“When this is over, I’m teaching you to cook.” Harvard grabbed two tissues from the box near the sink on his way back to the table.
The look of horror on Rachel’s face was priceless. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”
“So you don’t starve to death if the Savoy stops delivering?”
“But wouldn’t you cook for me?”
Harvard almost tripped over his own feet. It was the first time she’d even hinted that they might have a future together, and apparently it was one where she expected him to cook.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll make sure you’re well-fed.”
She stuck her chin in the air. “See? No need for lessons. Now, let’s get this over with before the hordes arrive.”
Holding the envelope with a tissue, to preserve any prints that might still be on it, Harvard sliced across the top before turning it upside down and emptying its contents onto the table.
A thumb drive fell out.
“No photos,” Rachel murmured. “Unless they’ve gone digital. Do you think that’s what they’ve done? Scanned the photos so they can keep them, instead of giving them to me? I mean, they must have a limited supply. They are Polaroids after all.”
“Don’t know,” Harvard said, but that bad feeling that had saved his life on several occasions was back and blaring at him to abort. “Maybe we should leave this until Elle gets here. She can plug it into something that won’t be destroyed if it’s infected.”
“Michael.” The way she said his name made his chest tighten. It was intimate. Personal. Just for the two of them. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but I have to see what’s on there when there’s no one around to witness my reaction.”
“Rachel, I’m here.”
For a second, she seemed confused. “But you don’t count.”
The magnitude of that simple statement stole his ability to breathe. Because it meant she trusted him enough to let him see her vulnerable. To Rachel, he was an insider. Possibly the only one she had.
What a helluva time to discover she’d let him get that close.
With a curse, he rubbed a hand down his face
and gave her what she wanted. What she needed. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. But we’ll plug the drive into your TV first, that way it can’t corrupt your computer. If there are photos on there, we’ll be able to see them on the screen anyway, and if there are documents, we’ll know if the files are malicious based on how the TV reacts. If it infects your TV, then I think it’s safe to say, we shouldn’t plug it into a computer without Elle being here to fix anything that goes wrong.” It was the best he could do. The smallest measure of protection. That, and the fact he would be at her side.
“That sounds reasonable.” Rachel turned toward the living room.
Harvard used a tissue to pick up the thumb drive before following her. “I’m not sure this is the wisest decision,” he said as she picked up the remote and aimed it at the painting over the fireplace.
“Duly noted,” she said, as the painting slid up into the ceiling to reveal a large screen TV.
Harvard went straight to the TV and positioned the USB at the port. “You sure?”
“Yes. Now hurry up, or the others will get here before I’ve had a chance to see what’s on it.”
There was nothing else he could do to stall or talk some sense into her, so he pushed the drive into the port. For a second, nothing happened, and then a message appeared on the screen. White text on a plain black background.
Resign Tomorrow.
He glanced at Rachel, who looked about as bewildered as he felt.
“They could have written that on a Post-it Note,” she said.
“Here, gimme the remote.” Harvard crossed the room to her, his back to the TV, and his gaze on her face.
And he saw the instant everything changed.
The color drained from Rachel’s face as she whispered, “No.” She swayed as if about to topple, her eyes widening with shock. And then the sound kicked in, and a voice moaned, “No, please, no.”