Page 3 of Hacker Identified

"He's making a change to zoning on a portion of land in Virginia, so he can build his library. The man owns real estate all over the country. I don't understand why he needs to develop that section. I think he fudged wildlife records to get the endangered plant removed and to push the zoning through quicker," I said.

Z tapped his finger on his glass before he spoke. "How about we make a deal? Here's my proposition: you agree to be my fiancé for at least six months. I'll make sure you meet face-to-face with Zack after you sign a contract."

I stared at the man and wished he would remove the sunglasses covering his eyes. I highly doubted he could fulfill his promise. "Why? You're a good-looking man. I'm sure you don't want to tie yourself to someone like me."

Makeup and clothing weren't ever high on my list. Under my father's roof, I had designer dresses, and people did my makeup. Living in witness protection and pursuing a career in environmental science didn't give me the same luxuries, and I’d never learned to do it myself.

The jagged scar across my cheek didn't help with my appearance either. A few of my friends had tried to set me up, and I was always asked why I didn't use makeup to cover the pinkish mark. My go-to outfit these days was cargo pants, a t-shirt, and combat boots.

I worked out in the field retrieving samples most of the time. When I finally got a meeting with Zack, I planned to explain how the plant on the land was still endangered and should have never been taken off the list.

Z cleared his throat, and I glanced up at him and tried to figure out his ulterior motive.

"I think you're exactly what I need in a fiancé," he commented.

"If I agree to this horrible idea, you'll call the former president and set up a meeting now?"

"Yes," he said.

His hand brushed against my arm as he reached for a cocktail napkin and a pen near the edge of the bar.

Goosebumps covered my skin from the slight touch, but I didn't have time to think about it as he scribbled, ‘Engagement Contract’ on the top of the napkin.

On a new line, he wrote: “Six months, must live together and sleep in the same bed. Every day apart will get added to the end.”

He signed a Z near the bottom. "Time for your signature."

Gibs would kill me for this, but for some reason, I grabbed the pen from his hand.

My hand hovered over the thin napkin.

"This handwritten note won't hold up in a court of law," I replied as I wrote my name.

He shrugged. "We both signed. I won't retract what I promised. People used to always do handshake deals in Vegas. Now let's get your introduction done and then we can learn more about each other…"

I rolled my eyes and said, "This is the part where I realize I made a deal with a serial killer, and he’s leading me to my death." Years' worth of self-defense training and everything Gibs had taught me went out the window the moment I signed the napkin. "Let me settle my tab." A plan formulated in my head as I reached for my credit card. If he kidnapped me or killed me, Gibs would have my last location from the charge.

Except Z pushed my hand back and tossed three hundred dollars on the bar. I shouldn't have been surprised by the generous tip since we were in a hotel for high rollers only.

"I can pay for my own drink," I grumbled.

"Maybe next time," he countered and held out his hand to help me off the stool.

Z towered over me as he rested his hand on my back and steered me toward the main walkway. I stopped in my footsteps. "You should know I'm not staying here and don't have a lot of money."

He grabbed a single lock of my curly hair and tugged on it. "I'll take care of all your expenses for the next six months. In time, everything will make sense."

I shrugged my shoulder, and he linked his fingers with mine. There was no going back. My stomach turned as he led me toward the glass doors. I hated myself for not asking more questions. Especially a simple one to figure out how he knew Zack or where he thought we would meet him. But my mouth went dry when we stepped outside. Paparazzi huddled around the entrance of the hotel.

Near the back of the crowd, a street performer danced on the sidewalk, and I watched for a couple of seconds before the clicks of the cameras echoed through the air, and President Tucker's name was shouted by the masses. I glanced to my right, and my heart skipped a beat when I caught sight of Z without his glasses and hat.

A squeak escaped my throat, and I tried to pull my hand from his grasp. The photographers yelled questions in rapid fire.

The group of people pushed forward, my foot twisted on the step, and I fell to the side. Zack grabbed me around the waist before I toppled over, but my straw hat caught a gust of wind and flew into the crowd.

Shit. The flashes increased.

"Would everyone stop clicking your damn cameras for a second? I have an announcement, and the blinding lights are annoying," Zack's voice boomed over the shouting.

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