Wire (Pierce Securities Book 2) Page 7

  Looking at The Crimson Lady code, hitting brick wall after brick wall, wasn’t helping any. She didn’t want to let go.

  The site was another thing altogether. He decided he needed to look at it closely. But first, he needed to splash some water on his face and grab a cup of coffee.

  He stood with a sigh and walked out of his office, carefully locking his door behind him. Gene swiveled in his desk chair and smiled at him.

  “Anything I can get you?”

  “No, I just need to walk around a bit. Stretch my legs.”

  Turning toward the men’s room on the end of the common room where Paige’s office was, Evan saw Neil Koen walk out of her office. When he looked up, his eyes collided with Evan’s and he flashed a cat-who-ate-the-cream smile that churned Evan’s gut.

  He ignored the look, focusing instead on the wall behind Neil, walking steadily toward him to the men’s room on the other side.

  Nodding, he moved to pass the man, but Neil purposefully jostled him out of the way.

  Quelling the insane desire to smash the man’s face in, he said, “Excuse me.” It didn’t sound polite to his own ears, spoken through gritted teeth, but at least he’d controlled the urge to pummel the man.

  The weird smile turned to a smirk, and Neil said, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Neil. You must be the infamous Evan Rocco.” Hand held out, Evan took it warily. Neil’s words said one thing, but the hard edge to his eyes spoke volumes of something else. Evan’s gut told him this man was malicious, but whether it was purely jealousy over Paige or something far worse was beyond him at this point.

  As they clasped hands, Evan realized it was a pissing contest, which he would win. Neil obviously worked out, but not nearly as much as Evan. They both squeezed until their knuckles were white, but Evan smiled while Neil grimaced.

  Still crushing his hand, Evan replied, “Hardly infamous, but yes, I’m Evan Rocco.” Evan noticed faint scarring around the edges of the man’s face. He looked like the type for a face-lift, with his designer suit and expensive shoes. Evan didn’t trust this guy and wondered exactly how close he and Paige were.

  “Are you here for business or pleasure?” He nodded toward Paige’s office, needing to know if she was more involved with this pussy than she’d let on.

  “Definitely pleasure.” Snarling now, Koen had loosened his grip, but Evan gave it one final squeeze which brought a whimper from Neil before letting go.

  “I’ll leave you to it then.” He forced an affable smile on his face before walking away to the men’s room.

  “You’re not getting her in the sack again, Rocco,” Koen’s parting shot was a shouted whisper, which Evan hoped wasn’t loud enough for others to hear. His step faltered as he thought out what to say, but in the end, he said nothing.

  He had no idea how long the asshole stuck around; he managed to kill enough time in the restroom so when he came back out, Koen was gone. Which was good, because Evan needed the time to chill himself out.

  Anger raced through his veins at the thought of the slime ball wanting to put his hands on Paige, because it was obvious that’s what he wanted. Paige may be oblivious, with all her ‘strictly platonic’ talk, but it was plain to Evan that Neil Koen had a raging hard on for her. And the thought that Paige had told Koen about their night did more to piss him off than anything else.

  Back in his office, he paused the background checks and ran one specifically on one Neil Koen. And then wiped out his bank accounts, donating all of his sizeable account holdings to the homeless in the city, and then ruined his credit record. All within forty seconds of sitting down.

  He felt marginally better afterward.

  Focusing on the computer with The Crimson Lady site on it, Evan cruised around, finding a lot of cheats and shortcuts. There were some coordinates of hidden caches—food, weapon, and supplies—that players left for others. Evan made a mental note to ask Red_Dawn if he knew about this site. It seemed to be right up his alley—finding life points the easy way. But there was nothing specific to The Crimson Lady other than her own sporadic visits.

  He pulled up the code for the site and grunted in surprise. An encrypted, back door, invitation-only chat room came up, nearly identical to code he’d written eight years ago.

  He went in.

  Immediately, his screen filled with The Crimson Lady’s image, curls of flaming red hair writhing around his monitor like snakes. His graphics weren’t set for gaming on this computer, so the details weren’t pixelated, and he saw her smooth skin, lifelike eyes glittering with amusement, her mouth curling up into a slight smile.

  “You are persistent, EmberFalls.”

  He was surprised at the use of his gamer persona on his personal computer. He typed in his response, quelling his confusion. “I wanted to see you.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” was her simple reply. Her face remained impassive, still looking amused, but her hair seemed agitated, swirling around her head faster. “You weren’t invited.”

  “How do I get invited?” He wanted to know how she targeted the kids, how she got them to do what she wanted. It wasn’t as important as who was behind her, but he didn’t think she’d tell him if he asked.

  “You must be younger, for one. And stupider, for another.”

  “How do you know how old I am?”

  Her face broke into a gleeful smile, and a cackle of laughter flew from her lips. It was odd, and he wished he had headphones. Her voice was sultry, and her laugh was a little sexy. It probably sounded like he had a woman in his office through the closed door.

  “Evan Rocco, aged 39, works for Pierce Securities since February of this year, social security number 444-44-4444, address 1328 Sixth Street #32, Austin, TX. Driver’s License number 5844691385. Do you need more?”

  “No.” Dumbfounded, he could only stare. Evan was extremely careful with his online information, knowing full well how easy it was to get into the wrong hands. He had never let his online presence be known that much. It terrified him that this malicious entity had it. He could only assume she was hooked into every online database there was. Because there was only one he could think of that would have that much information on him.

  NSA.

  The face in front of him morphed into a snarling beast, curls turning into actual images of snakes. Her mouth opened into a wide circle, and she screamed at him, “Then GET OUT!” Her scream was shrill and caused him to slam the laptop shut to make it stop. Breathless, he realized he had goose bumps all over his arms.

  Fuck. That bitch was scary.

  He immediately called his contact at the NSA, worried that if he contacted them, they would make him do something, because that seemed to be the way they worked. But his contact assured him they were monitoring the situation. He could only take that to mean they knew The Crimson Lady hacked them, had his information, and didn’t give a shit. They were probably setting him up.

  Super.

  Bar Night was actually that night, so after getting pissed at the NSA again, Evan tinkered with The Crimson Lady code until he had calmed down. He eagerly packed it all up and left for the night, anxious to see exactly what Bar Night had in store. Hopefully he could glean some more information about possible suspects, narrow it down or something. If nothing else, he could unwind with a drink or two.

  The bar, Stella’s, was a small, dimly lit affair down the street. Evan parked his car out front, under a streetlight, and locked his laptop inside. It wouldn’t do for it to get into the wrong hands, and he was just paranoid enough to believe it could.

  It seemed like everyone was there, with the exception of IT. The law department was actually in a different office, so they weren’t there, either, presumably at a more posh, men’s club type place.

  Stella’s was a dump. While everything was clean, it had all been painted black, probably with spray cans of flat matte, and even though it was a non-smoking establishment, it didn’t smell that way. But the drinks were cheap and flowing freely. Eva
n settled in for a night of people watching. Maybe he could derive some sort of divine inspiration from watching them all. Maybe someone would open up to him and brag about creating The Crimson Lady. Because at this point, he had nothing concrete.

  Evan leaned back in the seat next to a woman from the design team, sipping his beer and watching the people around him. His focus narrowed on Peggy. She seemed like one of those types of women who put a lot of money into her appearance, and the effect was disastrous. Her fake nails were too long, painted a brash hot pink color which clashed hideously with her brassy blonde hair. She wore it in the same style as Paige, long and wavy down her back, but on her heavily made up face, it had a vastly different look to it. Her hair was fluffy and straw-like, probably due to an enormous amount of product and chemicals, whereas Paige’s was all natural. Her clothes were bright and tight, emphasizing more curves than a man really needed to see, for example, the camel-toe in her skin-tight pants that Evan’s gaze constantly tried to avoid. Like a skirt hiked into panty hose, though, it was damn near impossible not to see. And her perfume… Shit. Peggy dunked herself in the stuff like it was better than bathing.

  But she was a person of interest in his investigation, and interesting indeed. In the twenty minutes he watched her, her head swiveled to the door no less than twenty-six times, obviously looking for someone. When she actually asked someone if Paige was coming, Evan knew exactly who she was looking for. He wondered why she was so interested in her.

  Terry squeezed in between Evan and the girl from the design team, smiling affably at the girl before using her hips to push her away. That left very little room next to him, and in an effort to make more space, he rested his arm across the booth behind her.

  “Hey. How’s Evan Rocco settling in?” she asked, sipping through the tiny black straw stuck in her turquoise drink.

  “Fine, I suppose,” Evan shrugged, a bit uneasy at the use of the third person.

  Terry’s eyelids drooped a bit in thought before her mouth quirked up at the edge. “So, is there a Mrs. Evan Rocco in the picture? Girlfriend, maybe?”

  Evan laughed at the thought of a wife at home before answering in the negative. Terry was a nice enough girl, and probably someone he would have taken home with him six months ago, but now she wasn’t an option. As his eyes slid over to the door involuntarily, he heard Peggy’s harsh laughter and watched her eyeball the door again, too.

  He made small talk with Terry for a little while, watching the office members’ interactions. The people from PSL took up a third of the bar, which was quickly filling up with other patrons. It was funny, though, how the office people mostly stuck together. There were a few who had wandered over to the bar and were talking with ‘outsiders’ as he was quickly referring to them inside his head. But for the most part, they were all sitting around the group of eight or so tables that had been pushed together when they got there.

  He’d just ordered his second beer when Paige walked in. She wasn’t alone, though. Evan’s gut clenched when he saw Neil’s arm draped over her shoulder as she walked toward them, smiling brightly.

  “Hey, guys! Happy Bar Night!” she cheered with a smile for everyone. A rousing chorus greeted her, and Evan could see she was a well-loved boss. Nobody here really seemed to want to get her.

  Peggy jumped up. “Can I get you a margarita, Paige?”

  “No thanks, Peg. I got it.” She dismissed the woman and dislodged Neil’s arm from her shoulder to turn to the bar. For all her faults, Peggy seemed genuine with Paige, and Evan relaxed somewhat. She was visibly disappointed at Paige’s rejection, though, and Evan didn’t miss that. Nor did he miss the quick cutting of her eyes to Neil Koen, who was obviously ignoring her. As if it was possible to ignore Peggy.

  Evan’s attention turned to Paige.

  Dressed in a baggy dress that fell above her knees, and a blue cardigan sweater, she was the picture of hipster elegance. Blue suede Mary Janes only served to heighten her sex appeal in the whole little-girl-all-grown-up look Evan found damned attractive. Her light blonde hair fell in waves down her back, held in place by a knit stocking cap on her head. Standing at the bar, her head tilted to one side to hear the bartender, she was Evan’s fantasy woman. Smart, sexy, self-assured, and amazing in bed. His cock twitched in his pants, reminding him he was staring, but he’d be damned if he gave a shit.

  He watched as she brought back two clear drinks and handed one to Neil, who stared at her with obvious lust in his eyes. Evan wondered how she could miss that and think they had a platonic thing. Unless she’d lied to him.

  What game was she playing? Was this all an intricate setup with her boy toy to make a fool out of him? He probably wouldn’t think that if it hadn’t been for her completely ignoring him the first week he worked for her. It was almost like he was a pawn she was putting in place for some higher purpose. And her words the last time they’d spoken still echoed in his ear, “Maybe you should look at your own past?” Was she setting him up?

  It was entirely possible this was an elaborate ploy to take him down. Since the TEKNIX Magazine article, he’d been targeted for his theories on Artificial Intelligence and its applications. This could be another plan to ruin him. If he were being set up to take the fall for The Crimson Lady, somehow, she was way more devious than he’d ever realized. That would make this a complicated orchestration of epic proportions of which he wasn’t sure he could deal with alone.

  His mind swam with suspicions when he felt a feminine set of fingers walk themselves up his lapel. A husky murmur filled his ear, distracting him briefly from thoughts of evil Paige.

  “You know she doesn’t date from the office pool… Or didn’t you get that memo?”

  He turned to see Terry, whom he’d forgotten about, wide blue eyes lusty. “Who?”

  “Paige. Besides, looks like she’s otherwise entertained.”

  Neil was feeding her an olive off his plastic sword, and Evan wanted to plunge it into his eyeball. She hadn’t even looked at him since she’d walked into the bar with Neil wrapped around her. They were back to the ignoring thing. She laughed at something Koen whispered into her ear, and Evan’s blood boiled. Was she kidding?

  “She doesn’t have the same rules for the rest of us, though…” Her hand had slipped under his lapel and was blatantly feeling his pectoral muscle. “Oh my…” she breathed as her fingernail scraped against his nipple.

  Evan smiled vaguely, eyes roaming the crowd. Paige was shaking off another of Peggy’s offers for a drink, and Delvin was getting cozy with the receptionist whose name Evan couldn’t remember.

  “Do people often hook up here?”

  Terry nodded at him, lips pursed, and Evan thought out his options. If he were honest, he wanted to go home with Paige, but he’d already told her he was keeping this professional, even after nearly having his way with her against a haunted house wall. And besides, he didn’t particularly want to see Neil hanging on her anymore. Certainly not with her flirting back at him. Gene was across the table from him, laughing and flirting with another guy from the office, and Delvin was now kissing the receptionist. Nobody seemed to be batting an eye.

  He could use Terry for information. She seemed up on all the office gossip; maybe she had an insider’s viewpoint he wasn’t going to get with Paige ignoring him. He felt a little bad for it, but Terry’s fingernails scraping across his chest told him she probably wouldn’t mind.

  Leaning closer to Terry, he inhaled the scent of her hair. It was nice, but not the cock-leaping smell Paige had. Terry smelled like strawberries, where Paige had the whole natural woman thing going on. As if she knew he was thinking about her, Paige’s giggle rose to his ears, the tinkling sound aimed at Koen. Without thought to the consequences, he leaned his head lower to Terry’s ear, nipping the lobe between his teeth while her hand continued roaming his chest. As it went lower, Evan suckled on her earlobe, trying to get thoughts of Paige out of his mind. When her hand grazed his cock through his jeans, he noticed as she di
d, that it was limp.

  A puff of disappointment blew through her lips.

  “Hang on a minute. I’ll be back, okay?” he murmured into her ear. She nodded and he escaped. Away from Terry and his own misplaced flirtations. Away from Paige.

  There was a hallway in the back of the bar where the restrooms were, and Evan once again found himself in a men’s room, trying to chill himself out. This had been a mistake. He wasn’t watching anybody but Paige. Maybe Simon was right. Maybe they should quit the job; he certainly wasn’t much farther along than they had been when he’d been hired. Except she would be a victim. Only five more attacks remained, and Evan was sure Paige was a target. His chest tightened at the thought, and he had to steel himself to keep from punching the wall in frustration.

  He washed his hands, drying them on a paper towel, and walked out the door to find Paige standing there with fiery eyes.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed at him.

  “Having drinks with co-workers,” he shrugged. Now his cock comes alive. Traitor.

  “The hell you are. I’m paying you to do a job. And since you’re all about professionalism, you shouldn’t be sucking face with Terry.”

  “It was more of an ear thing. What do you have against Terry?”

  Paige rolled her eyes. “She’s had every guy in this office. You’d just be another notch for her.”

  Evan leaned against the wall behind him, sticking his thumbs through his belt loops. She was upset, and he wondered why.

  “Like a bucket list?” He watched her eyes and saw exactly when the strike hit home as she flinched, then steeled herself for combat.