CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“But I can do it.” Shea stood her ground, shaking but determined. Getting the upper hand with Carlson was just a matter of hacking into the castle’s server.

A shower would’ve been nice. Clean clothes. Shoes and socks, too. There wasn’t time.

She and Eric had only made it to the breakfast bar in Murphy’s orderly kitchen, done in an old-fashioned Irish farmhouse style. High cabinets showcased granite sinks and counters. Dark wooden stools with round red cushions rimmed the breakfast bar. The white enamel stove and icebox caught Shea’s eye. Those sweet babies were right out of the 1950s, and this was her dream kitchen come true. It almost made her want to whip up a bacon and cheese omelet, Eric’s favorite, while the men talked.

There was a time she’d loved cooking, but there wasn’t time for that, either. Once safely inside Murphy’s sturdy cottage, all the news stateside had spilled out. On the surface, Carlson had certainly hit all the well-intentioned high notes. He was the one who’d initiated first contact to Alex. He’d adamantly insisted his men had accidentally run into the cab in the course of protecting Finn Powers from other unnamed parties.

Accidental, ha.

Jordan, Rosie, and the cabbie were supposedly under Carlson’s care while he was staying at Ashford Castle. Who does that? Just suddenly show up in Ireland at the same time that the woman—ahem, woman in a fat suit—showed up with one of the world’s best kept secrets? Protecting Finn Powers, my foot.

If anything he said was true, Shea hoped it was that Jordan and her friends had been treated for their injuries. But, given how Gordie’s encounter with the billionaire ended, that was the question of the day, wasn’t it?

The problem now was getting Jordan and the others out of Ashford without another accident. Shea wanted to help.

“No,” Eric said, his voice taut with his conviction. “You did enough when you snagged that SD card away from Abdul-Mutaal. You’re sidelined. Take a chair.”

She climbed onto the nearest bar stool and hooked her bare heels to the bottom rung, sidelined maybe, but not done arguing her case. “Murphy, may I at least use your computer?” she asked, her hands clasped on the granite counter as if she were an obedient wife.

“I said no, Shea. I don’t want you in more danger. You’ve got three different factions after you now, and they’re all violent. Enough is enough.” God, she loved Eric. Her sexy husband meant well, but as he lifted an imperious brow, as the wrinkles on his forehead echoed the ire he meant to convey, she nearly smiled. Eric should know better. No obedient little housewife would be in this much trouble.

“She’s what?” Surprise widened Murphy’s blue eyes. The sixty-plus Army veteran ran a hand over his thinning gray hair. “This I’ve got to hear.”

Eric lifted his index finger, punctuating his side of the argument as if he’d already won. “Abdul-Mutaal, the ISIS terrorist, not sure who he’s working for or with.” Another finger hit the line-up. “Three Frenchmen who we’re fairly sure work for Carlson.” He spiked an evil glare at Shea when his third finger stood up. “An Arab on a motorcycle who knows how to shoot, and who might be working with Mutaal. We don’t know yet.” Finally, baby finger made four. “And oh, yeah, hacking is illegal. If you get caught—”

“Did Alex catch me? Did Mother?” she asked, trying hard not to sound as smug as she felt. What she wanted most was to lick those fingers, just not in Murphy’s kitchen. “If I remember right, Alex was a few million richer the last time we talked.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed as if he was surprised she would challenge him. His lips pursed. His brows clashed, like maybe he was trying to intimidate her, but that’d be the day. She’d never been afraid of Eric, so stop with the male posturing. “I don’t care. I’m not putting you in danger anymore.”

Why didn’t he understand that she shared that same fear when he put himself in harm’s way? She had skills they didn’t. Why not use them? “I’ll be extra careful, Eric. Besides, I know more about Unix, Python, and PHP than either of you. I can manipulate most systems and talk with more processors than Mother. I can get inside Ashford and find him.”

“Yup. You two are married.” Murphy’s eyes twinkled at the banter. “Mind telling me what the heck PHP is? That another designer drug I don’t know about?”

That merited another dirty look from Eric, and Shea honeyed her words with a gentle smile. He’d eventually come around to her way of thinking, but she needed it to be on his terms. At least, she needed him to think that. “It’s an HTML scripting language, a hypertext pre-processor. Web developers use it to design dynamic websites or to decode fatal errors. Think of it this way. When you hit the keys on your computer, it gives you exactly what you ask it to. If you type a Z, you’ll get a Z. But with PHP, I can macro every keystroke to make it do what I need it to do, not just a single alpha or a numeric. One tap can contain an entire program. I’m not just typing when I, umm, dabble.” Eric’s brows hit an all time high at that selective word. “I’m using scalar declarations, null coalescing operators, and infiltrating—”

Mischief tweaked the corners of Murphy’s mouth. “For crying out loud. Did Mother and Ember teach you all this mumbo jumbo?”

Shea ducked her head into her shoulders, guilty as charged. “Mother says I have a gift. I’d like to use it to rescue Jordan and Rosie.” Regret took over then. “I couldn’t do anything to save Phoenix or Gordie. I just want to help.”

Eric’s gaze narrowed in on her like a sniper, one eyelid nearly shut and her heart in the crosshairs. Shea dropped her lashes, not willing to challenge him. If he honestly thought he could do this without her, maybe she would make an omelet or something while she waited. Like a good little wife.

Murphy dropped his elbows to the counter between Shea and Eric. “Unless you’ve got a better plan,” he said to Eric, “I think we ought to see what your significant other can do. She sounds pretty smart to me.”

“Smart isn’t Shea’s problem.” Eric exhaled a slow huff of disapproval, that full-on sniper glare on high beam. “These guys are vicious killers. They’ll murder her if they catch her, Murph. I know you want to help your friends, Shea, I just can’t—”

She reached across the counter for his hand. Like old times, his strong, manly fingers intertwined with hers like the lifesavers they always were. “I can do it right here if you and Murphy buy me what I need. You can watch. It won’t be hard and it won’t take long.”

Eric’s lips pursed as if he might be considering it, but Murphy winked at Shea. “Come see what I’ve got before we go shopping.”

With a nod and a smile, he ushered them into a spacious office off his living room, another spectacular vision in Irish living. Heavy wooden furniture done in soft purples and mint green paisley patterns circled a stone hearth that invited the weary traveler in Shea to linger. It’d be nice to curl up there with Eric and watch football under that lush cream-and-merlot-colored afghan draped over the arm of the couch. What a paradise.

“Your wife has good taste,” Shea murmured as she dropped to the office chair in front of a large wooden desk.

“She does,” Murphy agreed. “Now show us what you can do, little lady.”

Like a silly nineteen-fifties housewife, Shea peered around Murphy, needing Eric’s approval before she touched the keyboard. Not once in their married life had he hinted she needed permission to do anything, but she wanted it now.

He lifted a forefinger to his right brow, his tell that he was considering his options. Then, “Go ahead, Shea. Show us what you can do.”

She nearly teared up at his faith in his faithless wife. How did a woman ever forgive herself for running from a man like him? Not now, she thought. Focus. Prove to him you can do this.

Shea let her mind soar and her fingers fly.

“I don’t know about this,” Eric growled, obviously doubting because he wasn’t in control of this breach.

To keep him aboard, Shea explained, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect Moira’s system before I attack Ashford’s.” Her mind was already ten steps ahead, working the complexity of reaching into Ashford’s remote server and circumventing its system administrator, ICMP protocols, operating systems, and firewalls. To find a way inside their server, she’d need to deactivate the hotel’s OS detection, find their vulnerability. Maybe locate an open port that would provide access without detection. “Brute force will do it,” she theorized out loud.

Eric leaned over, his cheek nearly against hers as he watched the screen. “Are you sure this won’t get you caught?”

Just as she’d expected, her protective ex-husband had transformed into her willing cohort. Logic and honesty worked with Eric. She wished she’d remembered those simple techniques two years ago.

“Positive.” She gulped, her fingertips on the keypad, but needing Murphy to understand what she had to do to his wife’s computer. “Do I have your permission to replicate your operating system? I won’t harm a single file, but I need everything of yours shut down and stored before I can maximize bash scripting.”

Her heart thumped along with her tapping fingers. This was her chance to shine, to make up for the trouble she’d caused.

A twinkle lit Murphy’s eyes. “You do know that I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, don’t you?”

“It’s a security measure,” Eric cut in. “Shea needs all the operating space she can get.”

“I’ll be extra careful,” she promised.

Murphy dropped into the nearest overstuffed chair, his hands folded over his stomach. “Sure. Moira won’t mind. If she does, I’ll buy her a new computer. How long’s this gonna take?”

“Only as long as it takes me to bypass the castle’s security protocol and insert my spiders. You won’t be sorry.” Shea drew in a deep breath. I hope.

With Eric peering over her shoulder, her fingers danced through macros, assembly languages, and interpreters. She knew programming, and once she’d partitioned Murphy’s files, she ensured her programs remained virtual ghosts. Everything would be for naught if Carlson traced her dabbling back to Moira’s IP address.

Shea set to work. She set up a virtual copy of her system that only she could delete, then installed firewalls to protect Moira’s simple operating system. Next, Ashford.

Yes! Their system security was similar to the ones large departments stores used to ensure the confidentiality of customer financial data. Tap. Tap. Tap. Easy, peasy for a savvy hacker with nimble fingers.

One to go. Next, locate Carlson. Target his name, voice, or face within Ashford’s enormous database. With one last tap of her index finger, she unleashed her elite spyware. Her spiders.

“Come back to me with good news,” she breathed as a small window opened. Coding flashed too quickly for anyone to read, and—

Bingo. Primary target acquired. Oh, look. Along with Carlson’s mug shot came a view of the three Frenchmen he employed. Ashford’s front lobby security cameras had caught their arrival when they’d checked in at the front desks like normal people.

But she wanted more. A room number would be nice.

Ashford Castle boasted its own private cellphone mast given its reputation for pandering to the exclusivity and privileged tastes of its wealthy clientele. Her army of virtual spiders could detect radio frequencies from that tower, both transmitting and receiving. All Carlson had to do was use his phone, and she’d know precisely which room he was in.

“I love spiders,” she murmured to herself just as her fingertips tripped over themselves at the sensual shiver of Eric’s warm breath on her neck.

“You never used to like bugs,” he whispered, the tease. Aishling prowled somewhere in Murphy’s quaint Irish cottage home, but Eric? He stayed fast at Shea’s side.

She stifled the urge to bump lips with him once more. “I’m working here,” she replied, sure Murphy heard what she wasn’t saying, which had everything to do with sex on this desk if Eric didn’t stop—breathing. Sheesh! How was a love-starved woman supposed to keep her hands to herself with him around?

“Good girl. Now we know for sure those guys work for him.” He might as well have licked the back of her neck. Her heart set to racing. The blood in her veins thrummed. Every last bone in her body was melting. She could so not concentrate.

“What am I watching?” he asked, his voice in her ear, his lips a kiss away.

Me melting under Murphy’s desk. Want to join me?

Trembling with the sexual tension wiggling down her spine, Shea tapped out a new command for her spiders. “Right now, I’m inside Ashford’s wireless phone system.” But I want you inside me. She coughed to clear that husky tremor out of her voice. Blinking up into her ex-husband’s honest gaze, she told him breathlessly, “It might take a while to hone in on Carlson’s vocal patterns if he isn’t using his cellphone.” Do you want to make love to me while we wait?

“What are you using as a reference?”

“This recording.” Licking her bottom lip, she minimized the coding window, highlighted another icon, and tried to wrench her mind back from the erotic abyss it seemed to be swan diving into with utter abandon. “I recorded it when Carlson visited the lab. I could use the GPS chip in his phone to track him, but this is more accurate. It’ll all but put me, I mean us, inside his room.” Where he’s probably got a bed we could use while we wait…

Shea hit the previously recorded clip she’d stored online. One tap and Carlson’s arrogant threat boomed as if he were there with her. “Do you think someone like you is strong enough to tell me no?”

The rancid arrogance in his demeaning threat killed the teasing mood.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, sir,” Gordie had replied, firmly and politely. “This discovery’s not for sale, not now or next week. We’ve just begun exploring the ramifications of bounce back energy. Think about it. It’s been around since the beginning of time, and we never knew it until now.”

Intensity shuddered off Eric. His breath caught as Shea rubbed the goosebumps off her bare arms at the rowdy clip of Gordie’s New York accent. Hearing it almost made him seem alive.

“Nonsense!” Carlson again, right before he’d shoved Gordie against the lab’s countertop. “This breakthrough is huge! Monumental! Too big for the likes of you sniveling lab rats. Only someone with limitless funding has the right to study it. Think about this, you little fraud. Five million! That’s what I’m offering you right now. Take it or leave it.”

Shea was still proud of her friend. Most would’ve caved in the face of blatant corporate greed, but Gordie had stood his ground because he’d believed in her and Phoenix. He knew they could work together, if only because they already had. They were Professor Grover’s shining stars. “I’m sorry, but my answer is still no. There’s nothing you can do to convince me to sell. Phoenix and Finn have put too much of their hearts and souls into this discovery. You need to leave, Mr. Carlson.”

“You recorded the whole thing?” Eric asked, his palm squeezing her shoulder.

“Yes,” she breathed, so damned distracted. His mouth was less than an inch from hers. His tongue had just moistened his bottom lip with one languorous slide that looked like an invitation. Pure admiration glittered in his eyes. Maybe even pride. Or lust…

She shrugged, struggling to stay focused, but man… This guy was making it—dare she think it—hard? “I… I was the fat man out, remember?” And right now, I’m falling for you. “P-people usually didn’t see me, so yes. C-Carlson was just like everyone else, and…” Her tongue seemed to have forgotten how to enunciate. “Ph-Phoenix wasn’t there, so I recorded everything. I knew Carlson was trouble.”

“That’s not what your buddy said!” the man roared just as the clip ended.

Shea froze. Say what?

“What’d that mean?” Eric asked, his palm alongside her keyboard now, the sizzle between them gone.

“I don’t remember him saying that, but I was nervous, and I…” God, Phoenix. What have you done? She replayed that last segment. Then she played it once more as if repetition would change what Carlson meant by those words. It can’t be. I can’t believe Phoenix would…

Eric said it for her. “Is it possible Berglund was talking with Carlson behind your back?”

Shea shook her head. “No. That can’t be.” But yes, that was precisely what it sounded like.

“Jordan found a hole in the wall behind the refrigerator in your flat, did you know that? Is it possible Phoenix was hiding something there?”

“Like what? Drugs? Money? They both smoked a little pot now and then, but I can’t believe he’d…” No, no, no. Phoenix loved Gordie. He did. He wouldn’t have gone to Carlson behind our backs. He wouldn’t.

Yet someone had certainly leaked this important discovery. Else, how had Carlson known to come looking for it? Her heart thudded with a hard beat deep within her chest. Someone was still out there waiting for her. Shea just didn’t know who.