Slipping into the back entrance of the hotel near his condo, he took the elevator to the business center. Logging on with the usual code, he quickly hacked into the Pratt website and database. There was a lot to be done in a short amount of time. In order to finish, eliminate any traces, he’d have to do the last of it from a remote location. He didn’t want any log-ons from any one place in the downtown area. Tonight he could drive out to the ’burbs. There was a cybercafe across the river in Camden that he’d used to good effect before. That would confuse things, to use a New Jersey address.
He had to be more careful now. No one should have been in the building to see him when he went to check Jameson’s office. That had been a narrow escape.
He hated to have to run.
His cell phone rang. He ignored it the first time, but when it chimed twice more in quick succession, he picked it up.
“Hey, baby,” she purred.
“Why are you calling me?” he hissed. He hated the whine. It made a red haze of anger rise within him. Just the sound of it made him grind his teeth. He’d started dating her after she was fired from the office, just to get information. She’d proved a useful tool, but she wasn’t what he wanted. It would be fun to flaunt her, though.
“Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”
Hurt silence replaced the whine.
“Don’t pout. I’m working, and you know it makes me short-tempered,” he said, attempting to soften his tone. He needed her. Besides, she liked to fuck.
“I do understand,” she said. Thankfully, the whine was gone, replaced by ridiculous hauteur. “Lose the temper and the attitude before you stop by.”
That was more like it. She didn’t realize how she betrayed her need for recognition, for attention, by that very attitude. He knew how to work that.
“Got it.”
“How long?”
“Two, maybe three hours.”
“I’ll be waiting. I’ll wear—” Throaty laughter purred through the phone’s small speakers, and he felt himself harden into instant desire.
That laugh always did it to him. Probably why he’d always wanted Torie, until Todd had gotten ahold of her. He would give anything to hear Torie laugh that way with him, need him.
Shaking off the thought, he focused on the words. Smiled. Felt a heightened arousal at the realization that he was the one in charge.
No one knew it. That just made it more delicious.
“You’ll come by—”
“I said,” he emphasized, “I’ll be there. Let me finish this, so I can come…to you.” He let the double entendre hang between them, tantalizing.
As he did it though, his fingers were flying over the keys, entering codes and inserting the specially designed virus to slowly erode the law firm’s source files. Within days, Paul Jameson’s files would disappear one by one.
They’d be able to reconstruct the list, if they had time.
He didn’t plan on giving them time.
Chapter Ten
With Paul’s help, Torie carried three trash bags of clothes out to his waiting car. Piling them in the trunk, she worried about how much they stank. Would she ever get them clean? A fourth bag contained her laptop, which she hoped would either still work, or that the hard drive would be salvageable.
Sorrels and Marsden, who had checked over and listed everything she’d removed, were locking up the house.
They came over to the car, eyeing the sleek, expensive vehicle, one with disdain, the other with admiration.
“Ms. Hagen, I think we’ll be able to release your house as a crime scene within the next few days. We’ve got a report to write, but other than that, it should be pretty routine. After that, you can start getting folks in here to help you clean up.”
“Thank you, Inspector Sorrels.” She glanced at the house, looked away. It was so forlorn. “Can I get the settee out of the trash pile? Start work on that?”
“Settee?” Marsden looked back at the soggy mess. “You think you’ll be able to salvage that?” Everything about his statement bespoke doubt that she could manage it.
“I need to try, Inspector. That’s been in my family a long time.”
He shook his head, but said, “Good luck. You can get it started, but don’t touch anything on the house until you hear from us. Got it?”
“Got it.”
They said their good-byes, and Torie climbed into the car. Before Paul closed her door, she saw him salute toward a distant, unremarkable Toyota SUV. The lights flashed but the car didn’t move.
Paul didn’t mention it when he got behind the wheel. Instead, he talked about Sorrels and Marsden.
“That was tough on you. Do you have any idea what they wanted? I mean, what they really wanted?”
“No, not entirely. They seemed focused on asking me where I was and what I heard. Sorrels seemed satisfied
