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Jess’s neighborhood pub, AJ Hudson’s, was almost empty on Monday night at 9:00 pm. She climbed onto her usual
barstool and pulled her laptop out of her backpack.
“Coffee or bourbon?” Geoffrey asked, slapping down a napkin in front of her.
She gave him an affectionate smile. She’d always liked the red-haired, grizzled owner, and had come to practically love him in the past year. He had to know about the scandal; everyone did. But he never mentioned it. Well, other than to give her a free shot every now and then while muttering, “Fuck ’em all, Jessie, right?”
She slid off her windbreaker, but burrowed into her old Cubs fleece. Anyone who thought that April was in spring had clearly never lived in Chicago. At least the tavern would only be cold until 10:00. Some old-building weirdness always made the radiant heat crank on at that time, flooding the bar with hot air—even if it was seventy degrees outside. It was a nightly source of complaint for the regulars.
“Coffee tonight.”
Geoffrey snorted. “Nobody in the bar and she orders a coffee. Can’t even order one Knob Creek to make it worth my while to come to work?” But he was smiling as he filled a chipped white mug and slid it in front of her.
Jess made a show of examining her watch. “Only one more week until the Cubs’ home opener, old man. Then I’ll have to fight for my usual seat.” She’d lived in the west Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago for almost ten years. Wrigley Field was a mile away, and baseball season supported most of the local bars well enough for them to survive the long, emptier winters.
She put her hands around the coffee cup to warm them and waited for her computer to boot up. It was strange how easily she’d taken to nocturnal habits after so many years in a more traditional schedule. Before she’d been fired, she went to work every day by 7:30 and she’d stayed until at least 6:00. Sometimes she had dates or dinner with her dad and brothers, but she rarely stayed awake past 10:00. Now, however, it was rare for her to go to bed before two or three in the morning.
“Still can’t get over how weird you look.” Geoff shook his head at her. “You’re all...tan.” The word was spit out with distaste.
Jess rolled her eyes. “I was in Florida for four months with my brother. It’s sunny there.” Andrew, the youngest sibling, hadn’t shared the view held by her three other brothers and her father, that the firing and scandal were definitely her fault. She still couldn’t believe how much it stung when they hadn’t listened to her version of events. She hadn’t even seen them since she returned. She was pretty sure they wished she’d stayed in Sarasota.
Geoff wasn’t impressed with her defense. “Skinny too.” With a meaningful glance at the cash register on the corner of the bar, he slid her a menu.
“Subtle,” Jess said. “Fine. I’ll take some crispy pickles.” Her stomach grumbled and she couldn’t blame it. She’d eaten dinner, but that had been hours ago and she’d gone for a five-mile run along the lake today. Geoff was right about her weight loss.
It wasn’t a vanity thing. She just had a lot of time on her hands and a lot of depression and rage to burn off.
But now she had another outlet to handle some of that rage. A frisson of excitement ran down her spine. She pulled out her own wireless hotspot and connected to it. AJ’s had free wireless, but she could never do what she was doing on someone else’s network. Time to see what my little worm dug up.
As a sliver of guilt joined the excitement, Jess squirmed on her stool and took a deep breath. No more stalling. She’d spent all day Sunday waffling before finally deciding that it was too late to turn back now. She’d already committed the illegal act, and it wasn’t exactly the first. In her months of unemployment and desperation to understand what had happened to her, she’d helped herself electronically to some private information. But this felt different. Ignatius had been an essential part of her life for so long. Invading it now felt...dirty. She’d stolen access and uploaded a series of bugs to the University’s network, for God’s sake. But looking at the data now was just the crescendo of her crimes; the damage had already been done.
She still couldn’t quite believe she’d actually pulled it off. With a little help. Jess frowned into her coffee. Technically she’d been caught. The frown turned into a reluctant smile. Caught, yes, but by the best-looking man she’d ever seen. And he hadn’t been appalled, or even that surprised. In fact, he seemed to think she was up to something even more nefarious.
Thank goodness she’d noticed the staff exit from the ballroom earlier in the evening. Once she saw the keycard go back into Jerome’s pocket with her own eyes, she’d fled into the kitchen. She pretended to be lost and tipsy until a busboy took pity on her and put her on the staff elevator to the first floor, where he walked her out the back entrance.
Sorry, Michael Collins, or whatever your name is. As much as she’d been tempted to stay right where he commanded, she needed to escape. He couldn’t know who she actually was or her entire plan would go right down the toilet. Hell, forget the plan. He could report her to the police and she’d go to jail.
Why had she admitted her keycard theft to him anyway? Sure, he’d seen her do it. But she could have ignored his questions. She could have walked away. Why had she opened up to him? Something to do with the twinkle in his eyes and the faint lines around them, she decided. He clearly knew what he was doing and maybe that experience, combined with his utter lack of judgment was what made her let down her guard. Stupid? Maybe. But ultimately the right call since he helped her return the keycard. And ultimately harmless, since she was able to escape.
She couldn’t help but wonder about his abrupt change in behavior in those last few seconds. Almost the entire time they’d been talking, he was light-hearted, teasing. But when he saw Jerome with Seymour and the mysterious Maurice Knoll, his entire demeanor changed. The amused, flirtatious persona vanished, replaced with a look of single-minded intensity.
It was truly unfortunate she needed to flee. Because on his face, intensity looked even better than amusement.
Her laptop beeped, indicating that it was finished running her custom encryption programs. She glanced around, noting the few other patrons at the far end of the bar. “Geoff, I’m moving,” she called, pointing to a booth in the corner. She needed her laptop screen facing the wall. It was just too risky.
Geoff acknowledged her with a nod of his head, and she made the move. With a quick prayer for forgiveness, she raised her fingers over her keyboard, prepared to bring up the browser that would lead her to the Dark Web.
She didn’t hear his footsteps. One moment it seemed that she was very alone in the dark corner of the bar. The next, he was standing next to her table, those electric-blue eyes roving over every inch of her face. Her hands froze in the air.
“Hello, Blondie.”
Chapter Three
Adam wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he expected from Saturday’s blonde woman in the white dress—who was currently neither blonde nor wearing a white dress.
If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he was hoping her reaction would be some sort of thrilled, seductive smile. But a more realistic one would have been a gasp, maybe even a small shriek. After all, she probably thought she’d made a clean escape on Saturday, leaving no trace of her true identity.
But she didn’t smile. She didn’t gasp or shriek. She didn’t even widen her eyes.
