And today she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
He did his best not to look annoyed by that platonic turn of events as Vivienne appeared just long enough to bid him an awkward goodbye.
He was on his feet the second the door closed behind her.
Her home office was as colorless as the rest of the place, and just as precisely organized. Everything in its place was a religion to Vivienne.
Wes’s eyes went straight to the wooden rolltop desk that had been converted into a twenty-first century workstation, and the empty laptop dock that sat atop it.
Viv had left with nothing but a small purse and a travel mug’s worth of caffeine this morning. Which meant that her computer was somewhere. He just needed to find it.
He went through the room with a meticulous hand—who said you couldn’t learn anything from a father who spent most of his time in jail?—careful not to disrupt Vivienne’s things in his search for the key to the online kingdom.
There was nothing, he realized, after he’d been through every filing cabinet and carefully stacked box in the joint. He’d even lowered himself to tugging open the desk drawer, in hopes she’d left an older model cell or abandoned battery that he could use to boot up his currently useless phone. Unfortunately, the only thing it contained was an impressive collection of Post-its, a box of paper clips, a stapler, a couple of pilfered pens and a USB drive emblazoned with the Whitfield Industries logo.
Wes shut the drawer with more force than he’d intended.
Shit.
The room was clean. And that could mean only one thing, he realized, stepping out of the office. His gaze snagged on the door at the end of the hallway.
The woman he’d known was a sentimental creature of habit, and he hoped, somewhere beneath her slick haircut and structured dresses, some of that woman still existed. Because that woman would have something hidden away that could help him.
Wes’s conscience reared up before he’d even put his hand on the knob.
If there was any other way, he promised himself. And then he opened the door and walked into Vivienne’s bedroom.
Her king-size bed dominated the room, and it took a good amount of effort not to let visions of her in it dominate his thoughts, as well.
Statistically, people were most likely to keep items that were of value to them in relatively obvious places. Under the mattress, for instance, or—he swung his gaze toward her antique dresser—in the sock drawer. But Vivienne wasn’t a statistic. At least not to him.
He turned his head again.
She’d always hidden his presents in the back of her closet. Even after she knew he’d cracked the location.
When he stepped inside, his hands balled into fists. Jesus. She had all her pretty underwear on display like a lingerie shop, and Wes swallowed against the surge of lust that swamped him. He remembered her, wrapped around him in the elevator, their bodies rocking in unison, the feel of her beneath him on the kitchen table as she took him to paradise, the way that only Vivienne could—with a naughty smile and total abandon. There’d always been something electric between them.
Wes shook off the memory.
With renewed determination, he forced himself to take in the scene before him. Everything was perfectly in place, color coordinated to within an inch of its life, folded, stacked and hung with precision...except...
His eyes lit on one of her purses, a pale pink one that was slightly askew. He reached past it, shoved a black shoebox to the side and hit pay dirt. Vivienne’s laptop.
The faster he figured out who’d gotten him into this mess, the sooner he could get himself out of it, and out of Vivienne’s orbit.
Wes pulled her bedroom door shut behind him and headed back to the living room, pausing to assess his options.
Tiger lily–less marble sex table? No.
The devil’s sofa? Hell no.
He settled for pulling an ottoman up to the coffee table and booted up Viv’s computer. Bypassing the fingerprint lock was easy. Setting up a bit of a smoke screen in case any eager-to-please FBI agents were monitoring her internet usage took a little longer. But in truth, the mindless task made him feel like himself again. He’d missed the work. The work cleared his head.
Even so, when he’d set up a secure connection for himself so he could make contact with the world’s foremost expert on his case, he hesitated for a moment before connecting the video call.
There was a lot riding on this, not the least of which was his freedom itself. He couldn’t think of anyone who hated his guts more than the hacker on the other end of the secret number that she didn’t know he knew. Except maybe Vivienne.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have the luxury of being discerning right now. Because if he’d had that luxury, he certainly wouldn’t be calling the woman who’d put him in jail out of blind loyalty to Max Whitfield, a man determined that Wes spend the rest of his days rotting behind bars.
With a deep breath, Wes connected the call. It only rang twice before she answered.
“Max, what are you...” The woman’s voice trailed off as she recognized him and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, you have got to be kidding. How the hell did you get this number? Max is gonna be so pissed when he—”
“Are you alone?” AJ was a rambler...a rare trait for an elite hacker, and he didn’t have time for it right now.
“What the hell does that mat—”
“Are you alone?” Wes repeated.
“Geez. Yes. I’m alone.” She scowled at him when he stayed silent, shoving her raven curls back from her forehead. “If you think I’m picking up this phone and showing you my place like some virtual real estate agent, you can go to hell. You’re the one wasting my time right now.”
Oh well. Worth a try. “Is this line clean?”
She crossed her arms over her black T-shirt. “That’s why you picked it, isn’t it?”
Fair point.
“I
