretch to afford. He didn’t even know why it was called the “Dark Web,” when it spelled a brighter future for the secret bank accounts of people like him.

Except that his sunny days might have been clouded recently with a bucket of blood.

He fisted one hand and squeezed it so hard with the other that all his fingers ached. If only it could have been the guy’s neck. Of course, he wasn’t certain that it was one of his customers who had crossed the line and murdered those girls. It could have been anyone. But the crushed tiara, part of the secret crime scene information that a loose-lipped peace officer had shared with him, had made him wonder.

Tiaras. Princesses. The sinking feeling in his gut told him it was a possibility. He shouldn’t have taken a chance on that guy. But greed could trap anyone in its grasp, just as an online supermarket for dark desires kept his clients coming back. Maybe he’d been caught this time.

“If it’s you, you’re done,” he whispered to the monitor.

Leaving his own site, he navigated to a few others that the local FBI task force regularly monitored. Again, it was information he shouldn’t have had but did.

He couldn’t casually observe the task force’s activities any longer. Everyone was searching for answers. He had to find them first.

He closed the Dark Web browser, launched another on the Surface Web and selected a chat room website that was among his customers’ favorites.

Though he rarely joined in on the conversations, he started a dialogue box for his screen name.

MR. SUNSHINE: Today’s been hell. Who agrees with me?

A knock at his office door interrupted him just as responses poured in.

“I’m headed up to bed,” his wife said from outside. “Will you be working long?”

“You go ahead. I have a little more to do.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Sweet dreams.”

He wouldn’t be able to sleep now if he tried, so he continued to lurk, waiting to see who was playing that night.

He’d worked too hard to build his empire, too hard to protect it. No one would be allowed to expose it or him. Not a customer who’d taken his fun too far. Not a task force that could uncover a connection during its investigation.

Would he kill to preserve this good thing he had? In a minute.

Tony braced himself as he pushed open the office door, but all seemed quiet inside. Although a few of the early risers were milling about, most knew better than to seek his input before his second cup of coffee.

Instead of going to fill his cup, he crossed to his cubicle. It wasn’t his fault he had to pass hers to get there. He was more relieved than he cared to admit that she wasn’t at her desk. Though he planned to make nice with her today, it was too early to start.

But as Tony rounded the corner to his desk, the source of his agitation and lack of sleep sat waiting for him in his chair. Out of uniform, she looked different. Brown slacks, feminine cream blouse buttoned almost to the collar and sensible, low-heeled shoes. She could have traded places with any female FBI agent he knew. So how did she manage to make even that outfit look sexy?

“I didn’t think you’d ever get here.” She crossed her arms and settled back into the chair.

“What are you talking about?” He checked his watch. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. “Mind giving me my seat?”

He rested his briefcase next to his desk. Though she met his gaze steadily, she gave her nervousness away by tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. If only that hadn’t drawn his attention back to her hair, tied up the same way she’d worn it the day before. It was looser though, softer, as if she’d been less determined with a can of hairspray this time.

“I thought we could have a chat first.”

His jaw tightened, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t let her get to him today, so he dropped in the guest chair at his own desk. All of this without coffee.

“So, what’s up?”

“What’s up is whatever’s going on between us has to stop.”

Tony blinked. He couldn’t help it. He was usually better at hiding his reactions than that, but he’d done a lousy job of it ever since she’d arrived. “Excuse me?”

“Special Agent Dawson told me to figure out what the problem is that you have with me, so we can find a way to work together.”

“He said that?” he asked instead of answering a question.

He shot a glance toward Dawson’s cubicle, nearer to the office door, but he really couldn’t see it through the maze of temporary walls. Leave it to him to piss off the one person who could delay his transfer even longer.

“Well, not in so many words.”

She was staring at her folded hands now, using one thumb to snap away from the other the way she would flick a lighter. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“Then with what words specifically?”

She stared back at him in what felt like a standoff and then lowered her gaze again.

“He said we need to work together.”

“And when did he say that?” Come to think of it, had he passed Dawson’s umbrella near the front door on his way in? He always had it with him, just in case.

“Yesterday.”

“You mean before we had our practice session?”

This time, she didn’t answer his question.

“Anyway, I know you don’t want me here. I didn’t ask to be assigned to this task force, either. But now that I have been, I am determined to help track down this suspect and help make connections to any other cases, if they exist. I’ll do my job. You do yours.”

“Okay.”

“You act like you know me, but you know nothing about me. And if you want to get rid of me, the fastest way to do that would be to close this case.”

What didn’t he know about her? The question struck him, though he had no business wondering or even the right to ask. But she’d brought it up. He had to give her credit for her moxie. Kelly was stronger than she looked, and she hadn’t appeared all that frail in the first place.

As Kelly tightened her arms across her chest, Tony tried not to notice how this gave her an extra lift that she didn’t need and one that wasn’t in his best interest to see.

“That’s fair.”

Tony was relieved that his words came out as something more than squeaks. He wasn’t a seventh grader. He was a grown-ass man, and he needed to start acting like it.

“Okay, then.”

He could have let it go at that. She’d made it easy for him to avoid answering any questions, but he couldn’t accept the gift. Besides, he wanted to close this case as much as she did. Like she kept saying, it was personal to him, too.

“About yesterday, I was just having a bad day. Can we start over?” He stood and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Special Agent Anthony Lazzaro. Tony, for short.”

She stared at his hand instead of lifting hers. He couldn’t blame her. He’d made a point of not greeting her properly the day before. Still, she reached out and gripped his hand.

“Trooper Kelly Roberts. Good to meet you, sir.”

Her handshake was firm, professional and a mistake, he guessed from his tingling palm as he pulled away. He couldn’t worry about that now. He’d told himself he would focus on the case, and he planned to keep that promise.

“Well, if I’m going to get started on my job, I will need my seat back.”

Cory’s cell phone buzzed again as it had been all morning. He’d silenced the ringer and turned it face down on his desk so he couldn’t see the display, but it had continued to buzz about every thirty minutes. Mom never gave up when she wanted something. He was like her in that way.

At first, he’d been too focused on the messages scrolling up his laptop monitor to pay much attention to his phone, but the sound was distracting him now. The chat rooms weren’t much fun today, anyway. Just screen names he’d seen before, seeming to talk to themselves or each other. No titillating flirtations. No potential Cinderella or Snow White or even a beautiful Princess Aurora from Sleeping Beauty.

He couldn’t ignore his mother forever. She might turn off the Internet. He couldn’t risk that. When the phone buzzed again, he answered.

“What is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I saw that you called a few times.”

“If you saw, then why didn’t you pick it up? It’s not like you have anything better to do. Like go to work.”

Cory straightened in his chair just as he would have if she were in the same room instead of in Boca Raton. At least she hadn’t video-dialed in this time. He hadn’t showered in a day or two. Or three.

He switched to his best cajoling tone. It had always worked before. “Come on, Mom. I told you that job wasn’t a good fit for me. Grocery-cart collector? I hated it. I’ll find something better. Soon.”

“You’re right you’d better. And I don’t care if you like it. Why do you think ‘work’ is a four-letter word? In fact, I’ve been considering tapering off my financial support. Clearly, it isn’t helping you to get on your feet.”

His chest tightened. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned.

“Please, I promise I’ll find something. And I’ll keep it this time.”

“You said that last time. And the time before that.”

His hands fisted, but he forced his fingers to loosen and flattened his palms on the desk. He couldn’t afford to lose his cool. Not now. This was too important.

“If you could support me for once.”

“I’ve supported you, all right, in more ways—”

“Or believe me,” he interrupted.

At that, she stopped. But his pulse pounded as it always did when he even thought of the forbidden topic.

For a long time, a dropped-call kind of silence filled the line. He might have gone too far in dredging up the past, but she’d pushed him, too. It was her fault.

“You know I believe you.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. They both knew she hadn’t always believed him. When it counted.

“One month.”

“What?” He at least had to sound like he didn’t understand what she was saying, though optimism broke through the shroud draping his thoughts. He’d won for now. But at what cost? The darkness was peeking out again. He would have to bury it before it consumed him.

“You have thirty days to get a job you plan to keep and begin taking over some of your bills.”

“Sounds okay, I guess.”

“That’s my last offer.”

His mother, who’d spent the morning trying to get in touch with him, seemed anxious to get off the phone. He was in a hurry himself. Before, he hadn’t taken his search seriously. Now he had a deadline.

One month to plan, to woo her, to win her hand. It was terrifying yet exhilarating. The timing wasn’t optimal, he decided, as he chose from among his favorite chat rooms. He would have to search more diligently just when he needed to keep a low profile because of the incident. But he would be careful. So careful.

He would find her, too. She would be perfect. And young. And his. Then he and his princess could disappear together forever.