swung her pack from her back and settled into a chair in front of a scrolling display of numbers and letters. “Did Dreadworm turn into a nine-to-five gig while I was busy programming?”
“Don’t bite my head off.” Amit ducked behind his screen. “I was just asking.”
“I think I was being followed.” She held her breath, waiting for Amit’s outburst.
He sniffed and wiped his nose with a tissue. “What else is new?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She leveled a finger at the crumpled tissue in his hand. “Do not leave that thing lying around. Nobody wants your germs…or your judgment.”
“I’m not sick. I have allergies.”
“Whatever. I’m getting tired of picking them up.”
“All right. All right.” Amit stuffed the thing into his front pocket.
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t answer me. You’re not worried that someone was on my tail?”
“You think someone was on your tail. When is someone not on your tail, Jerrica? Or trying to hack into your computer? Or peeping in your window at night?”
Blinking her lashes, she cocked her head. “They caught onto Olaf, didn’t they? Do you want to go into hiding like him? I don’t.”
Amit slumped in his chair and pushed his glasses to the top of his head, making his hair stick up. “What did you uncover last week that has you looking over your shoulder again?”
“I’m not ready to reveal it yet.” She double-clicked on the screen to stop the scrolling and entered another command.
“You don’t have to reveal it publicly, but you can tell me, Kiera and Cedar in the other office.” He circled his index finger in the air. “We work together. We’re coworkers, remember?”
“Coworkers?” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “We’re hackers. Olaf always wanted us to work on our own stuff. That’s why the two of us are here and Kiera and Cedar are…somewhere else. I’ll reveal it when I’m ready.”
Amit shook his head and attacked his keyboard. “You and Olaf are two of a kind. Do you know where he is?”
“Why would he tell me? Why would he tell anyone? It’s safer to keep to yourself.” She turned away and stashed her backpack under her desk.
“It might be safer, Jerrica, but there’s more to life than safety.” His long fingers hovered over the keyboard. “You wanna go to a party tonight with me and Kelly?”
“I have work to do.” She batted her lashes at him. “And, as you so kindly pointed out, I came in late.”
“I’m going to take off in about two hours. Are you sure you want to stay here by yourself?”
“I thought you weren’t concerned about safety? You were here by yourself.” She wiggled her fingers above the keys. “Besides, this is one of the most secure places in Manhattan—cameras, locks, motion sensors. I’m good.”
“The person supposedly following you didn’t see you come into this building, did he?”
“There was no supposedly about it, but no, he didn’t follow me here. I lost him.” She wrinkled her nose. “I gotta get back to what I was working on.”
“I can take a hint.”
The steady clicking from Amit’s keyboard indicated a dogged determination and concerted commitment. Amit might pretend that it was Jerrica who was the obsessed one, but the fire blazed in his gut just as hotly as it did in hers.
They each had their own reasons for their dedication to hacking into government systems and exposing the lies and corruption. Amit just did a better job of functioning in society.
She’d had a life once. She’d even had a boyfriend. Her nose stung and she swiped it with the back of her hand.
As if that was ever gonna work out.
After a few hours of companionable tapping, Amit pushed his chair away from the desk and reached both arms up to the ceiling that was crisscrossed with pipes. “I’m calling it a night. You sure you don’t want to hit that party with me and Kelly?”
“I’m on a trail, so close.” She grabbed the bottle of water she’d pulled out of her backpack earlier and chugged some. “But say hi to Kelly for me.”
“Yeah, yeah. She’s gonna give me hell for leaving you here by yourself.”
Jerrica choked on her next sip of water. “She doesn’t know we’re Dreadworm, does she?”
“Who do you think I am?” Amit yanked a flash drive out of the computer. “You?”
“That’s not fair.” She wound her hair around her hand and tossed it over her shoulder. “I didn’t tell anyone anything. He figured it out.”
“Yeah, the last person who needs to know about Dreadworm—someone in the military.”
Jerrica’s cheeks blazed and she pressed the water bottle against her face. “Maybe that’s why he was able to figure it out. He was Special Forces…is Special Forces.”
Amit crammed some personal items into his bag. “And he never told anyone?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Dude must’ve been crazy about you to keep that to himself.”
“Crazy about me?” Jerrica snorted. “Yeah, so crazy about me he dumped me.”
“Kinda hard for a guy in Delta Force to hang with someone who’s trying to expose all the secrets of the federal government.” Amit slipped his bag’s strap across his body. “Dumping you is the least he could’ve done. It could’ve been a lot worse.”
Jerrica pressed a hand over her heart and the dull ache centered there. “Don’t you have a party to go to?”
“Outta here.” Amit saluted and then tapped the monitor of the desktop computer. “Leave this running, please. I’m looking for some files connected to the attack on the embassy outpost in Nigeria. I know we didn’t get the full story on that one, and I programmed a little worm that’s chewing through some data right now.”
She eyed the flickering display on Amit’s computer. “See you later.”
When the metal door downstairs slammed behind him, she shifted her gaze to the TV monitors to make sure nobody slipped into the building before the door closed.
Could she help it if paranoia sat beside her and whispered in her ear day and night? She’d been raised on conspiracy theories—and so far nothing in her life had belied that upbringing, nothing had stilled those dark undercurrents that bubbled beneath the surface of every encounter she had—even the most personal ones.
Amit disappeared from the security cam and Jerrica jumped from her chair and hunched over Amit’s, folding her arms across the back and studying the data marching across the display. The attack on the embassy outpost in Nigeria had been on her radar, too. And not only because it involved someone she knew, peripherally, anyway.
Delta Force Major Rex Denver had played a significant role in the Nigeria debacle, as he’d visited the outpost days before the attack. He’d also, allegedly, played a role in the bombing at the Syrian refugee center, although the witnesses in Syria had been walking back that narrative for a few months now.
She drummed her fingers against her chin. And Denver’s name had come up again as she scurried down the rabbit hole of her current hunch—or maybe she’d been scurrying down a mole hole, if moles even burrowed into holes. Because she’d bet all the settlement money sitting in her bank account that the intel she’d been tracking was going to lead to a mole—possibly in the CIA itself.
Rubbing