"You still have the thumb drive I gave you?" she asked.

"Yes, but what am I supposed to do with it?" I rubbed my hands across my forehead, disappointed that our plan hadn't worked so far.

"The server name is EVE0928," CJ said. "It will be labeled. You just have to find it and stick the drive in it."

"You make it sound easy," I grumbled.

"h.e.l.l no, it won't be easy," she huffed in exasperation, "there will be hundreds of servers there. I think you should forget this whole thing and get out of there."

"I don't know if I can do that," I said, thinking of Sheila and how brutally she'd been murdered. "This is our only shot, right?"

CJ sighed. "Yeah, pretty much. But Kathleen, it's not your job to stop them. You can just walk away. No one knows but you and me and I certainly won't blame you. h.e.l.l, I would've been out of there by now."

I thought about it. No one, besides CJ, even knew where I was or what I was doing. There would be no one to save me if I got in over my head. Three people had already been killed, and those were just the ones I knew about. A part of me really, really wanted to do what CJ said and just leave. But the other part of me, the part that knew what my father would have done given the same situation, overruled it.

"I'm going to stay," I said firmly. "Just tell me what I need to do."

"Fine," she said in resignation. "If you're going with them, chances are you're going to see the server. If you get that far, you'll be in good shape. You're just going to have to improvise. Don't let them see you plug it in. It has to have at least 30 seconds to upload the worm to the server's hard drive. If someone pulls it out before then, it's over."

"All right. I'll do what I can."

"Be careful, Kathleen," CJ warned.

"I will," I a.s.sured her. "I'll see you Wednesday." And I really hoped I would.

I'd just hung up my phone when the double doors opened again and a man came barreling into the office. He didn't even pause by my desk but pa.s.sed me by. I jumped up.

"Wait! You can't just go in there!" Barely glancing at me, he pushed open Stephen's office door.

"There's been a security breach," the man told Stephen. "Unauthorized access via an access point someone plugged in." I lingered behind him, listening.

"What did they access?" I heard Stephen ask. The man shook his head.

"Unknown as of yet. Whoever it was, they covered their tracks." I entered the room and Stephen glanced up.

"Did you need something, Lucy?" he asked.

"I was wondering if I could get you a cup of coffee?" I offered. "And your visitor?" I looked expectantly at the man.

"That would be great, Lucy," Stephen said. "This is Brian. He's head of network security." Brian didn't bother doing more than giving me a brief nod.

"Hi, Brian," I said, smiling and turning up the accent a bit. If there's one thing I knew about men, it's that they a.s.sumed most women were dumber than they were. Add blond hair and a southern accent and it wasn't even a question anymore. I thought I'd play up the dumb factor. It's always better to be underestimated than overestimated. "I'll get that coffee right away."

I returned in a few minutes bearing the mugs. Not stopping to knock, I opened the door to the office and walked in. Neither of the men stopped talking, which is exactly what I'd hoped they would do. I was just the secretary, after all.

"How did an access point get installed without anyone noticing?" Stephen was saying, his voice like ice.

"I don't know, sir," Brian answered. "We're having the camera footage reviewed as we speak but there weren't any in that immediate vicinity. It could have been installed yesterday or last night, for all we know."

I thanked whatever G.o.ds were looking out for me today and prayed my luck would continue.

"Have it dusted for fingerprints," Stephen said. "And don't tell anyone. Find out what they accessed." Brian nodded as I sat the coffee on the table next to him. Fingerprints. c.r.a.p. I hadn't even thought about that. I wondered how long it took to check for fingerprints. My fingerprints had been taken and catalogued as a security measure when I'd begun working for the firm. The clock was already ticking on my charade.

"I hope we won't have any security problems tomorrow?" Stephen said curtly. I sat his coffee next to his elbow on his desk.

"No, sir. Things will be locked down tight." With no more excuses to linger, I left the office and resumed my seat at my desk.

A little while later, Brian came out of the office and left, not speaking to me as he pa.s.sed. I was in the middle of using a website I'd Googled to translate the pile of Spanish. It was slow going but I thought I was making some progress.

The day pa.s.sed uneventfully and almost lulled me into a sense of complacency. The place seemed so normal. It was hard to believe they were behind such a scheme as rigging an election. I left at lunch for something to eat, but couldn't manage to stomach more than a few bites of a sandwich. My nerves were frazzled and I briefly longed for a shot of bourbon to steady them. Finally, around four thirty, Stephen came out of his office and I hurriedly shut down my translator website.

"Go ahead and take off, Lucy," he said. "Pack a bag and meet us at the airport at seven. We'll be taking the corporate jet so go to hanger 18."

"Okay," I agreed. He left and I saved my file before gathering up my purse. As I was getting ready to leave, I remembered the coffee mugs in his office. If we were going to be gone for two days, I should probably put those back in the kitchen to be cleaned.

The cups were sitting on a table near the window and I lingered for a moment, watching the sun begin its downward journey to the horizon. The days were getting shorter now. Not that I minded. I briefly wondered about the weather in Chicago. I rarely watched the news and hadn't thought to look on the internet today to see what I should pack. Autumn was a strange time of year. It could be fifty degrees one day and seventy-five the next. Chicago was no exception.

Spotting a small television in the far corner of the office, I went over and flipped it on, hoping Stephen had cable in his office so I could catch the Weather Channel. To my surprise, a television station didn't appear. Instead, the screen was segmented into many different blocks, each block showing a different image. As I watched, perplexed, I realized it was a feed from the security cameras around the building.

My heart rate shot up and I studied each of the blocks avidly, hoping Brian had been telling the truth when he'd said there hadn't been any cameras near where I'd plugged in the wireless device. It was hard to tell. A lot of the shots were very similar and I realized the layout of the cubes was probably the same on the different floors. Each of the boxes had labels, though, and by process of elimination, I was able to figure out what location they indicated. I breathed easier. He hadn't been lying. I hadn't seen any security cameras this morning by that cube and that was because there weren't any.

I was just about to flick off the television when something in the corner caught my eye. A man was there but his clothes appeared to be half off. How strange. Unthinkingly, I touched the block where that image resided and it immediately expanded into a larger window. Hmm. A touch-screen, I guessed. I looked closer at the image and gasped.

It was Blane. He appeared to be in a room, pacing its length. I could see his shirt was ripped and torn and blood stained one side of it. His face turned briefly toward the camera and I saw blood on his face.

Oh my G.o.d. I stood still for a moment, frozen in horror. Blane was here. And while I'd been whiling away the hours up here in a cushy office, he'd been beaten and held prisoner somewhere in the building.

Frantically, I tapped the screen again so I could see the window's label. Sub2-Area5. This place obviously had a bas.e.m.e.nt. I had to get Blane out of there. Flicking off the television, I grabbed my purse and hurried to the elevator. Looking at the b.u.t.tons on the elevator, I was momentarily stymied. There was only one level showing below the ground floor. I'd have to get there and see if there were stairs or something.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed Kade. When he picked up, I didn't waste time with preliminaries.

"I found him," I said. "Meet me with a car behind the TecSol building downtown in fifteen minutes." I flipped the phone closed without waiting to see if he said anything. I had no idea what I was going to do in the next fifteen minutes to get Blane out, I just knew I had to do something. CJ had said to improvise. I was about to see how well I did that.

Chapter Fourteen.

The elevator opened onto what appeared to be a deserted bas.e.m.e.nt, complete with concrete floors and walls. Cautiously, I stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, glancing around. The ceiling was tall, maybe ten feet, with bare pipes crisscrossing overhead. The elevator doors slid shut, startling me. I thought longingly of the gun Kade had taken from me this morning. What I wouldn't give to have it right now. I wasn't getting much done just standing there so I picked a direction and started walking.

My steps echoed on the concrete floor and I cursed my decision to wear heels this morning. Stepping gingerly, I turned a corner. The next hallway was just as dark and empty as the one I was in. Suppressing a shiver of apprehension, I eased forward. About halfway along, there was a door marked "Custodial." An idea came to me and I held my breath as I tried the k.n.o.b. It was unlocked, the door swinging open easily.

Fumbling for a switch inside, I flipped on the light. My face broke into a wide smile. The small room was filled with janitorial equipment and supplies. Yes, this might just work. A large metal shelving unit stood against the wall and on it were stacked mounds of blue overalls, all with TecSol embroidered in small letters on the front.

I quickly pulled a pair of overalls on over my clothes, hiking my skirt up as I did so. It was big and I rolled up the sleeves and legs of the pants. My heels were a dead giveaway but there was nothing I could do about that. Grabbing a TecSol ball cap off the shelf, I tucked my hair up into it and pulled it down low over my forehead.

A cleaning cart was shoved in the corner and I hid my purse under a pile of folded trash bags. Checking to make sure it had supplies, I added a mop, bucket of water and plunger for added authenticity before pushing it out into the hallway.

Hoping I was going the right way, I resumed walking the same direction. At the end of the hall, I was rewarded with what looked like a loading elevator. Taking a deep breath to calm my jangling nerves, I hit the call b.u.t.ton.

The groan and grinding of the elevator through the open mesh cage door made me cringe. Whoever was down below would certainly know someone was coming. When the cage arrived, I slid open the door, my fingers finding handholds in the cold metal. I pushed my cart inside and hit the b.u.t.ton for the only place you could go, which was down.

The bottom floor was a stark contrast to where I'd just been. Bright fluorescent light flooded the elevator as I pushed the mesh cage open and wheeled my cart into the glaringly white hallway. Glancing from under the brim of my cap, I saw a man sitting in a chair about thirty feet away. He was watching me. I pretended not to notice.

As nonchalantly as my racing pulse and sweaty palms would allow, I pushed the cart closer to him, keeping my head down. I hadn't seen any cameras but I was sure at least one was around. My heart rate picked up even more when I saw he was sitting in front of a windowless door. I prayed that Blane was behind it.

When I was a few feet away, the man stood and I had to gulp. He towered over me, at least six feet tall and built like a linebacker. I closed my hands in fists to stop them from shaking.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked gruffly. I bent over my cart, picking up a random can and a cloth.

"Ah wuz told ta clean the bathrooms down heah," I said, nodding towards the door behind him and laying the hick accent on thick. I was careful not to meet his eyes.

"Well this isn't the bathroom," he retorted. "It's at the end of the hall, so get moving." I nodded like I was listening to him and turned away. Suddenly, I clutched my stomach and bent over, moaning in pain.

"Hey, what's going on? What are you doing?" he said anxiously, bending toward where I was hunched over. Spinning around, I aimed the can in his face and pressed the nozzle. A white foam hit him right in the eyes and he yelled in pain, clapping his hands to his face. Grabbing the plunger off my cart, I wielded the long wooden handle like it was a baseball bat and swung as hard as I could. It bounced off his ribs like it was a toy and he reached one hand blindly inside his jacket.

Terrified that he was reaching for a gun, I swung again but before it could make contact, he grabbed it, ripping it out of my hands. Grabbing the front of my overalls, he threw me hard against the wall, my head cracking painfully against the stone and I slid to the floor. Shaking my head to try and clear my now blurry vision, I saw him move to grab me. Scrabbling on the floor away from him, I grabbed the cart for leverage and watched in horror as it tipped over on its side. The bucket of soapy water spilled across the floor and I rolled to avoid it.

The man stepped toward me and I watched as his foot slipped in the water, sending him crashing to the ground. His head knocked hard on the floor and he was still.

Gasping for air, I lay there for a moment, shaking uncontrollably. Crawling over to him, I felt for a pulse, relief flooding me when I felt it. I certainly hadn't wanted to kill him; unconscious was good enough. Reaching inside his jacket, I found his gun and took it. I pushed my hands into his pants pockets, wrinkling my nose in distaste, and found the keys I was hoping he would have.

Leaping to my feet, I tried to unlock the door. It took a couple of tries but I finally heard the lock tumble. Pushing open the door, a scream caught in my throat as I was unceremoniously dragged inside and shoved against the wall. The hat was knocked off my head.

"Kathleen?" The shock on Blane's face might've been amusing if our situation weren't so dire. Then all thought was driven out of my head when his mouth landed hard on mine. It wasn't a sensual kiss or even tender. It was desperation and hunger poured from him into me. When he finally pulled away, I was gasping for air. His bound hands cupped my face.

"They told me you were dead," he said hoa.r.s.ely, his eyes intent on mine. I struggled to keep my wits about me when really I just wanted to fall into his arms and kiss him back with equal urgency.

"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," I quoted, still a bit breathless. Blane's lips tipped up like he was thinking about smiling. "I'm here to bust you out," I continued. "Let me go now?" He abruptly released me and I could almost see him regaining his usual mask of detachment.

"How did you get in here?" he asked. I tugged at the knots on the cords tying his hands together, impressed that he'd still managed to grab me even with that handicap.

"I'm temping here today and saw you on the security cameras," I said, unwinding the cord from his arms. Once it was loosened, he pulled the rest of it off himself. His shirt was hanging open and I saw what had caused the blood stain now. A shallow cut ran across his chest, dried blood crusting it. My fingers reached out to touch him, but stopped when he grabbed my wrist.

"Are you all right?" I said anxiously, inspecting the marks on his face and relieved to find they were mostly superficial.

"I'm fine," he answered curtly. "Though I have a serious problem with you being within a mile of this place." His jaw clenched in anger and I pressed my lips together in a stubborn line.

"I don't recall asking your permission," I said evenly. How typical! Here I was, saving him, and he was going to argue with me about it! Before I could say anything further, Blane had plucked the gun out of my hand.

"Hey!" I protested but he interrupted.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, opening the door into the hallway. A quick check revealed we were still alone. Blane took in the guard lying motionless on the floor.

"Is he dead?" he asked.

"Of course not!" I retorted, stung that he'd think I'd just decide to kill someone w.i.l.l.y-nilly. "I wasn't trying to kill him. Just knock him out."

"And how did you manage that?" Blane asked, tugging the body into the room as I held the door open.

"I hit him with a plunger."

He froze, his eyes meeting mine in disbelief. I shrugged. "Then he slipped and hit his head. I got lucky."

Blane raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. "Let's hope your luck holds," he muttered as he removed the man's jacket and threw it on over his ruined shirt. It fit well enough. "Let's go."

I grabbed my purse from where it had fallen off the cart and we headed back down the hall to the elevator, Blane leading the way. My heart was in my throat but we didn't meet anyone else. It had to be past five now. People would be leaving for the day. I hoped we could blend in with the rest of the crowd and walk out the front door.

Not seeing any cameras in the freight elevator, I hurriedly took off my overalls, tugging down my skirt that had bunched around my waist. A little wrinkly but overall not too bad. I tried to repair my French twist but it had completely fallen out so made do by smoothing my hair as much as possible and finger combing it. Blane's eyes were on me but I ignored him, my cheeks flushing under his watchful gaze.

Reaching the bas.e.m.e.nt, we headed down the hallway toward the other elevator. I was beginning to breathe easier now. Freedom was very close. I should have known better.

"What are you doing down here?" A man called from behind us. I reflexively looked behind us, gasping when I saw the man pull out a gun.

"Stop right there!" he called out, breaking into a jog. Blane's hand wrapped around my upper arm in an iron grip and he pulled me into a run. The sound of a gunshot made me cry out in surprise as it ricocheted off the concrete wall. I tried to keep up with Blane but my skirt and shoes slowed me down.

We reached the elevator and Blane slammed his hand on the call b.u.t.ton. Hooking an arm around my waist, he dragged me in front of him to press between the closed elevator door and his body. I heard another gunshot and cringed into him. His body jerked slightly and he grunted. Turning but still shielding me, he aimed and fired off a shot. I heard a thud and clatter and hoped he'd hit the guy.

The elevator doors opened and we fell inside. Hurriedly, I pressed the b.u.t.ton for the lobby and repeatedly jabbed at the switch to close the doors, melting against the wall in relief when they slid closed.

Turning toward Blane, my breath caught in my throat. I grabbed his jacket and pulled it aside to see a red stain spreading on his shirt as he leaned against the back wall.

"Oh my G.o.d, Blane! You were hit!" I felt lightheaded as I took in the angry, pulsing wound in his shoulder.

"I'll be fine," he said, grimacing. "It looks worse than it feels." I remembered saying the same thing to him about my black eye.

"Good, because it looks horrible," I retorted past the lump in my throat. It didn't escape my notice that what had hit him in the shoulder would have hit me in the head if he hadn't been shielding me.

The doors opened and I struggled to look calm and normal. We exited the elevator and I focused on the doors ahead of us. They were only fifty feet away.

A few people were leaving and we walked behind them as they talked and laughed with one another. A few glances came our way but I deliberately avoided eye contact. Instinctively, I reached for Blane's hand, drawing comfort from his large, warm grip. Thirty feet.

Motion caught the corner of my eye and I saw two men rushing toward the elevator we had just exited. Fear iced the blood in my veins and I clutched Blane's hand.

"It's all right," he murmured quietly to me. "Keep moving." I tried to stay calm and keep it together. Twenty feet. Fifteen. It was all I could do to keep my pace even with Blane's measured steps when every fiber of my body wanted to run. Ten feet. Five.

Then we were outside and I wanted simultaneously to laugh and weep from relief. Blane gave in to my tugging and we walked faster. Glancing up, I saw his lips were pressed tightly together and his face was pale under his tan. A grimace of pain was carved into his mouth. Taking his arm, I pulled it over my shoulder as I slid an arm beneath his jacket behind his back. He didn't say anything but he leaned on me.

Rounding the corner of the building, I was grateful night had almost fallen. We'd only taken a few steps when Kade materialized in front of us.

"What the f.u.c.k did you do?" he bit out at me, taking in Blane's wound.

"Not her fault," Blane said, wincing as Kade took over helping Blane walk to his car. I rushed to open the pa.s.senger door and Blane got inside, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked Kade, biting my lip nervously. Blane had said it wasn't bad but it looked like a lot of blood. Guilt and worry ate at me. If only I'd been faster running down the hallway, Blane wouldn't have gotten hit.