Sherri Shackelford - Stolen Secrets

Jordan narrowed his gaze. “Then you haven’t spoken with anyone else about what’s on your mind? A friend? A family member?”

“No.” She blinked rapidly. “I can’t.”

He kept his posture relaxed and easy though his thoughts were troubled. While on a previous assignment, he’d been informed that his stepsister was in a serious car accident. She’d been writing about a prolific serial killer when she’d discovered the murderer’s identity. Instead of seeking Jordan’s help, she’d tried to handle the situation on her own—with near-fatal consequences. He didn’t want Lucy to feel the same way.

He wanted her to trust him. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Leaning forward, she tipped her coffee before quickly righting the cup. “I think someone is trying to frame me for a security breach at work.”

Jordan blinked.

He’d expected her to confess that she was having financial difficulties or something mundane. “You develop software for drone technology, right?”

“Yes.” She took a shaky sip of her coffee. “Drones are coupled with satellites, and I write code to ensure a secure uplink. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but that’s the simple version.”

The fine hairs on the back of his neck stirred. Overseas, drones did a massive amount of heavy lifting. Any disruption risked the safety of American troops.

“How do you think you’re being framed?” he asked.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me or tell me I’m being paranoid.” She pressed her knuckles against her red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you for taking me seriously. No one else—Never mind. Just…thank you.”

Confessing her worries had released a floodgate of emotion. She was on edge, her distress barely in check. Though he wanted to comfort her, calm was contagious, and if he avoided mirroring her emotions, she was more likely to stay in control.

“Just tell me what happened,” he urged, keeping his tone professional. “And we’ll go from there.”

She took a few deep, fortifying breaths, then nodded.

“There was a data breach in my department while I was on vacation.” She hugged the edges of her sweater together. “Nothing major, but enough to make everyone on the executive floor nervous. I didn’t think much about it until last Thursday. I was working late to catch up when someone on the cleaning crew mentioned that I’d been working after hours a lot. Only I hadn’t been in the office for almost a week.”

“And they were certain it was you?”

“Yes. That’s what caught my attention.” She lifted a strand of her platinum hair. “I don’t exactly blend into a crowd. I might have written it off as a mistake, but the night security guard said something similar.” Casting a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, she whispered, “I think someone is impersonating me.”

All of that was suspicious but not necessarily proof. “Anything else?”

“A barista at a coffee shop near the building where I work also mentioned seeing me.”

“How well do you know the barista?”

“Not at all. I only stopped there because I was running late that day. It was the first time I’d ever been in that shop.”

Possible explanations buzzed through his head. A doppelgänger was bizarre, yet not necessarily outside the realm of possibilities. Selling classified information was lucrative, but extremely risky for both the buyer and seller. Deflecting the blame created a tactical advantage.

“Have you informed your supervisor?” he asked.

“Informed him of what?” She splayed her hands. “That someone who looks like me parked their car in the lot and entered the building? How do I prove it wasn’t me?”

She had a point. Depending on the clarity of the cameras and how well the impostor resembled her, there might not be a way to tell the difference.

“What do you know about the data breach?” He shifted directions. “What were they after?”

“I don’t know. No one is talking.” She ducked her head. “I think they’re watching me. There’s a chance my phone has been tapped. I even thought a car was following me today. Anything is possible.”

That was an understatement.

She had no idea the sorts of surveillance that were possible these days, even for civilians. “The car you thought was following you—do you know the make and model?”

“A white sedan. Like a Toyota Corolla or something similar.” She snapped her fingers. “There’s something else. I got a couple of weird texts. They didn’t make any sense, so I figured it was a wrong number.”

“Do you still have them?”

“No. I deleted the thread. Like I said, I thought they were a mistake until the other stuff started happening.”

He didn’t believe in coincidences. Nearly a year ago, he’d lost his friend and colleague to a suicide bomber. This morning he’d discovered Brandt, with no apparent logical motivation, had lied to him about an engagement ring. He’d also learned that Lucy was the possible target of a frame-up.

That was one too many odd occurrences for his peace of mind.

“If what you suspect is true,” Jordan began, “and someone is impersonating you to steal information, then you’re at risk. You need protection.”

He’d promised to look out for Lucy if anything ever happened to Brandt, and he’d already failed in that duty. He should have contacted her sooner, but he’d been a coward.

He’d been avoiding this meeting, hoping his feelings had faded. She’d been through enough already. She was vulnerable, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of her. He owed that much to Brandt. Being near her would be punishing; maybe she was the penance he deserved.

“Never mind.” Lucy twisted around, reaching for the voluminous leather tote hanging on the back of her chair. “Forget I said anything. I’m sure it’s all a mistake anyway.”

Jordan absently touched his breast pocket, then decided against saying anything. He didn’t know what the second ring meant, and there was no reason to upset her. Until he knew otherwise, he was dedicated to preserving Brandt’s memory. He’d be loyal in his actions if not his feelings.

“Lucy—”

His next words froze on the tip of his tongue. Through the coffee shop window, he saw a white sedan appear. The unmistakable glint of a gun barrel caught his attention. Jordan’s training kicked into action, and he launched himself over the table to protect Lucy.

At Jordan’s swift movement, Lucy startled. The glass pane at the front of the shop exploded. Time slowed and Jordan caught hold of her. Shards of glass showered over them, clattering to the floor like a hailstorm. He dragged her down, and they both tumbled over her chair. She braced for a painful landing, but he angled his body at the last minute, taking the worst of the blow. The jolt knocked the air from her lungs.

A woman screamed, and a table crashed near Lucy’s head. Someone was shooting at them.

Voices sounded in panic from all directions, and she struggled to make sense of the commotion. Jordan kept her anchored in place, and she instinctively fought the restriction. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, urging her into fight-or-flight mode.

“I need a better vantage point,” he whispered roughly, retrieving a gun from inside his jacket. “Stay down and out of sight. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to move toward the exit.”

A loud bang was followed by a dusty spray of plaster.

Without giving her a chance to protest, Jordan moved away.

When she reached for him, her fingers closed around air.

Several customers cowered behind tables while others crouched in place. Everyone was frozen in terror. She had to think. She’d gone through active shooter training at work. Human Resources had been relentless in drilling the instructions. Run first, hide if necessary, fight back as a last resort.