Page 62 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
He makes a high-pitched deflating sound like a punctured tire, his bloodshot eyes wide.
“Almost everything in the world is available on the web,” she explains. “You just have to know where to look. For the login information, it was a darknet market where someone—my guess is a disgruntled employee—had linked to your internal server’s security software. As the passwords changed weekly here, they were also updated online. It cost a pretty penny but was obviously well worth it. In the case of the vents, it was architectural drawings from the archives of the DC building inspector’s office.”
Zuckerman, the secretary, and Butts look at each other. There seems to be an unspoken agreement that someone’s ass is getting kicked, but no consensus on whose.
I take advantage of the pause in the conversation. “It’s late. We’re all tired. Why don’t we reconvene in a few days after Ms. Lane has had a chance to compile a detailed written report with her findings and our suggestions for how Metrix can further assist the Institution with its security needs? Mr. Zuckerman, you know how to contact me.”
Before waiting for anyone to speak, I lift Mariana to her feet with a hand under her arm and head for the door.
“One more question before you leave, Ms. Lane.”
Mariana and I stop and turn back. Zuckerman is standing behind his desk, patting his moist forehead with a folded handkerchief. “What’s with the drawing of the dragonfly?”
Fuck. My hand reflexively tightens around her arm. It’s a protective response, but she calmly shakes me off and even manages a small, mirthless laugh.
“Oh, it’s just an inside joke. When we conduct these high-level pen tests, we always pretend we’re some famous thief. Like a role-playing thing.” She jerks her thumb at me. “This one always pretends he’s Butch Cassidy. Wanted to be a cowboy when he was a kid.”
Zuckerman beams. “How fun! What does Mr. McLean leave behind, a toy pistol?”
“A plastic burro.” When all three men frown, Mariana deadpans. “Because he’s an ass.”
“Isn’t she a hoot, guys?” My grin is stretched so wide, I can’t feel my lips. “Well, we’re off. See you in a few days!”
I turn and drag her out the door.
At least I get a dark chuckle from her on the way out.
* * *
Mariana doesn’t speak again until we’re in the truck I rented when I arrived in DC. As soon as she slams the door shut behind her, she turns to me and snaps, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bury my knife in your thorax.”
I start the car, rev the engine, and put it in reverse. “Which knife? The stiletto in your back pocket, the Tanto in your waistband, or the utility blade in your boot?”
I tear out of the parking spot in the museum’s lot to the sound of squealing tires and growling female.
“How did you know I was going to hit the museum?” she demands.
“I bugged Reynard’s place the minute I walked in last week.”
She gasps, and I grin. “You mentioned DC and the world’s largest blue diamond. Two plus two equals four, etcetera. Yeah, you had a real interestin’ conversation after I left and you popped out of wherever you’d been hiding. If memory serves, you called me gorgeous. No, wait. It was better than that.”
I pretend to think, as if I haven’t been thinking about it for seven days straight. “Handsome? No. Magnificent? No—oh yeah! Beautiful.”
I glance at her. She stares back at me in silent fury, nostrils flared, hands clenched to fists.
“You called me beautiful, Angel,” I say softly. “I been called a lot of things by a lot of women, but that’s a first.” My grin shows up again, twice as big as before. “So naturally I had to follow you across the Atlantic so I could make you say it to my face. Ingenious the way you exited Reynard’s place through the Chinese laundry down the block, by the way. I’m guessing it’s all connected by tunnels?”
She bites the inside of her cheek. Her fingers flex. She’s itching to wrap them around the hilt of one of her knives and slice me up like deli meat.
“Reynard—”
“Is perfectly safe.”
“How do you know?”
“How do you think I know?”
Another growl. She’s starting to sound like a grizzly.
