Authors: Elizabeth Bevarly
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #General, #Suspense
Overnight Male (6 page)
“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” Iris asked.
The question dispelled his troubled thoughts and replaced them with much nicer ideas. He was rather looking forward to this evening. He had his eye on a certain Swiss bank account he was hoping the boys could bleed dry.
Iris moved to the desk in the corner where Adrian’s laptop was folded closed and opened it. Again without asking permission. Again without Adrian minding. Much.
“It’s been a while since we did anything fun,” she added as she seated herself and tapped the mouse pad with her middle finger to bring the computer out of sleep mode.
As she began to type, Adrian set his snifter on a side table and strode across the room to stand behind her. Looking over her shoulder, he saw that she’d gone to the iTunes music store and pulled up information on a band he’d never heard of before. He had to remind himself he was only forty-six and in no way ready for the retirement home. But having spent the past few months with this group, he’d been forced to accept the fact that pop culture no longer catered to his generation. Actors, singers, dissidents, serial killers—they were all younger than Adrian these days. College students were making millions selling Web sites they designed on a lark, and the teenage offspring of bestselling novelists were hitting the lists even higher than some of their parents. Society was now geared to those who were younger, hipper, faster. The ones who required less sleep and more distraction, thereby ensuring that the entertainment industries made money around the clock.
Maybe he wasn’t old, Adrian thought, but he was older. And he was no longer a part of that demographic that
every
one wanted to attract. All the more reason to take as much as he could as quickly as he could. So that he could disappear on his own terms, instead of on theirs.
“We haven’t had fun for a while, have we?” he told Iris over the din of the still-arguing boys on the other side of the room.
He completed another step, an action that placed him immediately behind her, close enough that he could have settled both hands on her shoulders had he wanted to. Funnily, he realized he did want to. But he didn’t. Yet. Instead, he only gazed down at the crown of her head, scrutinizing the part in her hair that zigzagged across her scalp. He smiled when he found what he was looking for. There, very faint, he saw that her roots were blond. Very blond. Nearly white-blond. His grin broadened. He’d always had a predilection for blondes.
“You’re right—we should do something fun this evening,” he agreed as Iris began to download music from that band Adrian had never heard of onto his laptop. Without asking his permission. Not that he minded. Much. And although he himself had one or two additional ideas as to what that “fun” might involve, he decided to focus instead on his original plan.
For now.
I
RIS
D
AUGHERTY WAS MORE
than a little aware of Nick Darian’s nearness as he stood behind her and watched every move she made on his computer. Good. ’Bout damned time he started noticing every move she made, since she’d been watching his every move since the day Chuck had introduced the two of them. Even if he did have probably twenty years on her and dressed like a corporate drone. And even if he was interested in any of them only because they knew ’puters and didn’t mind overstepping the law. Kind of hard not to watch a guy who looked as good as Nick did, with that thick auburn hair and those amber eyes and those cheekbones sharp enough to slice tomatoes. And those shoulders that were broad enough to strain the seams of his shirt. And that waist just narrow enough for a woman to wrap her arms around. And a chest just perfect for that same woman to settle her head against.
Not that Iris had done any of those things to Nick. Not that she was likely to in the near future. But a girl could dream, couldn’t she? Hell, yeah.
She wondered—not for the first time—just what his story really was. He’d told them nothing about his past, and she’d known better than to ask. You didn’t have to have an IQ to rival Mozart’s—even though Iris did—to see the Do Not Enter signs Nick had posted all over himself. She only knew he carried a chip on his shoulder that was even bigger than hers—no easy feat, since hers was roughly the size of Rhode Island—and that he craved wealth and power (hey, who didn’t?) and that there was a ruthless quality about him that sometimes gave her pause.
Not that he scared her. She’d been spawned by a man far more ruthless than Nick could ever hope to be. Which, she hated to admit, might be the very thing that drew her to him. She would have sworn she was too smart to be attracted to men like her father. But since escaping—that was a much more appropriate word than
leaving—
home when she was eighteen, Iris had discovered that the world was full of grasping, possessive losers. And, unfortunately, she’d encountered more than her fair share.
Nick, though, wasn’t a loser. He was by far the most successful man she’d ever been attracted to. Hell, her father would probably even like him. Of course, since Iris hadn’t seen or spoken to that son of a bitch for eight years, it might be a little awkward when it came to introductions…
She pushed the unpleasant thought out of her head. There were infinitely better things to think about than her genetic family. Especially since the one she’d adopted on her own was so much better.
“I’m Sonic!” Chuck shouted.
“No, I am!” Donny countered.
“Nuh-uh! Me! I’m Sonic!” Hobie insisted.
Iris sighed and rolled her eyes. All right. So maybe she felt like the big sister to a bunch of snot-nosed, bratty little brothers. They were still better than the pack of wolves who had raised her.
“Stop being such a bunch of assholes!” she called out to the guys. To distract them, she scrolled through the songs she’d just downloaded, cranked up the sound on Nick’s computer and blasted them with the Offspring’s “Self-Esteem.” ’Cause, you know, they
were
a bunch of suckers with no self-esteem. Whoa, yeah.
Their reaction to the music was swift and powerful. All three guys jumped up from the Xbox and began to play air guitar. Iris blew out an exasperated sound that was almost identical to the one Nick emitted at the same time. When she looked over her shoulder at him, he smiled at her, and something in his expression made a river of hot, gooey deliciousness run through her, starting in her belly, seeping simultaneously up into her breasts and down between her legs. Her face went hot, her fingers curled closed over the keyboard and her lips parted slightly, because she suddenly needed more air.
She started to stand, halting when Nick dropped his hands to her shoulders and gently prevented her from rising. She noticed his cheeks were stained with red, too, and that his pupils had expanded to nearly eclipse the amber of his irises. Whatever she was suddenly feeling—and she was suddenly feeling
a lot—
he was feeling it, too. But he didn’t want the others to notice what was happening. So Iris stayed where she was, returned her attention to Nick’s laptop and tried to control her breathing.
Surprisingly, once Chuck and Donny and Hobie finished their concert, they didn’t go back to their game and instead strode over to the computer to see what Iris was doing. By then she’d managed to pull herself back together enough that she could pretend nothing had happened between her and Nick, even though she knew it would be a long time before she stopped trying to figure out what had happened between her and Nick. All she knew was that one minute the two of them had been sharing their frustration with the guys, and the next they’d been looking at each other as if they wanted to make a meal out of each other.
Oh, great. Now she was feeling that hot, gooey deliciousness between her legs again….
“So what are we doin’ tonight?” Chuck asked. Then he leaned over Iris and brushed her hand away from the mouse pad so that he could trace his own finger over it. “See if the new Brotha Lynch Hung download is available yet.”
Iris was about to slap his hand out of the way and go back to what she’d been doing, but Nick’s words stopped her.
“Now, Chuck,” he said in a contrived fatherly voice, “that’s very rude. I believe Iris was using the laptop for something else. Either ask her if it’s all right for you to intrude, or wait your turn.”
It was a small thing, Nick’s interceding, but Iris felt as if he’d just given her a diamond as big as the Ritz. No one had ever done anything like that for her before—acted as her champion. Even for so small a thing. A soft ripple of delight wound through her now that felt even better than the warm, gooey deliciousness of a moment ago. She sat up straighter in the chair, squared her shoulders and felt, for the first time in a long time—perhaps the first time in her life—like someone who deserved a little respect.
“Yeah, Chuck,” she said, preening like Gwen Stefani. “Wait your turn. Don’t be such a prick.”
Chuck’s mouth turned up at one corner as he emitted a small sound of disbelief. “Who the hell crowned you queen?” he demanded.
“I did,” Nick said. “And you’d be wise to pledge your fealty to her now.”
Chuck’s eyebrows shot up to nearly the plastic strap of his backward-facing cap. “My what?” he said, his voice tinted with unmistakable challenge. “I might want to do what with my what?”
Iris turned fully around in her chair now to look at Nick, only to find him staring back at Chuck with an expression that was a hundred times more intimidating than Chuck’s tone of voice had been. Chuck seemed to recognize it, too, because he immediately dropped his hand from the mouse pad and took two steps backward, away from Iris.
“Pledge your fealty,” Nick repeated. “It’s what intelligent men in far more violent times than these used to do to ensure their survival.”
“Uh, okay,” Chuck said. He looked at Iris. “Iris, whatever the hell fealty is, I pledge it to you.” Then he turned back to Nick. “Satisfied?”
Nick smiled a very dangerous-looking smile. “Not by a long shot,” he said. “But you’re learning, Chuck. Something I find rather amazing.”
Before Chuck could reply—not that he seemed to have any idea what to say—Nick effortlessly switched gears, as if they’d never been off topic to begin with.
“Tonight we’re going to try something new,” he told the others. “Because I have it on good authority that we may be having company soon. Evidently our activities have raised some flags at that government organization I told you all about, and they may be sending someone in to check us out. So over the next week or two, perhaps even the next few days, if you encounter anyone who seems in any way suspicious, or anyone who asks a lot of questions, I want to hear about it, all right?”
Everyone nodded their assurance that they would, Iris included. Not that she for a moment believed they had anything to worry about. She’d decided a long time ago that Nick’s certainty that their little group was being watched was, at worst, paranoia and, at best, a manufactured threat to keep them all in line. Chuck and Donny and Hobie were of the same opinion, though none of them would ever say so to Nick’s face. Nick didn’t realize how good they all were when it came to hiding their tracks. The four of them had been wreaking havoc on the Net a long time before Nick showed up. The guys might be a bunch of slackers in a lot of ways, but not when it came to gaming or computers. And Iris was better even than they were.
But it seemed to make Nick less antsy when they went along with him, so they did. The Cold War had still been in full swing when he was born, and he was old enough to remember things like Vietnam and the Berlin Wall and all that Communist crap. To the rest of them, that was the stuff of spy novels. It just didn’t ring true in this day and age. Not that Iris and the guys doubted for a minute that there was a boatload of conspiracy and government corruption across the board. It was why Nick’s plan to take the planet hostage didn’t bother any of them much. Well, that and the fact that taking the entire planet hostage felt like one big computer game.
“Sure, Nick,” Chuck said. “We’ll keep our eyes wide open.”
When the other guys murmured similar sentiments, Nick turned to look at Iris. “And you, Iris?” he asked. “Can I count on you to keep me informed?”
“Sure,” she said. “You know me, Nick. I always do what you tell me to.”
This time he was the one to nod. Then he smiled the smile of hot, gooey deliciousness again. “Yes, you do,” he murmured softly. Sweetly. Seductively. “It’s just one of the many,
many
things about you, Iris, that I like.”
W
AVERLY
C
OLLEGE
, L
ILA
discovered the moment the campus came into view, was nothing short of a picture postcard, nestled on the banks of the Ohio just outside Cincinnati. With the rolling green hills of Kentucky behind it and the limitless blue sky above, it was a collection of short, redbrick buildings scattered under towering oaks and maples that were just beginning to go green. It looked little like a cutting-edge technology school, reminded her instead of movies about English professors who taught their young students lessons about life that lurked in the subtext of classic literature. Surely she would run into Mr. Chips and Mr. Keating if she spent any length of time on campus.
Of course, the point was to spend as little time as possible on campus, she reminded herself as she and Joel cruised the college grounds in a car that was small enough, old enough and battered enough to pass for credible student wheels—and was nondescript enough to simply pass. The sooner they brought in Sorcerer—and whoever he’d found to help him do his dirty work—the better. Not just to ensure the domestic tranquillity of the planet, but to ensure her own peace of mind by parting ways with Joel Faraday quickly and efficiently and completely.
The past thirty-six hours had been a jumble of new and unusual—and not especially wanted—feelings for Lila. The small measure of camaraderie she and Joel had achieved during their ride to catch their flight had evaporated almost immediately after the jet left the ground. Because that was when he started briefing her on more of the assignment, and she’d been forced to remember that it was he who was in charge of the operation, making him her superior, even if only temporarily. And she knew better than to get involved with someone in his position. Even temporarily.
She knew that from experience, in fact. Once, years ago, Lila had succumbed to an attraction she had for her immediate superior in OPUS. They’d been working together on a very dangerous assignment, had survived—barely—a very perilous situation, and they’d allowed their overwhelming relief at their survival to manifest itself sexually. They’d both realized immediately that they’d made a colossal mistake, and neither had made any effort to repeat it. They’d even gone out of their way to avoid each other for a long time afterward. It had taken years for the two of them to be comfortable in the same room again, but they’d finally managed to reach a point where they were genuinely friends again.
Good thing, too, since the man in question, Noah Tennant, was now engaged to Lila’s sister, Marnie. Sorcerer hadn’t been the only one to mistake Marnie for Lila in Cleveland. All of OPUS had, until Marnie had convinced them otherwise. Then, in the same way Lila’s partner Oliver had tapped Avery Nesbitt to aid their investigation of Sorcerer, Noah had recruited Marnie. She’d been trained by OPUS to pose as Lila in an effort to lure Sorcerer out of hiding. Had Lila not finally come in out of the cold, it would be Marnie, not Lila, working with Joel right now.
That was what had brought Lila in out of the cold, in fact. She hadn’t wanted her sister to be placed in danger any more than she already had been. All Marnie should have to think about was starting a new life with Noah, and her only worry should be planning the wedding. Catching Sorcerer was Lila’s job, Lila’s responsibility. And Lila would do it by the book, at least where her position and Joel’s were concerned.
Joel had evidently arrived at the same conclusion, because ever since they’d climbed aboard the plane in D.C., he’d adopted a more professional, more distant demeanor. Gone was the lighthearted banter they’d shared. Gone were the playful, speculative looks. Now they were back to a wary tolerance of each other, which, Lila told herself, was exactly where the two of them needed to be.
Gone, too, in effect, were Lila and Joel, since both had dropped into their undercover personas since their arrival in Cincinnati. Because it was easy for her to pass for a woman a decade younger, Lila would be posing as a graduate student named Jenny Sturgis who was working on a master’s degree in computer engineering. She’d colored her blond hair dark brown and trimmed the front to give herself long bangs. Brown contacts hid the normal blue of her eyes. To further conceal her appearance, she’d added extra-dark Avril Lavigne–type eye shadow, and she’d used cosmetics to fill in her usually high cheekbones and round out her normally aquiline nose. Jenny bore very little resemblance to Lila, but she still managed to be smokin’ hot, something that should be advantageous in attracting not just Sorcerer, but anyone he might have recruited to aid him in his quest for—cue the over-the-top villain music—global domination.
Joel would be posing as Jenny’s live-in boyfriend, Ned Collins, with whom she was having a rocky on-again, off-again relationship—currently in the
off
position. Lila had thought up the on-again, off-again, currently
off
thing all by herself and was pretty pleased with it. Joel not so much. Nevertheless, he’d seen her point that college guys flocked around girls who were in floundering romances, hoping they might recoup the spoils. Of course, that wasn’t why Lila had suggested the addition to the script. She’d suggested it because it would give her more opportunity to snipe at Joel.
OPUS had secured living quarters for them in downtown Cincinnati, in an apartment building that catered to older married Waverly students. It was only two blocks away from a coffee shop that also deserved a closer look, thanks to its ties to some intercepted Sorcerer e-mails. OPUS had arranged for Lila to work there in a very part-time position so that she might observe both the patrons and the employees. She would investigate the computer lab in the Waverly library for the same reason.
She had a ratty backpack laden with enough textbooks and products beginning with a lowercase
i
to make Jenny totally credible, and was as good to go as she would ever be. The sooner they found Sorcerer, the better. She had a wedding to go to, after all. As the song said—sort of—for God’s sake, get her to the church on time. Or at least to the majestic Nesbitt estate in the Hamptons, since that was where Oliver and Avery would actually be tying the knot. In less than two weeks. So the clock was ticking. Not that Lila needed to be reminded of that.
“It’s too bad we couldn’t coordinate this at the beginning of a semester,” Joel said from the driver’s seat as he wheeled the car into a parking space near the university bookstore.
He was dressed appropriately for Ned, in battered khakis and a rumpled, untucked white shirt that complemented nicely Lila’s snug ripped jeans and even snugger long-sleeved, olive-drab T-shirt. That was as far as he’d needed to alter his appearance—not that that altered his appearance in any way—since his face wasn’t one that was recognized outside OPUS. His long dark hair was swept back from his forehead the same way it had been that first night Lila met him, and his dark eyes, though hidden at the moment by sunglasses, still reminded her of bittersweet chocolate.
“What difference does it make when we start?” she asked, pushing memories of that first night out of her head, because thinking about it made her want to think of little else. “As long as we finish as soon as we can?”
“Several of Sorcerer’s e-mails went to sorority houses,” he told her. Behind the sunglasses, Lila knew, he was surreptitiously scanning the parking lot as he spoke. She was, too, but she was good enough at doing it that she didn’t need sunglasses to hide what she was doing. “There’s one in particular we’d like to check out,” he added. “There’s a fraternity we’re interested in, too, but I think you’d have better luck infiltrating the former.”
She chuckled at that. Not the part about her being unable to infiltrate a fraternity—for her that would actually be easier—but she could definitely see Sorcerer targeting a sorority. Mostly for the scantily-clad-pillow-fighting-coeds potential.
“It’s just as well,” she told Joel. “My talents as an actress only go so far, and sorority girl isn’t a role I could pull off.” She grinned as she added, “Even if it would have, like,
totally
filled the empty place I’ve always had inside me because I, like,
totally
missed out on Greek life in college. I could have, like,
totally
used a bunch of friends named Muffy and Bitsy and Pepper.”
He pulled down his sunglasses far enough to meet her gaze eye to eye. “You’re right,” he said. “You suck. I never met any sorority girls who talked like that.”
“Hey!” she objected. Even though she had, like,
totally
asked for it.
“Don’t knock Greek life till you’ve tried it,” Joel said, returning his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. “Some of us have very fond memories.”
Lila told herself she shouldn’t be surprised by his revelation, but she was. He didn’t seem like the wild fraternity animal. Unless…
She smiled. Still adopting her best Muffy/Bitsy/Pepper voice, she said, “Shut
up.
You were, like, a frat boy? A smart guy like you? You must have been, like, one of the
geek
Greeks, weren’t you? Ohmigod, that is, like,
so stinkin’ cute.
”
He said nothing in response at first, but even in the windshield-tinted sunlight filtering through the windows, Lila could see his cheeks turn ruddy. Good God, he could blush. She didn’t think she’d ever met a man who even had the capacity to do that, never mind the propensity. Then she realized it was because she’d embarrassed him with what she’d said.
“Eta Kappa Nu,” he said in a voice that revealed nothing of what he might be thinking or feeling. “Alpha iota chapter. Georgetown.”
Oh, not embarrassed, she realized then. Angry. He thought she was making fun of him. Which, she supposed, she was. But OPUS agents always did that to each other. Teasing and making fun were one of the best ways to alleviate the tension that went along with undercover work. Of course, having never worked undercover, Joel wouldn’t know that, she reminded herself. Nor would he be used to it.
Before she had a chance to apologize, however, he continued, “It was the fraternity for electrical and computer engineering students, the most intelligent guys on campus. They never would have rushed you, even if you
did
have the balls you seem to think you have.”
Oh, so the archivist could give as good as he got, could he? Lila thought, surprised. Fine. She just wished she could tell if he’d been joking or serious with the balls comment. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt and go for joking, she replied, “So then I guess you guys didn’t have a lot of raging keggers where you slipped roofies to the freshmen girls, huh? Your idea of a swingin’ Saturday night was probably a couple of twenty-sided dice, downloading pictures of Teri Hatcher from the Internet and putting on Spock ears.”
“As opposed to those of you at UNLV who spent the weekends doing…what?” he quickly retorted, not sounding particularly jovial—alas. “As far as I can tell from your file, the only thing you did in college besides attend class was work your ass off at three jobs. Hell, at least I had friends and fun when I was in school.”
Okay, that crossed the line, Lila thought. Maybe her college years hadn’t been filled with enriching extracurricular activities, but she hadn’t viewed college as an opportunity to make friends and create memories. College had been her escape from ending up like her mother—poorly educated, lacking in self-esteem, the constant victim of one scummy son of a bitch after another. For Joel to call Lila friendless and joyless during that time wasn’t teasing and making fun. It was hitting way too close to home.
It was also falling out of his Ned persona, she thought further, which, all right, they’d both kind of been forgetting to maintain ever since they started talking. But it was for
that
reason and no other that she immediately put them back on course.
“I didn’t attend UNLV, I attended Ball State,” she said quietly, since that was how Jenny Sturgis’s phony transcripts read. “I’ve never been to Las Vegas in my life. I grew up in Indiana and my parents, Phil and Doreen Sturgis, still live there. You obviously have me mistaken for someone else, Ned Collins. Strange, since you and I have been living together for two years now.”
As she’d spoken, Joel’s features had gone slack and his cheeks had grown ruddier. He was obviously as chagrined as she to have forgotten the role they were both supposed to be playing. At least he had an excuse, Lila thought. He wasn’t accustomed to being someone else. She’d been playing parts all her life—even before she started working for OPUS. Normally, once she was in character for an assignment, she stayed there without even having to think about it. Why, suddenly, was she forgetting to do the most basic part of her job?
“Besides,” she added, still striving to be Jenny but unable to keep herself from saying what she had to say, “some people have to work three jobs to pay tuition and living expenses, since scholarships only go so far. Of course, other people, people like, say, the son of a senator and a newspaper heiress, probably wouldn’t know much about scrimping and saving and working his ass off to survive.”
Joel said nothing in reply, only studied her in silence for a long, taut moment. Then he started to lean toward her. For one insane moment Lila thought he was going to hit her, and she reacted instinctively, jerking her head backward and throwing her arm up to shield herself. At the same time Joel reached behind the passenger seat where she was crouching to retrieve a clipboard he’d placed there when they first entered the car.
He halted just shy of reaching it when he must have realized why she’d reacted the way she had. He didn’t retreat, but he removed his sunglasses, his mouth falling open in disbelief. She immediately dropped her hand and relaxed, but there was no way to explain her reaction as anything other than what it was. So she only turned her head to look through the windshield and said nothing.
“You honestly thought I was going to hit you?” he asked, his voice as incredulous as his expression had been.