Nausea climbed her throat. “I should have guessed he’d find the drive, but I assumed if he did, he’d take it. When I popped the cap and found it there, taped inside, just as I’d left it…”
Scott took one of her hands and then tipped her chin up so she had to look at him. “Don’t get angry at me for not throwing shit, okay?” He flashed a weak smile and her heart lifted an inch.
If she was thankful for anything on this day—on every day—it was him. She squeezed his fingers in gratitude.
“I’m completely knocked back by this,” he said, “but we knew it was a possibility. We just have to regroup and figure out something else.”
“I know.” She nodded. “I just wanted this to be it,” she said, balling her hands into fists and holding them up to her face. “I typically have endless patience for this kind of thing. It’s not unusual to spend months working every angle to hack a client. I am relentless. Relentlessly curious and driven by the need to solve the puzzle. But my life never depended on the outcome before. I’m so… I’mtired.” Of running and hiding and waiting and hoping and failing.
He smoothed back the hair near her face and stroked her cheek. “Me too, baby.” His kiss was a too-quick brush of the lips. “But together we’ll beat Hollowell. Maybe not today, but wewillwin.”
She had foolishly pinned all her hopes on the emails, knowing the risk and not wanting to face failure. But Scott was right. There were other options—longer options that meant more time as fugitives—but they weren’t dead in the water. Still, who could blame her for wanting a normal life right this minute? One where she and Scott could see if this relationship worked when they weren’t under duress. One where they could live in the open instead of huddling in the shadows like spiders under a bookcase.
He stood, sweat still glistening on his brow. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Then we can eat something and figure out what’s next.”
They’d both been too keyed up to eat earlier, and despite her despair, hunger gnawed at her belly. “I’ll heat the frozen pizzas.” She kissed him and went to the kitchen to turn on the oven.
The water started running in the bathroom. Any other time, she’d surprise him in the shower—they could both use a pick-me-up. Instead, she turned back to her computer. She’d laid some groundwork on several forums, looking for anyone with info on Duncan, rumors about who he might be working with, past transgressions that weren’t public knowledge.
She’d even considered doxing the guy—putting his personal info on the web—to get others to help her with her dirty work. But if his wife or kids got hurt, she’d never forgive herself.
While the oven heated, she flipped her laptop around and woke it from its sleep. The worthless flash drive they’d risked their lives for stuck out of the computer’s USB port, a hateful reminder that they had nothing.
Her heart slammed against her sternum. “Oh, shit.”
Initially, she hadn’t worried about inserting the drive because it was hers, seemingly undisturbed, untouched. No threat. And her antivirus software hadn’t alerted her. Then, she’d been so distracted by her failure, she hadn’t even thought about what other files might be hidden on the tiny device. The kind of files she would have deployed if she were her old boss.
Damn damn damn damn damn.
Yanking the drive from the computer, she stuffed it into her pocket. Then she logged into her computer and disconnected from the WiFi.
Probably too late.
She stuffed the laptop and power cords into her bag, and ran to the bedroom where Scott had just emerged naked from the shower, all lean muscle and delicious bare skin, running a towel through his hair.
“Get dressed,” she said, scrambling to grab what she could. “We have to get out of here.”
“What’s going on?” He donned a pair of boxers and grabbed for his jeans.
“I’m an idiot. I didn’t check the drive, but there’s a good chance Duncan knows where we are right now.”
“Shit,” he said, buttoning his pants. Superman couldn’t have dressed faster.
In under a minute, she waited by the front door wearing a snow cap, heavy jacket, and gloves, bag packed with the essentials, especially her money.
“Scott?” she called toward the bedroom, wondering at the unexpected delay. Hadn’t he been right behind her? His winter gear was next to the door. What the hell was the holdup?
He emerged from the room, switching off the overhead light on his way out. His backpack was looped casually over one shoulder, but he didn’t look ready to run. Instead, he held one of the burner phones to his ear.
“My name is Scott Kramer. I’m a wanted fugitive.”
Valerie’s jaw unhinged. “What are you doing?” she asked in a stage whisper.
He shook his head and made a silencing gesture with one finger as he strolled casually into the kitchen and turned off the oven.
She sputtered. His actions were so outside the unexpected, she couldn’t even form a coherent response. Betrayal stabbed her hard and fast like a dagger to the heart.
“Yes, ma’am.ThatScott Kramer.” Regret crossed his handsome features and he held Valerie’s gaze as he said, “I’d like to turn myself in.”
