It felt like an eternity as they both waited, watching the blinking cursor as if it held the answers to the meaning of life. And maybe for Agent Grace Beacham, it did. Then…
Who are you?
When those three words appeared on the screen, Hannah shot a hand of victory in the air.
“Hurricane Hannah!” Sam spun her around in the chair, then pulled her to her feet and into a bear hug. “I knew you could do it!”
Her self-congratulations were forgotten because there wasn’t an inch between them. They were chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Even the outsides of her feet touched the insides of his.
To say her skin was electrified was an understatement. It felt like every nerve was singed raw. And she wasveryaware of just how big he was against her. How wide his chest was. How powerful his thighs were. Howsolidand warm he felt.
She would’ve taken a moment to revel in the embrace. But he pushed her away so quickly, she nearly got a crick in her neck.
The fanciful part of her hoped the move was a result of him being shocked by the feel of her in his arms and the subsequent awareness that she was a grown-ass woman. But the practical part of her knew that was fantasy. He proved it when he said, “Go, go! Answer! Hurry!”
Suppressing a sigh, she retook her seat and paused with her fingers over the keyboard. “What should I say?”
“Tell ’em we’re Agent Beacham’s friends. Tell ’em we’re trying to help her.”
She typed in the response and then waited while the cursor continued its monotonous flashing. Then she waited some more as Sam paced back and forth behind her chair, his biker boots making solid-sounding thumps against the floor.
After his sixth trip, he grumbled, “What the hell is the holdup?”
“They’re probably trying to find our IP address so they can identify whether we reallyarefriends or whether we’re foespretendingto be friends. Give them time,” she placated. “If they’re as good as I suspect they are, they’ll figure out pretty quickly I’m not some fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants fledgling. They’d have to spend the next handful of hours following my trail before they’d be able to pinpoint my location. And I seriously doubt they want to waste that time. They’ll respond. Curiosity will make them respond.”
As if on cue...
How did you find us?
She was quick to type back:Followed the breadcrumbs.
Is Agent Beacham with you?
Once again, she glanced over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question.
“Don’t answer that,” Sam instructed. “Tell ’em she’s safe for now.”
She typed in his response and waited again. They didn’t have to wait long that time. And when the reply lit up on the screen, she felt the hairs on her arms stand on end.
No such thing as safety in this country anymore. Even at Black Knights Inc.
“Cockwaffle.” She wheezed. Nobody should’ve been able to find her that quickly.Nobody.
Before she could think, she’d keyed in a question. The same questiontheyhad started with:Who are you?
We are the ears that listen in the darkness. We are the eyes that witness secret sins. We are the guardians against tyranny and fascism. We are Kerberos.
She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest in an attempt to slow the thunderous beat of her heart. Her face must’ve given away her shock because Sam spun her chair around, placed his hands on the armrests, and leaned close.
“Holy fucknuts, Hannah.” His gaze was diamond-hard. “What’s going on? Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” He jerked his chin toward the words glowing on the monitor. “Who’s Kerberos?”
Her voice was little more than a rasp. “According to Greek legend, Kerberos was the three-headed dog who guarded the gates of the Underworld to keep the dead from leaving.”
When he only stared at her in confusion, she added, “But in hacker circles and on Reddit threads, Kerberos is like Anonymous on crack. They’re geniuses who do what no one else can. I assumed they were a myth conjured up by nerds who daydreamed about superhero hacktivists the way most kids dream about Iron Man. But”—she had to swallow—“looks like they’re real.”
He shoved to a stand. “First a Russian assassin named Orpheus who most people don’t believe exists, and now a group of souped-up computer geeks who—”
“They’re more than souped-up computer geeks,” she cut him off. “Iam a souped-up computer geek.Thesepeople?” She gestured toward the monitor. “They were able to figure out where we are in three minutes when it should’ve taken them three hours. They aren’t just good. They aren’t even just great. They’rescarygreat. No cap.”
