Asher had waited, just a little while, before calling Jackson and informing him that the innocent looking wallflower he was supposed to be watching had managed to slip from his grasp. The thought of Jackson’s disappointed silence on the other end of the call was something he’d rather avoid. But, it wasn’t just Jackson’s disappointment that made Asher’s stomach churn, it was his own.

How the hell had he allowed that little slip of a woman to escape him? Embarrassment, frustration, and annoyance surged through him. He forced himself to focus, creeping along a dark alleyway toward a dimly lit intersection. He was in a dilapidated part of town, perhaps a half mile from the diner. Asher moved carefully, stepping around a discarded bottle, avoiding stumbling over a pile of trash that contained God knows what, the limp form of Ellie Jespersen draped over his left shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

He’d been cruising the area to the west of the diner, trying to put himself in Ellie’s shoes. No money, important, obviously life-threatening data on a computer . . . what would he do? She had as much as told him what she had to do. She had to gain access to a computer, and her best chances for that were back at her apartment.

At first, he thought of simply going back there, parking his truck, and waiting, but that would leave her dangerously alone and exposed to whomever had been following her in the first place. She might be good at hacking, but she wasn’t so good protecting herself out on the streets. She’d definitely been no match for him in clandestine stalking or capture. He’d lucked out at guessing her primary travel route. She was too obvious. She should have backtracked a couple of times, moving sideways a time or two, but no, she’d pretty much picked a direction and stuck to it. The chances of her finding a ride at this time of the morning in this part of town, or paying for one, had increased his confidence that she would remain on foot.

He’d been right, but any sense of satisfaction eluded him. She was in trouble. Dangling over his shoulder, her hands flopping against his ass with every stride, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Ellie Jespersen was in way over her head. She was in a pickle, as his mother used to say, but he had the advantage. He had the skill and patience to simply wait for her to once again cross his path. It had taken an assumption on his part, but it had been a good one.

At the end of the alley, he paused, deep in shadows, glancing both ways along the dark and deserted street. It was a shady area of town, and kids or drug dealers—perhaps both—had busted out the streetlamps all along the road. His truck was parked a few hundred yards away, tucked discreetly among others waiting for repair at an auto shop. Adept at picking locks, he’d easily gotten past the padlock, breathing a sigh of relief that no Dobermans guarded the yard, and simply driven his truck in and parked it. He’d left, closed the gate behind him, hung the padlock on the metal clasp, and made his way to an intersection he’d spied earlier; a good spot where he could watch two streets coming together from the east, from the direction of the diner heading toward a V intersection.

He’d already checked the buildings along the route he’d taken to get here. There’d been no security cameras, no telltale black bubbles from discreetly placed cameras tucked under eaves. Now, as quickly as safely possible, he made his way back to the auto yard, removed the unlatched padlock, slid inside, and hurried to his truck. He opened the passenger side door and carefully settled Ellie into the seat. Though he regretted grabbing her the way he had, he wasn’t taking any chances of her getting away from him again, not only for her safety, but because he had a job to do. If he failed at this, at keeping track of a civilian computer geek, he didn’t deserve to be in DARC Ops.

He reached behind the seats, felt around on the floor, and retrieved three zip ties. There was a bunch of stuff that came in handy at times stowed behind the seats. After crafting two loops and interconnecting them with the third zip tie, he managed to snugly bind Ellie’s hands behind her back. He regretted restraining her, but had no choice, at least for the moment.

He had just slid into the truck and closed the door when she started coming to, first with a low moan, then with a gasp. She slowly raised her head, took in her surroundings, and then turned to him. Her face remained deep in shadows, as did his, but he felt her gaze on him.

“And so we meet again,” he said quietly.

She said nothing for several moments, but he heard her harsh intake of breath. Despite the knot of regret gnawing in his belly at having to treat her this way, it was for her own good. She’d be too stubborn to realize that.

He knew the instant she realized her hands were bound. Another gasp followed by a muttered curse. He waited for her to lash out, perhaps with her feet, tensing in readiness. She didn’t. Not with her feet and not with her tongue. To his dismay, her shoulders sagged, and her head bent forward. Seconds later, he heard a quiet sniffle. Oh, God, she wasn’t crying, was she? Give him a bloodthirsty terrorist any day. He couldn’t handle crying females.

“Look, Ellie,” he said, trying to reassure her. “You’ve got to believe me. I’m trying to help you.” She didn’t respond, but merely slowly shook her head, a heavy sigh erupting from her throat. “I know you don’t trust me, but I can’t let you go. Your life is in danger.” Well, that might be an exaggeration. He wasn’t sure what exactly she was up to, or what she might’ve found, but until he knew for sure, it was better to scare her into accepting his help than allowing her to run pell-mell into something worse. “Do you know why you were followed?”

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but harsh at the same time. “By you or the other guy?”

He grimaced. “The other guy. Can you at least tell me that? Do you know why?”

“Maybe,” she finally admitted.

He turned away from her and looked out the windshield, passing his gaze over the lot filled with trucks, SUVs, and sedans, not sure how much he could or would tell her to gain her trust. Maybe it was time a bit of truth was warranted.

“What I’m about to tell you, Ellie, it’s got to stay between us, okay?” Finally, she offered a grudging nod. “For now, let me just ask you a few questions . . . questions that only require a yes or a no. Okay?” Again, a slow nod. He couldn’t understand why she wasn’t fighting him this time. If only she’d raise her head so he could see her face.

“We’ve already established that you’re a hacker.”

“That’s not a question,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “Sounds pretty much like a statement to me.”

He didn’t bother responding to that dig. “And you’ve been snooping where you shouldn’t be.”

Silence.

“Okay, here’s what I can tell you. I work for people . . . and not the same people that seem to be targeting you . . . who happen to have some pretty good hackers as well. Let’s just say that your . . . how shall I put it . . . that you found something about us that’s better left private.”

Again silence.

“Here’s the thing,” he continued. “I can assure you that I work for the good guys, and I can also pretty much guarantee that whatever you’ve stumbled on, and whoever they are, that they’re not the good guys. You get it?”

Several seconds of silence passed before she spoke, her voice wary. “You work for the government or something?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said. Let’s just say we’re independent contractors.”

“And who exactly is we?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, at least not at the moment. First, I need you to answer some questions.”

“You haven’t asked any yet.”

He bit back a sigh of frustration. Why was he so hesitant in questioning her? She was just a target . . . but no, somehow, she had already become more than that. She had become a sympathetic victim, and that bothered him. Never before had he ever felt personally connected to or in any way emotional about a job. This was the first, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

“You’re a hacker. I would assume, because your bank accounts have been drained, that you’ve been warned. That warning means that you stepped on toes you shouldn’t have stepped on. Am I right so far?”

“Maybe.”

He bit back a sharp retort and inhaled deeply before he spoke again. “I need answers, Ellie. So do yourself, and me, a favor, and quit with the smart-ass answers. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“And that brings me to a question I’ve asked you before. Why do you care?”

How to answer? “Let’s say it’s a matter of security. My team’s security, and of course, your own. Someone’s obviously after you. In all good conscience, I can’t just let you go and become an easy target for whoever’s after you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You probably shouldn’t trust anybody,” he agreed. “And I can’t make you trust me, Ellie. I don’t think there’s anything I could say to make you trust me. But you should.”

“You could encourage my trust if you told me how you’re involved in all this.”

That was fair. He thought a moment. “I’m former military, Ellie. I spent time in Iraq and Afghanistan, and have been involved in some covert operations—”

“You a former Green Beret, or Delta Force, or—”

“It would be better if you didn’t ask,” he said. “Let’s just say that the people I work for, as I’ve mentioned, have a few hackers that are pretty damned good. That only makes sense, doesn’t it, in today’s day and age?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “We found you snooping around—”

“I recognized you,” she interrupted.

“What?”

She shifted position, once again turning to face him. “I have a near photographic memory, Asher. I recognized you from a photograph that I found online. In a submarine.”

Shit. It was true. He casually shrugged it off. “So?”

“So, what was that all about?”

“Training mission. What did you think?” She didn’t respond to that question, but at least it got her talking.

“Not to brag, but I’m a pretty good hacker myself,” she said. “So, let’s suppose I was doing some snooping, as you so aptly put it, and if you know about my hacking skills, and you’ve been watching me, you also know that I sometimes engage in my own . . . investigations . . . and write articles for an underground government-watchdog group.”

He nodded.

“When I came home earlier today, I discovered that someone had hacked into my computer. It wasn’t easy to spot, but I found it, even before I saw that my bank account had been drained. It hasn’t been the first time I’ve ruffled some feathers, but this is the first time that someone’s done an exceptionally good job of hiding their trail after they found mine.”

“And they drained your account as a warning.” Not a question.

“Probably.” She stiffened and turned to look out the windshield. “And I’m going to get my money back. I have to. I also have to get back to my apartment to take care of my computers. You understand that, don’t you?”

“They might be watching.”

“That’s true, but what other options do I have?”

“I have a laptop. Could you do it remotely?”

“Of course I can,” she snapped, frustration, impatience, and anger in her tone. “That means whoever the hell you’re working for can also track what I’m doing, doesn’t it?”

“I can tell them not to,” he suggested. The distinctly unladylike snort she gave almost made him smile. Almost. “You can’t go back to your apartment, Ellie. And I can’t let you. I’m not sure who or what you’ve found, but they’re obviously not playing around.”

She said nothing.

Dammit. He sighed with growing impatience. “Look, we can help you. If you’ve come across something that needs further . . . exploration, we can help.”

He might’ve stepped over the line with that one. He watched her profile as she continued to stare out the window, wanting to know more about her. She interested him. Finally, she turned toward him.

“I’m still not sure I can trust you.”

“I know,” he said softly. She was a handful, this one, and definitely not what he’d expected when Jackson sent him on this mission. Speaking of which, he needed to check in with Jackson, give him an update. But not here.

“We can’t stay here. It’ll be light soon. We need to find a place where you can do what you need to do. I also need to talk to . . . need to talk to someone.”

“Untie me.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve already let you get away from me once. I’m not going to repeat that mistake, or my boss will have my head. That, and he’ll never let me live it down.”

“Who’s your boss?”

“Someone you don’t want to mess with, believe me.”