Lisa Childs - Agent Undercover

“It was the bank that he used and the only money I took was from his account,” she said. For some reason she wanted him to know that greed hadn’t motivated her. But was it any better that spite had?

He chuckled. “And if I remember right from what I read in your file, you donated that money to a charity called Family First.”

She couldn’t chuckle. Even after all these years, she was still kind of bitter. Probably too bitter. “I wanted to hurt him.”

“Instead you’re the one you hurt,” he said. “Because he pressed charges.”

And yet her mother had stayed with the man. Clearly Bonita Molenski had made her choice when she’d left them, but still it had hurt Claire that her mother had cared so little about her that she would have let her go to juvenile detention. But then the FBI had offered Claire another option.

“You’ve definitely read my file,” she mused. Either he’d read it a few times, or he had a photographic memory. She glanced around her ransacked office. “It hasn’t been all bad, though. I actually enjoy what I do.”

“You do?” he asked doubtfully, as if he couldn’t understand why.

She laughed at his skepticism. “Yes, I do. I’ve not only been given permission to hack, I’ve been encouraged to do it. It’s fun.”

Or it had been until she had realized that her job was pretty much all she had. Of course she’d spent time with her dad when she hadn’t been working. But he was finally over her mother and had moved on, so it was time she did the same. That was why she’d joined the dating service—one she’d trusted to make sure that none of the participants were already married like her mother had been. That hadn’t been the case at the speed dating event, though. But maybe, like Ash, some of the others hadn’t been there to date, either.

He sighed and released the snow globe to her hands. “You’re not selling a flash drive with inside information on how to get around security firewalls.”

So that was what he’d thought she was selling. “I would never sell that kind of information,” she assured him.

After her arrest all those years ago, she had learned to control her impulsiveness and consider the consequences of her actions before she acted. Ironically, learning that had actually made her a better hacker.

Knuckles rapped against the glass wall of her office. “Hey, Boss, what happened here tonight?”

She turned her attention to her young assistant, who leaned now in her open doorway. His bleached white-blond hair was all mussed up as if he’d been sleeping and his eyes were red-rimmed as if he’d been out partying before he’d fallen asleep. Maybe Martin Crouch wasn’t as young as she thought—he just dressed and acted young. Peter Nowak must have called him in to help her look through her ransacked office.

“The building was broken into and Harold was injured,” she said. As soon as they had arrived at the company, she’d learned the name of the injured guard. Ash had checked in with the hospital again and had assured her that Harold was out of surgery and in stable condition. Fortunately, he would fully recover.

“Is—is he going to be okay?” Martin asked.

He must have been as shocked and horrified as she was. Despite checking security for banks and the government, the company had always been safe and secure—probably because most people didn’t realize exactly what kind of computer consulting they did.

“Yes, he is,” Ash answered for her.

Martin turned his attention to Ash and asked, “Are you a police officer?”

Claire opened her mouth, but before she could reply, Ash answered for her again. “I’m Claire’s boyfriend.”

She sucked in a breath of shock at his outrageous claim. Nobody would actually believe that they were dating—not a former lawbreaker and an FBI agent. But maybe Ash didn’t intend to tell anyone that he was an agent. Her boss knew but national security relied on his ability to keep secrets.

Martin’s bleached blond brows arched in surprise. As her assistant, he knew how many hours they worked and how little time she had for a relationship. “Really?”

“We met through a dating service,” Ash replied with a pointed stare at her—probably so that she would back his story.

“Really?” Martin asked again, and he turned toward Claire now.

Technically Ash hadn’t lied, but she wondered why he hadn’t told more of the truth. Like what he really did for a living. Could he suspect Martin of being involved in offering that information for sale? He suspected her, though, and had revealed that he was an FBI agent. But maybe he’d only done that because she’d nearly been abducted.

Aware of the danger, she followed his lead and replied, “Yes, really. Ash and I met at a speed dating event.” Like Ash, she left out the part that it had been just that evening.

“How come you didn’t mention anything to me about meeting someone?” Martin asked, sounding hurt, which surprised her.

He was her assistant but not her confidant. She didn’t share everything with him. She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “I wanted to see how it worked out before I said anything.”

She was damn sure a relationship would never work out between her and the FBI agent. He thought she was a criminal, and she thought he was too uptight and judgmental.

“So you’re okay?” Martin asked. At first she wasn’t sure what he was talking about—her and Ash—or the break-in. But then he added, “Nothing was taken?”

She tightly clasped the snow globe and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“That’s good,” he said. “Do you want me to help you clean up?”

“No, but thanks for asking, Martin.” She was surprised that he had, though, because she rarely let him touch anything in her space even though he was her assistant.

She hated that someone else had been in her office, touching her things, moving and throwing them around the small area. She didn’t need everything to be neat; she just needed it to be where she’d left it so she would know where to find it again. At least they hadn’t broken the globe or, as far as she could tell, anything else.

“It’s so late,” she told Martin, “that you should just go home.” Like she just wanted to go home...

Martin glanced to Ash again. Either he was concerned about leaving her alone with this strange man or he was seeking permission from Ash to leave.

He was her assistant, though. He was supposed to defer to her. Usually he did—when he wasn’t preoccupied with whatever games he was playing when he should be working instead.

Ash assured him, “I’ll take care of her.”

Was he offering that assurance as an FBI agent? Or as the boyfriend he was pretending to be?

Easily accepting Ash’s claim, Martin nodded and headed for the door. He was probably eager to go back to bed. Or maybe to the party...

Ash waited until her assistant was out of earshot before he asked her, “There really is nothing missing? Not even a flash drive?”

She glanced at the contents of her open desk drawer before closing it again. It had been a long night. She should have been tired, too. “Maybe a flash drive...”

He tensed, his spine straightening so that he stood even taller, making him even more imposing since the muscles in his arms stretched the sleeves of his sweater. His jaw was rigid with tension. He was an FBI agent on full alert.

She laughed at his overreaction and couldn’t resist teasing him. “It’s okay. I have those photos on my hard drive at home. I don’t think the thieves are going to find them nearly as special as I do, though.”

He didn’t laugh; he didn’t even smile. His handsome face still tense, he asked, “Personal photos?”

A pang of panic struck her heart as a terrifying thought occurred to her. “You don’t think they’ll use those photos to go after my family?”