Code Conspiracy. Carol Ericson
“You lost me, just like you always do with this stuff.” He sank to the bed and an unexpected flash of desire scorched his flesh as he remembered the last time they’d been on this bed, in this room.
Jerrica gave no sign that the memory had crept into her databank. She ducked her head, her straight hair creating a curtain around her face as her fingers flew across the keys.
“The intruders probably loaded a program on my laptop that’s going to send anything I do straight to them—anything I look up, any emails, any programs I run. That’s what I’d do. It’ll be like they’re looking over my shoulder while I work.”
“You think you can find it?”
She peeked at him through the strands of her hair and snorted, causing the black curtain to flutter about her face. “No problem.”
As Jerrica sank farther into the zone, Gray slid from the bed and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to head downstairs and see about securing that window so nobody, including me, can get into your place that way again.”
Jerrica murmured without looking up.
He’d been in this situation with her before and knew better than to disturb her.
Jogging downstairs, he skimmed his hand along the bannister and jumped off the last step. He curled his fingers under the window and shoved it open the rest of the way. He leaned out, looking down into the street from the third-floor drop.
The tree abutting the building offered wily climbers, like him, access to the ledge running along the side of the apartment building. He couldn’t get rid of the tree, but he could do something about the ledge and the window itself.
He pivoted away from the window and into the kitchen. He threw open a few cupboard doors until he found a bottle of olive oil. Too bad Jerrica didn’t have cooking spray, but he didn’t expect to find anything that unnatural in her kitchen.
He unscrewed the lid of the bottle as he walked back to the window and then drizzled the contents along the ledge below. A slick surface wouldn’t allow someone the grip he needed to hang onto the side of the building. He set the empty bottle on the counter and tipped back his head, calling up to the loft.
“Do you have a hammer and some nails?” He had to yell twice before Jerrica emerged from her fog.
“What?”
“Hammer and nails? Where do you keep your tools…if you have any?”
“Toolbox on the floor of the front closet. Why? Never mind. Carry on.”
Crouching before the closet, he clawed through the coats and scarves hanging to the floor and wrapped his fingers around the handle of a metal toolbox. He dragged it out and flipped open the lid.
Jerrica kept the toolbox as neat as everything else in her life—every nut and bolt had its place. He messed them up before selecting several long nails and a hammer, wrapping his fingers around the black rubber encasing the handle.
He returned to the window and nailed it shut. As he tapped the final nail into place, Jerrica appeared behind him, her hands on her slim hips.
He met her gaze in the window’s reflection.
“You just nailed my window shut.”
“That’s right. Nobody can get through it.”
She reached over his arm and traced a nailhead with her fingertip. “Someone could smash it.”
“And crawl through jagged glass? I don’t think so.” He turned to face her and they stood chest to chest, neither of them moving or pulling away. “Besides, I poured oil on the ledge. Nobody is going to be able to hang on it or stand outside the window long enough to be able to break it or cut it.”
Her eyes widened and he got the full effect of those green orbs. “You poured oil on the outside of my building? What is this, 1066 and you’re defending the castle?”
“It wasn’t hot oil. It’s an effective method—as long as it doesn’t rain several days in a row.” He pulled on his earlobe. “Your building manager isn’t going to suddenly power wash the building, is he?”
“Did you actually get a look at my building while you were scaling it? I don’t think it’s been washed in a hundred years. Wait. What kind of oil?” She spun around, her black hair lashing his cheek.
He rested his hand on her shoulder as he pointed to the bottle on the counter. “Olive oil.”
“Are you securing my building or making hummus?”
“Hummus?” He sniffed. “Why would I make hummus? It’s the only oil I could get my hands on. If you were a normal person, you’d have some cooking spray on hand. That would’ve been a lot easier to use.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Cooking spray has chemicals you don’t want anywhere near your food.”
“I’m sure it does.” He raised his hands. “Don’t ruin cooking spray for me like you ruined red meat.”
“Does that mean you gave it up?” Turning her head, she raised one hopeful eyebrow.
“Not quite. I just try not to think about you while I’m ripping into a juicy steak.” He snapped his mouth shut and sealed his lips. Had he just admitted to her that he thought about her? A lot?
She shifted away from him and reached for the empty bottle. “I guess I’ll have to put olive oil on my grocery list.”
He cleared his throat. “Did you get done what you needed to get done up there? Did you find the bug or the program or whatever?”
“I did not. Nothing was loaded on my computer.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “Maybe they weren’t smart enough to do something like that.”
Gray methodically surveyed the small, neat space—not a cushion was out of place. “What did they do here, then?”
Shrugging, Jerrica splayed her hands in front of her. “I don’t know. I would think they’d want to hit my laptop. They want to know what we know—or what we’re going to discover. But they couldn’t break into it and didn’t want to take it and alert me.”
A knot formed in the pit of Gray’s stomach as his eyes darted around the room. Maybe the intruder didn’t take anything. Maybe he left something behind.
“Gray.” Jerrica grabbed his arm. “What are we going to do about Amit?”
His gaze shifted to Jerrica’s face, her forehead creased and her mouth turned down. His fingers itched to smooth the lines from her face, to turn up her lips. “Unless you want to call the police, there’s not much we can do right now. Do you have his girlfriend’s number?”
Her frown deepened. “No. I wish she would call me. Maybe we could get some info out of her. Maybe she saw someone or something.”
“Would she call the police if she doesn’t hear from Amit?”
“I’m not sure. He lives…”
Gray put two fingers against her lips and shook his head.
Her eyes got round but her mouth tightened with understanding. She grabbed his hand. “It’s late and I’m tired. I’m going to soak in the tub for a bit before I go to bed. Do you want to join me?”
Even though he knew it to be a ruse, his heart thumped at the thought of sharing a tub with Jerrica. “Lead the way.”
She headed for the stairs and he followed her, his gaze dropping to her derriere outlined in a pair of tight black jeans. Jerrica didn’t follow the latest fashions, but her urban guerilla style pushed all his buttons. This time his buttons would remain pushed…no release. The sexual tension coiled in his gut until he gave himself a mental shake when Jerrica pushed open the bathroom door.
Remember