San Francisco, California

“Thank you, Matio. That is all,” the African-American man next to Doyle said to Mr. Fence Post. Matio sounded like a Samoan name to Nicole. She’d certainly never seen him before and was relieved to see him take his leave.

Nicole waited to be invited to sit. She had no idea what was about to happen. There was no way to prepare for either situation of fight or flight, so she did her best to steady herself and wait them out.

Finally, the man moved his eyes back and forth between his open laptop and a file folder that sat open beside it. She assumed it was her personnel file. Or not. She had no idea. He still made no gesture to have her sit. She felt like a disobedient child being called to the principal’s office.

“Nicole Hunt, am I correct?” he asked without looking up.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good morning, Nicole,” Doyle said, standing up and finally pointing to a chair across from them.

“Mr. McDonough,” she said, tightening her fists into balls next to her to keep from shaking.

“Now, now, Nicole, you can call me Doyle.”

That was a bullshit response, and she knew it, but she smiled all the same. “Okay, then.” Nicole sat down and kept her feet on the floor, not easing back and crossing her legs. Be cool… be cool. “Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Mess something up with my work?”

Bob took the open seat next to her and cleared his throat again, phlegmy and unsettling. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about.”

Doyle’s assistant entered and set three cups of coffee, a small bowl of sweeteners, and some creamers down on the coffee table. Doyle came around his desk and began fixing his coffee.

“Please, Nicole… help yourself,” he instructed.

“No, thank you, Mr. —err… Doyle. I’m good. Can you tell me why I’m here?”

Bob sat up and snagged a cup of coffee—black—and tossed half of it back in one gulp. “Come on, let’s get to it.”

Doyle waved him off and leaned his trim body against the front edge of his large mahogany desk. He was probably in his late forties. The nearly white-blond hair and silver-rimmed glasses gave him a look of credibility. She supposed he was younger than he appeared, although he went for that “man in charge” look.

“Thank you, Bob.” Doyle stirred his coffee slowly and then took a sip. Every second that dragged on, Nicole felt as if her heart would explode in her chest from the frenetic beating. She had to calm herself and stay chill. She’d done nothing wrong. Nothing.

Doyle gestured his head to the large African-American man sitting next to him. “All yours.”

The man acknowledged his full power in the room with a cold stare into Nicole’s eyes. “Ms. Hunt, do you know who I am?”

“No, sir. I don’t,” she admitted.

“I am Anthony Bernhardt.”

Ohhhh. Crap.

The big kahuna.

She forced herself to hold in her surprise and opted for a polite nod. “I know who you are, Mr. Bernhardt,” she began confidently. “I’ve just never had the pleasure of meeting you one-on-one like this.”

Her answer pleased him, it appeared. At least that’s what she took from the momentary softening of his face. He wasn’t one of the men she saw last night talking with the three foreigners, but his name was on every document and sign off related to her team’s project. Anthony Bernhardt was the official project sponsor and executive representative of the TDE-5X project. On paper anyway.

“So, I take it, Ms. Hunt, you’re aware that among other roles I perform here, I’m the VP of Stakeholder Relations for the TDE-5X project?”

“Yes, sir. I’m one of the lead developers for the project, and it’s been an honor to be a part of such a groundbreaking advance in technology.”

“We’re glad you’re on board. From what I’ve heard, you’ve helped us make strides in software development, programming, and testing of the prototypes.” He folded his hands in front of him. “We hope you know how much we appreciate your dedication. It won’t go unnoticed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Fucking right, they’d better appreciate her. But still, if they knew who she was, what the hell was this dog and pony show about? They’d just escorted her through the place like a street thug, and brought her into this conference room as if they planned to put her in handcuffs for doing something on their naughty list. And now she was having a chat with the project’s big boss? It made no sense. In fact, the whole thing was downright suspicious. If this meeting was only taking place because of what she saw in the wee hours of the night, then this company was all sorts of fucked up. The possibility caused a shadow of anger to rise close to the surface. The thing was, losing her shit at a time like this would get her nowhere. She had to keep her cool and retain at least the appearance of professionalism to find out where the fuck this meeting was going.

Mr. Bernhardt rifled through some papers next to him. “I’ll get to the point, Ms. Hunt. Do you mind answering a few questions about your work on TDE-5X?”

“Not at all.”

He frowned, seeming to labor with the question. “Were you ever asked or instructed to work late on this project, Ms. Hunt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Of course, you work late,” Doyle interrupted. “We see from the security logs that you worked extremely late on Friday night. Into Saturday morning, in fact.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, and swallowed hard to bite back her defensive tone. “I’ve been doing that quite a lot lately with all the extra work on the TDE-5X project.” If she were playing below the belt, she's throwing Ryan under the bus and let them know she was picking up the slack for his sorry ass. But that would muddy the waters. Priority number one was to find out exactly what was going on here.

Doyle nodded and scooted his eyes over to Bob and back to her. “We appreciate all the extra effort, Nicole. It’s so good to have dedicated employees such as yourself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Bernhardt took over again. “So, you received approval from your supervisor for all the extra hours you’ve worked on this project?”

“No, I’ve not—” she started to explain herself, but he cut her off.

“Are you saying you’ve been here in the office at times where you were not authorized to work on the project.”

Now, it was her turn to scowl. “No, not quite.”

“Then, how?” Bernhardt pressed.

Nicole didn’t like the direction he was taking with this line of questioning. This was the kind of bullshit that got her guard up and had her wanting to act in ways that wouldn’t be beneficial to her career. She wished one of them had the balls to ask a direct question. Fuck, it was clear as day that they wanted to know what she saw or heard on Friday night. They were beating around the fucking bush. This kind of crap made her blood boil. She didn’t need this shit. She’d quit jobs for much less than this before. The only reason she held her tongue was because she really liked the challenge of this project. That, and the fact that they were less than eight weeks away from wrapping up with project completion and delivery. And the truth was they needed her, not the other way around.

She was sure she shouldn’t go there.

Fuck this.

She was going there. “Is there something specific you’d like to ask me? Because you might want to speak to Ryan Malone about the hours I’ve worked for the past eighteen months. Unless you want to talk about something that happened more…recently.”

“We’ll get to that,” Doyle noted.

“As recently as say, last Friday?” Bernhardt asked, taking the bait.

“Sure. What would you like to know?”

“Have you ever seen any visitors who, from your knowledge, were not authorized to be on the project floor? Other than security, of course.”

“No, sir. I mean, there was that courier guy, but no one else. I was alone.”

There. Perfect. This was as good a time as any to lie. These men were so curious about what she saw, it could only mean that she wasn’t supposed to have seen it.

“Did you see anything suspicious?”

“No.”

Another lie, but fuck it.

Bob Worthington was less patient with the pace of this interrogation. “Why were you here Saturday morning?” he blurted out.

“Bob, we’re handling this,” Bernhardt snapped.

Nicole sat forward. “Handling what exactly?” When Bernhardt wouldn’t meet her stare, she pleaded with the head guy. “Doyle?”

“We’ve had a… umm, security breach here over the weekend and just wanted to talk to employees who were on the premises. That’s why we wanted to know what you might have seen on Saturday morning?”

Shifting her eyes over to Bob, she could see he was suspicious of her. Him. Luis. Mr. Wu and his two friends. Not to mention the four muscle-bound thugs in the lobby. She wasn’t giving in, though. Her father had taught her a hell of a lot more than manners and how to play spy. He’d schooled her on keeping her mouth shut and never saying more than you were asked.

She tucked her long hair behind her ears and eased back in the chair to seem as if she had nothing to be nervous about. “Fuck… I was so bogged down on the lines of code I was writing all night. Yards of them. I think the only time I bothered to get up was to go to the bathroom.”

“Or to get some water?” Bob asked, lifting a brow at her.

“Maybe. I don’t remember.”

“So, you didn’t see anyone else here in the office before you left Saturday morning at—” Bernhardt reached for a print out from the security staff and said, “—left at 6:49 a.m.?”

Playing along, she smiled. “Wow. Was it that late? Or, that early, rather?”

Doyle returned her grin, but Bob and Bernhardt didn’t.

“You had to have seen who was here,” Bob barked out.

Nicole jerked her head to face him. “No, sir. I didn’t. I was doing my work—and Ryan’s work, too, for that matter—and then I went home and collapsed from exhaustion. Quite frankly, Clark Kent could have walked up to me, stripped down to his Superman tights, and flown out of the office with me on his back and I probably wouldn’t have noticed because I was so absorbed in all the work.”

Bob let out a frustrating sigh, and Doyle held his hand up to him.

“You’re quite funny, Ms. Hunt. You’ve been with us how long?”

“Eighteen months, sir.”

“And, you’re happy here?”

“I would be a hell of a lot happier if I didn’t have to do Ryan’s work while he had an actual life.” There. She’d said it. She didn’t give a shit if Ryan got pissed or never spoke to her again, especially if it meant she might get a real weekend before this project was over.

Doyle smiled. “We’ll look into that, won’t we, Anthony?”

“Sure, sure…” Bernhardt said, making a note.

She got up and smoothed her hands down the front of her pants. “May I get to work now?”

“Yes, yes,” Doyle said. He gestured toward Bob to move out of the way. It was obvious the larger man didn’t want to obey. “We’re done for now. If you can think of anything you might have forgotten, Nicole, please contact Bob or me immediately.”

“Sure thing,” she said. As if.

Bernhardt added, “You know you are not authorized to investigate any suspicious activity on your own.”

She couldn’t help but laugh because it was exactly how she felt. “I’m a computer nerd, sir, not one of Charlie’s Angels.”

Mr. Bernhardt closed the folder, flipped the laptop down, and tucked them both under his arm as he stood to leave. “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Hunt.” He stretched across the table and extended his hand to her. Even though it was thought to be rude for a man to extend his hand to a lady before her doing it first, Nicole took it and gave a confident shake before releasing his hand. “Do be careful when working after hours, and thanks again for your contribution to this crucial technology project.”

“Absolutely.” She tilted her head up at Bob. “Have a nice morning.”

The door to the office closed behind her. She was sure she’d heard both men raise their voices immediately. Had Doyle’s assistant not have been sitting at her desk right outside the door, Nicole would have pressed her ear up against it to have a listen.

She hustled back to her cube.

Think. Think. Think.