gaze flicked around the town house, still sporting the expensive furnishings Mom had favored and she couldn’t afford to replace. “Government’s paying some solid wages.”
“Anyway, I can’t just move.” She had no intention of getting into her personal finances—or her notorious background—with Cam.
“Kick her out.”
“She signed a lease.”
“How long?”
“Four more months. I think she’s gearing up to move out anyway.”
“I’m sure you’re counting the days.” He clapped his hands once and she jumped. “The emails?”
“Do you want a beer? Or something else?”
“Just some water.” He tipped his head at the door. “She doesn’t know about the messages, does she?”
“Casey?” Martha snorted. “No. She wouldn’t care, anyway. She’s in DC to sleep around and maybe snag a book deal, and she has a good start on both.”
“Who knew the capital was such a cesspool.”
“I hope you’re kidding.” She strode into the kitchen and reached for a glass. As ice dispensed from the fridge, Cam joined her in the kitchen, making the space feel claustrophobic.
“I am kidding, and I’m convinced someone, somewhere in this cesspool has it out for Major Denver.” He took the glass from her hand, his fingers brushing hers and giving her a jolt.
Leaning her hip against the kitchen counter, she tucked the hand behind her back. “Why would they have it out for him? Why frame him? By all accounts, he’s a good soldier.”
“The best and maybe that’s why.” He gulped down the water. “Maybe he stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have.”
“Again, that could point to a foreign entity.”
“I agree, especially after what you told me about the emails, which are...”
“On my laptop.” She brushed past him. “In my bedroom”
Leaving him in the kitchen, she jogged upstairs and pulled the door closed on Casey’s messy room. She ducked into her own room, swept her laptop from the desk and tucked it under her arm. By the time she got downstairs, Cam had settled on the sofa in the living room, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
She sat next to him and opened her computer. “I put them in a folder on my hard drive.”
“Where’s the flash drive? You copied them to a flash drive when you stole them, right?”
She tapped the keyboard harder than she intended. “I didn’t steal them. They were addressed to me.”
“Addressed to your CIA address, but I’m not judging. Hey, I’m glad you did steal...take them, but where’s the original flash drive?”
“It’s in a safe in the office.”
Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Cam asked, “This place has an office, too?”
“Yes.” She zipped her lip and double-clicked on the folder holding the emails. “Is that secure enough for you?”
“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to have the messages in two places. You’re doubling the opportunity for someone to take them.”
“Why would anyone else want them? The CIA already has them.” She pointed to her screen. “This is the first of the three emails I received.”
Cam moved in closer and his warm breath bathed her cheek as he read the email aloud, slowly. “‘Look at Major Rex Denver, Army Delta Force, and track his actions and communications. You will understand his behavior as treason. He has many contacts in region.’”
“Sounds stilted, doesn’t it?”
“Wow.” Cam slumped back and kicked one foot on top of her coffee table. “That’s enough to raise suspicion and get you investigated? Good thing nobody ever sent the CIA information about my activities.”
“There are two more emails with more details.” Her hand hovered over the keyboard. “Your activities?”
“Not treasonous. I’m just saying stuff happens in the field, and it’s better for everyone if it stays in the field.” His hand dropped to her head, and he messed up her hair with his fingers. “Don’t worry. I’m not doing anything to compromise national security—and neither was Major Denver.”
She jerked away from him with a scowl, smoothing her wavy hair back into place. “Do you mind?”
“Sorry. I have a younger sister, and I’m accustomed to teasing her.” He tapped the keyboard. “Next email.”
She huffed out a breath as she opened the second email. Great. The hottest guy she’d run into in months thought of her as a little sister. Typical.
Tipping the display toward him, she drew back and watched his profile as he digested the next message, his lips moving silently as he read it, his finger following the words. He must’ve read it a few times, as it took him a while to peel his eyes from the display. When he did, his jaw hardened and his eye twitched.
For all his carefree, easygoing ways, Cam really did care about Denver, and a strong desire to help him clear his commanding officer washed over her. She hated seeing anyone unfairly accused, and she’d had a feeling about these bogus emails ever since they landed in her inbox.
“Worse, huh?” She reached across him and opened the final email.
Cam took his time reading this one, as well, and when he finished, he punched the pillow next to him. “This is such garbage. All the CIA had to do was ask anyone who’s ever served with the major. Even now nobody in the field believes Denver was conspiring with terrorists.”
“Why’d he take off? Why didn’t he just face the music and prove his innocence?”
“It’s not supposed to work that way, is it? As a suspect, you don’t have to prove anything. It’s up to the prosecution to come up with the evidence to convict you. I’m guessing Denver recognized a setup when he saw one and figured the fix was in. There’s no fighting against that when evidence is fabricated.”
“He should’ve trusted the system.” She jutted her chin.
“Really?” He bumped her knee with his own. “Like you did? C’mon, even someone like you knows there are times when the system breaks down and you have to take matters into your own hands.”
“Even someone like me.” She drummed her fingers on the edge of the laptop.
He cleared his throat. “You know, someone who likes to follow the rules...which is usually a good idea. I’m not knocking it.”
“No offense taken. I have my reasons.” She shoved the computer from her lap to the coffee table. “I’m just wondering how someone knew to target me.”
“The CIA must’ve investigated the source of the emails. Let me guess. Fake IP address?”
“Yes, which they wrote off as coming from Dreadworm.”
“So the sender got a bunch of CIA email addresses from Dreadworm, picked one at random and sent out these lies about Denver? I don’t believe that for a minute, do you?”
“No, I think I was specifically targeted, but I don’t know why I’m being harassed now. I did what the sender expected and wanted me to do.” She shoved at her laptop with the toe of her boot.
“Because somehow they know you still have the emails, and they don’t like that.” He sat forward and dragged the computer to the edge of the coffee table. “You’re not quite the good little soldier they anticipated.”
“Serves them right.” She