pushed past Sandy, who stared after him open-mouthed.
“Idiot,” she muttered and shut the door behind her. But Sam couldn’t figure out who she meant. Chad. Or him.
*
Her eyes fuzzy from reading the files for so many hours, Rosie stretched and realized Scott was standing at the door. He looked as tired as she felt. Not surprising considering the nightmares he was still suffering. She doubted he slept more than two hours straight in a night. Not that she’d been sleeping much better. The bed seemed so empty, so cold, without Sam beside her. But she didn’t buy this crap about having her move back into 1202 to keep her safe. He was pissed off that she’d gone to the Rouge behind his back.
“Hey, Rosie. There’s a guy here to see you. Said his name’s Spencer Harper.”
If Spencer was there, surely Thalia was close by. Just what she needed, the Dominatrix herself reaming her out. “Is there anyone else with him?”
Scott shook his head. “Nope, just Harper. You want me to tell him to beat it?”
She glanced at the files stacked in piles on the bed. They’d cleared all the usual suspects weeks before, but the latest spate of threats had them combing the files once again. “No, it’s all right. I needed a break anyway.”
Spencer stood in the hallway, Kris hovering between him and the monitors. Dressed in a pair of tan Dockers with a white shirt covered by a plaid sweater vest, he looked like he’d just gotten off a golf course. The memory of him tied to a bench while she flogged his ass, and how little she’d been wearing when he’d flogged her sent heat flying up her neck and into her face.
“Hi, Spencer, what’s up?”
He tucked a pair of sunglasses into his pocket. “I hope I’m not interrupting you, Miss Ramos, but Thalia would like to see you in her office right away.”
“I’m tied up right now.” The heat that had been dying in her face rebounded. Not the best way to phrase that considering their history. “Besides it doesn’t look like I’m going to be needing any more of Thalia’s training. But thank her-”
“No, it’s not that,” Spencer hurried to say. “I believe she has something about Mr. Watson’s stalker that she wishes to discuss. She was quite emphatic that you come with me.”
She didn’t want to face Thalia for what she was sure would end in a lecture about Sam’s needs, but she couldn’t ignore what might turn out to be the only lead they had. Might as well get it over with. Because she had a feeling that if she didn’t go with Spencer, Thalia would come to her. Besides, she had a thing or two to say to Thalia herself.
“Hey, Scott? I’m going out for a while, okay?” She snagged her purse and walked down the hallway, aware of how Spencer stayed precisely two paces behind her. Remembered the night he’d come to Sam’s apartment, and how wonderful it had been for part of that night. Right before everything went to shit.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A check of his watch showed him Troy wouldn’t be landing in Bogota for another seven hours. Seeking something to keep him busy while he waited, he meandered into the inner sanctum. Chad had stormed out right after their fight, and Sandy had disappeared. With Troy’s departure, the place was as quiet as a mausoleum.
Other than Scott, who had shown up a couple hours ago and was yakking on the phone at one of the spare desks, and Kris who was working out in the gym, the central office area was deserted. He wound his way through the IT area, eyeing the computer geek’s cubicles with their collections of action figures-Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings and a few SpongeBob SquarePants figures. Beyond them was a double set of revolving doors leading to the raised floor computer room. Which reminded him of tomorrow’s meeting with John Lake, the IT manager, to discuss enlarging the raised floor computer area yet again.
In the glass-enclosed area monitoring Hauberk’s client security systems, some of his employees yawned as they finished up the last hour of their night shift. The operators manning the main computer console had shut off the lights to the data centre, preferring to work in the eerie glow of their monitors.
What was he doing here? He had no excuse to keep him in the office. But he had no one waiting for him at home. Not now that Rosie had moved back to the other apartment.
It was better that way. Better that he not get more involved with her than he already was. But she hadn’t understood that.
Hell. He didn’t understand it. He missed Rosie. He missed her smart mouth. He missed watching that blue butterfly flutter when she walked naked to the bathroom. Or when it heaved in tumult while he drove into her from behind. He missed watching her sleep as she lay curled up beside him in bed. He even missed the straightening irons and diffusers and bottles of hair lotion cluttering up his bathroom counter.
But she was safe when she wasn’t around him. And that’s what counted.
“Hey, Sam?” Scott called moments before Sam entered the mantrap to the firing range. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” So much for working off his mood with his Glock. Damn he missed being out in the field. Being useful. But fate had proven he was better behind a desk than he was at protecting someone’s life.
“I found something I think you should see.”
Something in Scott’s tone got Sam’s attention. “What?”
Scott hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I think I might have found your stalker.”
While he should feel relief that he wouldn’t require babysitting anymore, finding the stalker also meant Rosie would request a transfer and he’d lose her completely. As if he hadn’t already set her on that path. “All right. I’m comin’.”
As they walked toward the desk Scott had been using, Scott explained, “We’ve been suspecting someone inside, right?”
Sam nodded.
“So earlier today, I noticed my computer updating a program all by itself. I thought maybe I’d been hacked so I called the IT guys. They told me all Hauberk computers have a bot program installed so the geeks can do updates without having to go to every computer. So it got me wondering…”
Sam stopped. “Are you tellin’ me someone’s hacked into our system?”
“No.” Scott shook his head. “The system’s secure. But I convinced the manager to give me access to run a search on everyone’s hard drives. Search for photos they’d uploaded. IM conversations they may have stored that might mention you. That type of thing.”
By this time they’d reached the desk. Scott turned the monitor so Sam could see the undoctored photo of him helping Cynthia Stewart from his Jag.
“Who’s computer was this on?” he breathed.
“Chad Miller’s.”
Sam stared at the screen. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Was Chad seeking revenge for Sam for leaving his sister in a wheelchair for the rest of her life?
But if Chad was seeking revenge, why wouldn’t he have just shot him years ago instead of going through this circuitous route? They’d been alone so many times when Chad could have killed him without witnesses. Like any one of the numerous times they’d been out on Chad’s boat, Chad could have dumped Sam overboard and no one would have been the wiser.
Or was killing Sam not Chad’s game? If he wanted revenge on someone, how would he best get it? By going after something they cared about, the nasty part of his psyche whispered.
He whipped out his Berry and speed dialed Rosie’s number. Damn it, no answer. “Rosie’s at the apartment, right?”
“Ah, no. Some guy named Spencer Harper came over earlier and picked her up. Told her Thalia wanted to talk to her at the Rouge. She went over there a couple hours ago.”
Dear God. No.
“We’ve got to get to the club. Fast.”
