Breach of Trust (7 page)

Was he missing something? And how come the thought of Meghan and Ethan coated his vision with green slime? “They got married about—”

Meghan practically growled. “I ought to knock him into next week.”

Whoa.
“What?”

“He's the one I went to when I...” She kept her focus carefully on the keyboard, though her clenched fists pressed into the desktop so hard Tate was afraid she'd split the laminate in two. “He wrecked my life with his advice. Advice he didn't even take himself.”

Her assertion made absolutely no sense. Unless...“Ethan told you not to get married? Who were you—?”

Her eyes glanced off his, something similar to panic skittering across them. “I know why Phoenix is after me.”

The sudden subject change whipped his thoughts around before snagging on his emotions. Forget jealousy. Forget whatever Ethan had done and whoever Meghan might have considered marrying. Her past relationship status wasn't relevant. At her confession he had one emotion. Anger. Anger and confusion. “And you didn't feel the need to tell me?” His voice refused to stay level. This was her secret? She had information on their hacker? He lifted his chin, his composure scattered like shotgun pellets on a distant target. “Why's he got his sights on you, Meg? I need to know. Now.” He ground the last word out in gravel.

“I've been tracking him for years.” Her voice was the audible version of black letters on white paper, and she kept her attention firmly on the screen in front of her. “I did work-study in the financial office in college and...” She glanced at Tate and seemed to consider something before she continued. “He stole the identities of some of the school's donors. He's cocky, left a signature so the world would know it's him. He used it yesterday in a message he sent right before you made an appearance. If you've got the code, I can confirm this is the same guy.”

Tate jerked his phone from his pocket and thumbed through a few screens, certain the pressure of his anger would shatter the glass. He shoved the device toward Meghan. “This came from a hack in Fort Campbell, Kentucky.”

She gave the phone a cursory glance. “Yes.”

Tate shoved his phone into his pocket and balled his fists, twitching his thumbs along his knuckles. If she'd been tracking Phoenix for years, it wasn't for kicks. It was personal. It was something soul deep, the kind of power that drove a vendetta. Identity theft alone wasn't strong enough to push a decadelong crusade. Meghan was leaving out key details of the story.

Tate wasn't sure which was worse: knowing Meghan was hiding things and had been for years or knowing Phoenix had been gathering resources for a decade or more. “What else?”

Meghan was silent, and fury tightened Tate's muscles. He didn't have all the time in the world to wait for her to speak. Phoenix could do anything, anytime. “McGuire. You will tell me. Now.”

Meghan jerked her head up, eyes flashing, but she didn't lash out the way he'd expected. “I kept tabs on him, watching to see if we'd crossed paths with him on any of our investigations. With his recent exploits, I think he's after more than an easy money score.”

She was right. Phoenix had already proven he was beyond something as petty as identity theft. The alternative was more than Tate could wrap his mind around. He needed to pull in his team and their resources. He needed to get close to the target again, before Phoenix accessed his funding and something worse than nightmares came to life. “Did he ever use those identities?”

“No. I tracked. He's held them all this time. After a while, I figured he got spooked and tossed them, that it was a one-off.”

“He's holding on to them until he needs them.”

“What would he be waiting for?” She looked him dead in the face, lips parted slightly in the same horrible realization Tate was coming to himself. “If he waits long enough, some of these people won't have donated to the university for years. When enough time has passed, he can use the information and no one will figure they all came from the same place. He's stockpiling.”

“If he's sitting on hundreds, possibly thousands, of identities he's collected over the years, he could pull in enough money in one week to finance anything he wanted. I've seen what this guy can do, and none of it is pretty. If he's after you, then he knows you found him out the first time and you've been watching. He may be eliminating anyone who knows what he's been doing.” But something didn't make sense. “Why try to take you instead of sending his assassin?” It was likely, if he was about to make a move, Meghan was better off to Phoenix dead. The thought sent an unfamiliar wave of fear through Tate.

“I don't know.”

Tate hadn't spent his military career learning to read people for nothing. Meghan was a strategist, a planner. They used to sit for hours hashing out their next move. Her lack of communication now spoke more than she ever could.

Meghan was still lying. She knew exactly what Phoenix was after. What was she not—

“There's something else.”

Do tell.
Tate waited, muscles tight.

“He's known all along who you are. Your cover was never safe.”

Adrenaline sent a wave of dizziness through him before he could catch himself. Once again, the game wasn't what he'd thought. Once again, the other team had read the playbook before they even took the field.

Fresh frustration blew a whole different fire through him. “How would you know?” The demand was low, but it carried the roar of a fighter jet.

“You said he seems to enjoy toying with the unit. He sent me a message, letting me know who he was right before you broke in. He knew I'd get away, knew you'd let me go. He didn't kill Isaac and his guys because they lost me. He killed them because he was cleaning up after Isaac's usefulness was tapped. Tate, you stared down the killer and he bolted. Why leave you alive?” She shoved away from the desk, ripping out the cords to the external drive as she shut down the computer with the other. “There's no good reason except one. He's playing a game. And we walked right into it.”

Tate moved instinctively for his gun. “Then we—”

From somewhere along the hallway, a door cracked open and footsteps echoed, edging closer.

SEVEN

M
eghan stood, reaching for her weapon as Tate took a position to the left of the door. Adrenaline shot through her in the face of impending confrontation. She steadied her nerves and waited.

“Meghan?” The female voice echoing through the hallway robbed Meghan's muscles of their readiness.

She holstered her weapon and tugged her T-shirt over it, waving a flat palm at Tate to stand down. “It's the principal.” Yvonne Craft had a habit of working odd hours, even on weekends, her responsibilities never ending.

Yvonne opened the door and strode in, her dark hair piled in a topknot, a Michigan State T-shirt over khaki shorts. She looked like exactly what she was: a school principal on summer break.

But her face...

Meghan held her ground, though she wanted to run. Yvonne was the most easygoing person Meghan had ever met. She'd hired Meghan fresh out of the army, even though Meghan's views on God didn't quite line up with the school's theology. As often as Yvonne had tried to convince Meghan that God cared about her daily life, Meghan had returned fire with the fact He'd never proven it.

Even then, Yvonne was rarely angry. The one time she'd ever worn an expression this stormy was when the school had been vandalized.

Meghan leaned forward, ignoring the way Tate stiffened as she eased closer to her friend. “Yvonne? Is everything okay?”

The other woman flicked a glance at Tate, then focused on Meghan. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was deeper than usual, weighted with anger...and something else.

Behind Yvonne, Tate straightened. He'd heard it, too. His gaze caught Meghan's with an unspoken question of what she wanted him to do.

Nothing. Something might be off the rails, but the principal wasn't a threat.

Still, Meghan slipped the external drive into her pocket, unwilling to fully explain. That would require telling Yvonne who Tate was, and that couldn't happen without blowing his cover even further. “I had to come in and—”

“You're no longer employed here.” Yvonne stepped closer, hand out, words sharp enough to leave scars. “Keys.”

Outside the army, this school was the only family Meghan had ever known, and now she was being forced out? Meghan's mouth opened but refused to produce any sound.

She focused on Yvonne and avoided Tate. If she saw even one trace of sympathy, Meghan would splinter. There was only so much a girl could take in twenty-four hours, and she had hit the valley. Hard.

Yvonne's open palm stayed between them, unwavering. “Keys.” She bit the word off as if it were acid.

“Is this because I resigned?” Meghan fished her key out of her pocket, hoping Tate and Yvonne wouldn't notice she was shaking. She'd faced armed gunman and fought grown men with nothing but her skills, but nothing had rattled her this way, one of her two closest friends ripping away from her for no discernible reason.

“It's because we have questions about what's been happening on our servers while you've been working here.” Yvonne's fingers closed around the key, knuckles whitening. “Leave, Meghan. Take your friend with you.” She stepped aside, clearing the path to the door. “And never come back.”

“I can explain what—”

“I'm sure you can, and I'm sure it would all be a lie. You can go now, Meghan.”

If it was going down this way, if Yvonne wasn't even going to listen to reason, then...fine. Meghan banked the wall around her heart even higher and kept her steps even as she marched down the hallway, even though she wanted to run for the woods and hide as though she were the little child she'd suddenly become.

Tate was right beside her, the only indication the incident had gotten to him the pace of his breathing. They hit the parking lot before he spoke. “Are you—”

She practically threw the truck keys at him, acknowledging she was in no condition to drive. She was too busy trying to hold together what was left of her world. “Shut up.” The command was tight, held together by rubber bands. If she said too much, she'd be crying into Tate's chest. Crying for Tate's pain, for Jacob Reynolds's death, for her own grief. And anger. At Yvonne. At Ethan Kincaid, who had counseled her to walk away, then violated his own cardinal rule.

The truck rocked when she slammed the door.

“I'm guessing you guys were friends.” Tate hesitated with the keys halfway to the ignition. “What happened in your office would throw anybody.”

Well, he knew only half of it. If Meghan had believed God had any interest in her daily life before, she no longer did. Today, He'd thrown the door wide to an assault on her body and soul.

But she wasn't going out without a fight. “Don't worry about it. Yvonne being mad I'm leaving all of a sudden is the least of my worries. We have to focus. We know we've been set up. Phoenix is probably waiting for our next move. I managed to upload the program that will follow Phoenix if he hacks in again, so this side trip was a success. If something is bothering me, trust me, it'll pass in the next two minutes.” It had to.

Tate watched the parking lot as he twisted the key. “Because you'll bury it.”

“Because I'll get over it.” He didn't get to psychoanalyze her. Nobody did. Nobody had yet loved her enough to earn the right. And nobody ever would. Especially once she did what she had to do now and Tate found out the truth about her involvement in the hack Phoenix had pulled off with her help. Knowing she had to confess her worst sin slammed the door on her tears, icing them in fear. He'd never trust her again, but with everything falling apart, she no longer had a choice.

“You can lie to a lot of people, Meg, even to yourself, but you can't lie to me.” His voice was low, the words strumming guitar strings in her heart, thrumming against those iced-over tears, threatening to shatter them. “I know you.”

He did. Better than Yvonne. Better than Phoebe Snyder. Better than anyone.

But he couldn't get close now, not with what she was about to say. She had to tell him. His investigation couldn't go any further if she kept protecting herself. “You're in danger because Phoenix wants me.” She had to confess, but the secret had been inside so long, the words were stone.

He shook his head, alternating between the road ahead of them and the mirrors behind them, watching for a tail. “No. You're in danger because he knows we're connected. If it weren't for us being—”

“It's not just the fact he stole identities and I knew about it.” She'd spilled that fact in the office in desperation because Tate was too close to figuring out why she'd left him behind. Now? Now she had to say the rest if they wanted to put an end to Phoenix's plan to pull the plug. “I did the hacking for him in college. He wanted the identities, and I gave them to him.” The dam cracked, confession pouring out. If Tate was in danger, he needed to know the whole story. Protecting him was more important than saving herself.

Plus he was right. She'd never been able to lie to him.

Everything about him stiffened, his muscles so tight she could almost feel them radiating tension. “You did what?” His profile hardened into chiseled granite. “You worked with him?” His voice was low, but the volume pitched higher quickly. Tate never lost his composure, but the lid blew off now in a contained explosion. “You hacked for a terrorist?”

“Not willingly. And I didn't know who he was.” Of course, ignorance didn't make any of this better.

“Talk.” The word was more than a demand. It was an absolute order. No refusal.

It didn't matter. She'd passed the point of being able to refuse, anyway. “In high school, I ran with the computer nerds. The gaming geeks. I learned how to hack. Little stuff when we were bored. A few of the guys were into tapping unsecured networks and stealing passwords so they could get extra cash. I was into the challenge, but not into the thievery. Where could I go and what could I see without being caught?” She shifted in her seat and tried to hold herself together. “I went some places even the president doesn't have clearance to go.”

Tate's jaw was tight, the lines on his forehead deepening. “That's how you got good enough to make it into the unit.”

Meghan nodded, her muscles relaxing. She'd expected dread, nausea...anything but the bizarre peace leaking in since she'd uncorked the cap and let the truth greet air. “When I was accepted to college, I stopped. I'd gained direction, knew I needed to keep my nose clean if I wanted to graduate and work with the army's tech, which was cooler than anything I could afford.” She kept a watch on the side mirror, not daring to face Tate while she told him the worst. “I took a job in the finance office to earn extra money.” A sudden pain seized her throat. She sank into the seat and turned her face toward the roof. “I got an email on my campus account, listing every detail of my higher-level hacks from high school.”

“Someone tracked you?”

Meghan nodded.

“How? Did you leave a signature behind?”

“No.” Most hackers were cocky and wanted the world to know what they'd done, especially when they'd cracked some of the systems Meghan had explored. But she'd been cautious, choosing to remain anonymous so no one could track her.

But someone had. “I don't know how, but they laid out about three-quarters of the major hacks, and they threatened to turn me in.”

Tate said nothing.

Meghan practically squirmed under the silence. It would be easier if he yelled. “He wanted me to tap the school's donor database and provide personal—”

“Phoenix is one of the best. Why not do it himself?”

“Maybe it was easier to blackmail me. Maybe he wasn't sure of his skills yet. This was years ago. He was probably just getting started.”

“Tell me you didn't do it.” There was no emotion to Tate's words. They were flat and matter-of-fact.

Meghan finally found the courage to look at him.

He was staring at her.

This was the hard part, when she got to watch the light of respect blow out right in front of her.

“I did it.” She fought the urge to reach across the console, to make contact and force him to understand. “If I didn't, he would have wrecked my life. I would have landed in jail. No way out. No future.” The excuses were weak and pathetic, like Meghan herself. She should have taken the punishment, should have challenged her blackmailer. But she hadn't. She'd been weaker then.

Tate kept his attention on the road, clasping the wheel so tightly the veins in his hands stood out.

Other than the time she'd been informed of his “death,” nothing in her life had hurt so badly as knowing her partner had lost faith in her.

“I'm sorry.” She was. And even though he hadn't been the victim, she needed to make it right to somebody. “I tried to track who sent the email, but it was a dead end, sent from a burner phone purchased with cash. The sender used a free email address that linked back to nowhere. It's stupid how easy it was for him to make himself untraceable. I drafted letters to each victim and told them there had been a security breach.” It had helped those people, but it hadn't assuaged her guilt or erased her crime. “I know—”

Tate sliced the air between them, attention focused on the rearview. “We'll have to deal with this later.”

Meghan's gaze instantly went to the side mirror, and years of practice kicked into high gear, yanking the pain from her confession. The white car three behind them...

They were being followed.

* * *

Which was worse: learning Meghan had lied to him for years or falling right into Phoenix's game yet again? Deep inside, the combination of hurt, anger and guilt burned so wildly, it had to be raising the temperature in the truck.

But everything took a backseat to the immediate problem of the car approaching from the rear.

Tate shelved his frustration and focused his attention on the road ahead, knowing Meghan would keep a watch on the vehicle trailing them. He had no choice but to trust her...for now.

She leaned forward, watching the side mirror. “White car?”

“He came up fast, then slowed as soon as he got within a few cars of us. He's matched me for lane changes ever since.” The guy wasn't even trying to hide. Normally, Tate would have said the driver was an amateur, but not now. When it came to this hacker, the rules went out the window. And what they thought they knew? They didn't. This could be a serious novice behind the wheel, or it could be a deadly setup.

Well, it was time to flip the script. Their tail probably expected them to run, but the heft of the pickup meant it was no match for a sports car at high speeds.

Not that it mattered. Tate was going to take this showdown head-on. “I need an exit without a lot of traffic. A road leading nowhere.”

“About five miles farther. If you hang a right off the exit, you can get a good distance off the road into some farmland.”

In spite of everything she'd laid on him, Tate's mouth tilted in a crooked grin. She knew exactly what he was doing. The ease with which they fell into routine almost made him want to forget her confession and beg her to return to work in the shadows.

With him.

Because no matter what she'd said about her past, he hadn't felt this right in years. He'd found God, but there'd always been something else, another hole aching to be filled. And he hadn't realized the emptiness was more than in his chest.

Tate jerked his head, shaking those thoughts to the wind. Now was definitely not the time. He had to focus on what they were doing, or he'd have them in a fiery crash before he could execute this plan. Wouldn't that delight Phoenix to no end?

“The driver's alone.” Meghan's voice brought him fully to the mission.

“You're sure?”

“Small car. Two seater. Unless he's got a buddy in the trunk, he's a one-man show.”

Finally, some good news. They outnumbered their pursuer.