Code Name - Hacker (Jameson Force Security 4)

“That may be the understatement of the year,” I say with a humorless laugh. I turn back to the mirror, leaning forward to rub my fingertips under my eyes. Taking a moment to peruse my appearance, I’m satisfied I don’t look too horrible and twist the water back on to wash my hands.

Kynan comes into the restroom, letting the door swing shut behind him. Resting a hip against the sink, he crosses his arms over his chest. “So, what’s the play? Want me to kill the FBI guy? At the least beat the shit out of him for you?”

My brows furrow, and I give him a sharp look. “Of course not. He was just doing his job.”

“Oh come off it, Bebe,” he chides. “You’re pissed.”

“No, I’m not,” I insist, but I’m unable to hold his gaze. I focus on scrubbing my hands as I admit, “Okay, yeah… I’m pissed, but for different reasons than him being an undercover FBI agent.”

Kynan jerks his chin with surprise. “Like what?”

“Like…” I immediately falter, feeling awkward talking about this with my boss. But Kynan is a bit more than that. He set me free from prison. I trust him more than probably anyone else in my life. I take a long, deep breath before turning to him. “He got close to me in a short period of time. Insinuated himself into my life—”

“To protect you,” he points out.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I get that. But he didn’t have to do it that way. He could have figured out what he needed to know just by watching. He didn’t have to get personal with me and Aaron. I don’t like people playing games with me.”

“Unless he wasn’t,” he suggests thoughtfully. “Maybe this was more personal to him too.”

I shake my head bitterly, turn the water off, and reach past him for some hand towels. “Whatever. All I want to do is go after Bogachev. Fuck the FBI… I’ll bring him down.”

Kynan just stares at me, evaluating my request. “I get your anger. You’re bitter toward Bogachev. He made you steal nuclear codes, then put you in a horrible situation where you had no choice but to get caught and take the fall to protect your country and your son. And now he wants you dead. You have every right to hate him and want to take him down.”

“Glad you see it my way,” I reply tightly as I toss the used towels in the garbage and start toward the door.

Kynan stops me with his hand on my elbow. “You know, you never really told me anything about your relationship with Bogachev.”

“You never asked.” My eyes stay locked on his, unwavering and steady.

“Griff was telling me a little bit about what he’s learned while he’s been undercover. Bogachev’s network is vast. He has hackers working remotely for him all over the world.”

“What’s your point?”

“Just that Bogachev doesn’t do face to face with his minions. He tells them what to do, ensures they get paid, and pockets the profit. I assumed the same with you, but I’m thinking you’ve met the man, haven’t you?”

It’s torture not to let my gaze drop, but I refuse to be cowed. His question is incredibly personal, yet I realize… I already opened the door to the information Kynan is trying to solicit.

Gently pulling my arm away from him, I settle against the sink and punch my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “Remember back in March when we were all out in California, trying to catch Joslyn’s stalker?”

Kynan nods. It was about six months ago and I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten a thing. He’d just gotten me released from prison. I, in turn, used my skills to pull off all kinds of amazing technological things to help Kynan catch the bastard.

“Joslyn was having a tough time dealing,” Kynan says softly. Suddenly, I realize he knows what I’m getting ready to tell him.

I nod, continuing the story. “We were talking about when her stalker had broken into her house and was trying to kill her…”

“And you shared something very personal with us,” Kynan murmurs.

Yes, I had. I’d shared it so Joslyn could have hope that everything does eventually get better with time. I had admitted to both I’d been raped before, and I understood the terror of reliving those moments.

“My attacker’s eyes were bloodshot,” I’d told Joslyn. “I don’t know if maybe he was lacking in sleep or maybe he was on drugs, but for the longest time, I would have nightmares about those bloodshot eyes. Except in my dreams, they weren’t naturally red. More like supernaturally red. My point in telling you is I promise—over a period of time—those memories will lessen significantly as you process and deal. I can’t say you’ll ever let it go, but it will get easier.”