Exploited (Zero Day #1) Read online

  If a pile of shit had a face, it would look like Chaz Edwards.

  I hadn’t bothered to lob a biting remark back, knowing it wouldn’t make me feel any better.

  I had left the debriefing and gone back to my desk, spending the rest of the afternoon working with two other guys on the cybersecurity team, trying to sift through possible suspects.

  And getting nowhere.

  Always nowhere.

  I felt like punching something. An unfamiliar anger rose up inside of me and it paralyzed me. Left me numb. I wasn’t used to feeling inept. Out of control. The ease with which the rage took root worried me.

  I had always been able to do my job and do it well. I was focused. I was typically filled with a self-righteous indignation that propelled me to find the bad guys and put them away.

  But this time was different.

  Because I couldn’t find the bad guy.

  It pissed me off to nuclear levels.

  I took a deep breath and tucked in my shirt. Tonight was about letting go of all that and enjoying myself.

  I needed it.

  This would be different from going home with Madison because I would be going into it with my eyes open. With my feet firmly on the right side.

  There wouldn’t be mistakes.

  There wouldn’t be hurt feelings.

  I’d make sure things with Hannah were entirely on the up and up.

  And just maybe we could both find something we were looking for.

  “Wish me luck, Tig,” I said to the traitorous animal currently making a bed in the middle of my pillow. He didn’t bother to look at me.

  —

  “Here with a minute to spare. I’m impressed,” Hannah commented, opening her front door. I handed her the bouquet of flowers that I had picked up over lunch and had left in my car.

  They were a little on the wilted side and one of the roses had lost its head. I felt like groaning. I really was a shitty date.

  I smiled anyway. “I think I broke a few traffic laws to get here on time.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Agent Kohler. Shouldn’t you know better?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Sorry about the flowers. They were much prettier when I picked them up earlier.” I let out a noisy breath. “I’m not really doing a lot to win brownie points with you, am I?”

  Hannah beckoned for me to follow her inside. “I can’t remember the last time someone gave me flowers. So battered or not, I love them,” she said with obvious sincerity. “Come on in. Let me find a vase quickly and then we can leave.”

  I followed her down a narrow hallway into an open-plan living room. I looked around, taking in everything quickly. You could read a lot about a person by the things they surrounded themselves with.

  But Hannah’s weren’t saying a whole lot about her. My eyes flitted around, taking in the lack of personal touches. There were no photographs. Nondescript artwork hung on the walls. Bland throw pillows. No rugs or anything to give the room color.

  It felt like a hotel room, not a house. Without character.

  I glanced at the woman I was taking out and tried to connect her to this space with such a lack of personality.

  She was dressed rather conservatively in a knee-length black skirt and a pale pink top that didn’t dip too low. Just low enough. Her dark brown hair was held back in a clip and she wore very little makeup, if any. A silver chain hung around her neck, with a small locket resting in the hollow of her throat.

  She was attractive. There was no doubt about that. But far from my normal type. Not someone I would have noticed if she hadn’t dropped her bag in front of me yesterday morning.

  In the past I had tended to find myself drawn to the conventionally beautiful. The big-breasted, curvy-hipped women who gave me exactly what I was looking for. No strings, easy sex. Madison had broken that mold with her demands and expectations, and that hadn’t gone well at all.

  Hannah seemed different. She was unassuming. Low-key. I hoped my initial impression wasn’t wrong.

  Another failed hookup might send me into hiding.

  “You seem a little flustered. Rough day at the office?” she asked as she pulled a glass vase from the cabinet above the sink and filled it with water. There was a clear view of the kitchen from the living room. Nowhere to hide.

  “Aren’t they all?” I replied, running my hand along the back of the beige couch.

  There was a TV in the corner. Small. Not even a flat screen. There were a few DVDs piled beside it and I found myself wandering over to have a closer look. I was conditioned to be nosy.

  Nothing too telling. Batman Returns. Jurassic Park. And a random rom-com starring Ryan Gosling that I had never seen.

  “See anything you like?” she asked, and I quickly put down the movie I was holding.

  “Interesting collection of flicks you have here. So are you an action buff or a die-hard romantic?” Nothing too probing. I moved toward her and she circled away from me, carrying the vase of flowers to the coffee table.

  “Maybe a little of both. People can be lots of different things, don’t you think?” She continued to inch away. I continued to follow. Like a dance.

  “Absolutely. I’ve learned in my life that we are never just one thing,” I countered. Hannah nodded, liking my answer. She carefully placed the vase in the exact center of the table.

  “So tell me about your day. You are definitely frazzled,” Hannah coaxed.

  Here we go….

  The inevitable poking and prodding.

  “What makes you think I’m frazzled?” I asked, curious. She didn’t know me. I made a habit of hiding how I was feeling.

  Hannah indicated my foot, tapping an irregular beat against her carpet. I hadn’t realized I was being so obvious. It wasn’t like me. The day had gotten to me more than I had thought.

  I immediately ceased the repetitive action, running my sweaty palms along the front of my thighs, drying them.

  “Maybe I’m just nervous about you,” I suggested with a sly wink. I tried to get myself back in a place I felt in control.

  Hannah raised her eyebrows, nonplussed. “You really can’t say a word about your job, can you?”

  I shrugged. “Well, I can tell you that I had a chicken panini for lunch and my partner, Perry, wears really bad aftershave that stinks up the whole room.”

  She moved the flowers around, putting the roses up front. The room was thick with quiet. I could hear a clock ticking somewhere but couldn’t see one on the wall.

  I continued to look around the small space, noting a very expensive laptop on the kitchen table. Definitely not personal grade. She had mentioned that she also sat in front of computers all day. Maybe she was some sort of techie.

  “What’s so bad about his aftershave?” she asked, drawing my attention back to her. I was glad she didn’t seem too concerned about my lack of disclosure.

  “He smells like a frat guy trying to get laid. It’s horrible.” I watched her. She watched me. We were both trying to be subtle about the watching. And failing miserably. “Someone left a different bottle of cologne on his desk a couple of weeks ago, but he hasn’t taken the hint. He just thought he had a secret admirer.”

  Hannah giggled. It was an appealing sound. Light. Not too strained. Genuine.

  “Poor guy. You almost have to feel sorry for someone that oblivious.”

  “It’s kind of hard to feel sorry for Perry. Have you ever known someone whose entire demeanor grates on your nerves?”

  I crossed the room to stand beside her, helping her into her coat. Touching her whenever I saw an opportunity. And she seemed to like it. She leaned into me without hesitation. So easily. It did wonders for my ego.

  “Not really. I tend to keep to myself at work. Though one of the guys in my office likes to eat spicy Indian food for lunch and always smells like day-old curry by the afternoon.” She shuddered and I laughed. “But don’t be too hard on Perry. He might be a nice guy if you give him a chance. Sometimes it just takes a little patie
nce to get to the heart of a person.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Patience isn’t my strong suit, though in my job I should have learned it by now.” I liked watching her, though I tried not to be too creepy about it. “So where do you work, Hannah?”

  Time for the basics.

  I hadn’t dated in a long time. Not since starting my career at the Bureau. I was more than a little rusty when it came to Dating 101. I wasn’t even sure I could remember how to make small talk without sounding like an asshat.

  “I work as an admin for a bratty CEO. Nothing fancy like FBI agent, I’m afraid,” she remarked lightly. But I noticed a slight stiffening of her shoulders. Her lips thinning marginally. Her eyes narrowing.

  Most people wouldn’t have noted the change.

  I wasn’t most people.

  I knew how to read people. My instructors at the academy had said I had an instinct, which was unusual for a guy who spent most of his life behind a computer screen.

  “Bratty CEO? Which one? Maybe I’ve heard of him.”

  Hannah flicked a strand of hair out of her face. “Brandon Healey. He’s with Western Railways,” she replied quickly.

  I wasn’t familiar with Western Railways. It didn’t have anything to do with my particular line of business.

  “What makes him so bratty?” I asked.

  “Just a big pain in the ass. The type that throws a fit if there’s not enough cream in his coffee,” she replied breezily.

  “Sounds like a real winner,” I said with a snicker, and she giggled. “I thought you said you sat behind a computer all day. I got the impression you did something in IT. Especially seeing as you have some serious machinery on your kitchen table.”

  Hannah’s mouth pinched and she glanced toward her laptop. “I do spend most of my day sitting at a computer dealing with Mr. Healey’s stuff. That’s all I meant. And I like messing around with computers for fun. I splurged on that laptop as a treat to myself.”

  I guessed that made sense. We headed toward the front door. Hannah seemed in a rush to leave now.

  “I had a boss like your CEO when I worked for a tech firm after graduation. He was a piece of work.”

  That got Hannah’s attention. “A tech firm? What did you do there?”

  “Oh, you know, this and that. I have to admit, I’m a real tech nerd. I was the dork who would write script for fun on the weekends,” I replied, surprising her. Surprising me.

  We walked out of her house and I waited while she locked the door. I opened the passenger-side door of my car and waited for her to get in. She stopped, looking up at me. “What kind of techie ends up at the FBI?” she asked, interested.

  “The kind that works in cybercrimes,” I explained. Wow. I was laying it all out there. What was going on with me? I usually waited until after drinks before giving someone a taste of my life story. The severely edited version, of course.

  Hannah’s eyes widened, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She seemed more comfortable than she had been a few minutes earlier. I wondered why.

  “Cybercrimes? Really? That’s got to be so fascinating!” she enthused, her voice a touch too high.

  “Not really. It’s nothing like you see on TV. Trust me.” I needed to change the subject. Quickly.

  “Nothing is ever what it seems, is it?” she asked. An odd statement but a true one. Our eyes met for a moment and there was a strange sort of understanding between us. As if both of us had a lot of practice in dishonesty.

  I didn’t bother to answer her. The question didn’t seem to require it.

  Hannah slid into the seat and I took a moment to appreciate the view of her smooth legs as she tucked them into the front seat.

  I walked quickly around to the driver’s side, almost tripping over my own feet in my haste. I wouldn’t be earning any cool points for face-planting in front of her on our first date, that was for sure.

  I got into the car and gave her a smile. She returned it. My body instinctively reacted to the smell of her filling the small, confined space. The way her chest rose and fell. My eyes zeroed in on all the normal parts of her.

  I was a red-blooded male, after all.

  And I liked what I saw.

  Even if she wasn’t my normal type, she was a woman I found physically attractive.

  “I made reservations at a steak house in town,” I told her as I pulled out onto the road. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “I’m a vegetarian, actually,” Hannah responded neutrally.

  My face blazed red. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I should have asked. We can go somewhere else—”

  Hannah started to laugh. “I’m messing with you, Mason. I’m not a vegetarian. A nice bloody steak sounds damn near perfect, actually.”

  I relaxed, glad that I hadn’t made another first-date faux pas.

  “Thank God. Because I don’t think I could handle one of those tofu places. I need meat on my plate.”

  “Mason likes meat. Good to know,” Hannah remarked drily.

  “I’m secure enough to admit it,” I replied just as drily.

  Hannah smirked as she reached for the radio dial. She glanced at me, her eyes questioning. “Do you mind?”

  I shook my head. “Be my guest.”

  I remembered too late about the CD in the drive. Hannah’s eyes widened in shock when the soundtrack to Les Misérables blasted from the speakers.

  Hannah glanced at me. “ ‘I Dreamed a Dream,’ huh? Glad it’s not the Susan Boyle version, at least.”

  “I should lie and tell you that it came with the car. Or that I was giving my cousin a lift and she’s a fiend for musicals.” I kept my voice light, hoping to hide my mortification.

  Hannah crossed her legs, the skirt riding up her thighs. “But then we’d be starting things with a lie and that’s not right, is it?” she asked just as lightly.

  I glanced at her and nodded. “No, that’s not right.” Her eyes were clear. I couldn’t read anything.

  It bothered me.

  It excited me.

  What would this pretty woman have to hide, anyway?

  “Yeah, it’s mine. I admit it.”

  Hannah grinned. “I’m glad you’re proving to be nothing like what I expected.” She turned up the volume.

  “Oh yeah? What did you expect me to be like, then?”

  She recrossed her legs. Her bare skin was making it difficult to concentrate on the road in front of me. She ran her hands down the length of her thighs, resting them on her knees. “You drive a Lincoln Continental that looks like something a hustler would drive—”

  “Now, don’t start insulting ol’ Lucy,” I warned good-naturedly.

  A cocked eyebrow. Another husky chuckle. “Ol’ Lucy?”

  I patted the steering wheel. “She and I have been through a lot. It seemed only right to give the pretty lady a name. We’ve got to treat her with respect.”

  “Why ‘Lucy’?” Her wry smile was contagious.

  “Just rolls off the tongue, I think.” I grinned. “Sort of like ‘Hannah.’ ”

  I was laying it on a little thick, with an emphasis on the cheese factor, but Hannah seemed to dig it.

  She chuckled and shook her head. “What a line. You’re full of those, aren’t you?”

  “Just one or two,” I conceded. I waved my hand. “Now come on, I want to hear more about these preconceived expectations you seem to have had about me.”

  Hannah ran her tongue along her bottom lip, staring at me intently. It made me restless. I fidgeted in my seat, the heat of her gaze searing me. When Hannah looked at me it felt as though she were penetrating to the bone.

  “You have this strict and no-nonsense vibe. Perfectly pressed shirts.” She pulled slightly at my collar, the tips of her fingers grazing the skin of my neck. I was blushing like a goddamned schoolgirl. It was slightly humiliating. Not quite as bad as being exposed as a closet musical lover.

  “Your hair is cut short. Not a strand out of place.” She trailed her hand to the back o
f my head, pressing into the nape. Fucking goosebumps broke out along my arms.

  “You walk with your shoulders back. Chin out. Chest puffed just a little. You enter a room like a man who is ready to take charge.”

  Her fingers were still on the back of my neck. Their heat scorched my skin. The air was thick inside the car. The smell of her shampoo was making me dizzy. I took a deep breath and licked my dry lips.

  Hannah’s thumb circled slowly. So slowly. “I definitely didn’t see a man who sang along to show tunes.” She smirked, dropping her hand back into her lap.

  Great. Now I was sporting a raging boner. Think about something else. Kittens. Old ladies. Granny panties.

  Anything but wanting to see the woman beside me naked on my bed. My face buried between her—

  Yeah, that wasn’t helping.

  “What can I say? I love a good tragedy done to song.” My voice was husky. Cracking slightly. I cleared my throat.

  Keep your eyes on the road. Nowhere else.

  I forced a pained smile. I moved in my seat, trying to hide the visible hard-on in my pants. God, I hoped she didn’t notice.

  “In high school I was a drama geek,” I found myself saying. Wow, I wasn’t going to win many cool points this evening. What was wrong with me?

  “A drama geek? Really?” Hannah sounded incredulous.

  My tall, strong, masculine first impression was going right out the window the more I spoke. “Musicals are a guilty pleasure. I’ve been to see Phantom of the Opera four times. But if you breathe a word I will deny it profusely, and no one would believe you anyway. You know, because of the whole badass-FBI-agent thing I have going on,” I said with a grin.

  “I wouldn’t dream of revealing your secret,” Hannah said softly with her own grin.

  “You know, it’s only fair that you reveal one of your deep, dark secrets. To make it even,” I remarked, having to speak loudly over the music.

  Hannah raised an eyebrow and her eyes danced. “Not yet, Mason. I don’t think you’re ready.”

  We laughed together but there was something strained to it. Not easy like before.

  The tension became something else.

  I cleared my throat again. “You can turn on the radio. Don’t feel you have to listen to this on my account.”