The Paris Assignment. Addison Fox
much as the next guy, but nearly eighteen months straight on the road with an array of jobs that boggled the imagination with human depravity was getting old.
Real old.
The success of House of Steele had surpassed every expectation he and his siblings had when they established the firm three years before and the latest assignment—a babysitting job for a rich heiress—wasn’t high on his list of priorities. “I’ve made my feelings more than clear.”
“And you know my feelings on work. We take it when it comes.”
He made a valiant attempt to stare his sister down and failed miserably. “You look like Grandmother when you get all uppity like that.” As an insult it was horrifically low, but the narrowing of Kensington’s gaze had the desired effect.
“Here are your tickets. You’ll meet Abigail McBane here in New York and then fly with her to Paris tomorrow evening.”
“Because some disgruntled employee keeps sending her nasty emails? There’s nothing in this for us, Kenzi. Her security folks should be able to uncover something as routine as this.”
“There’s plenty in this and Abby doesn’t want this going through her corporate folks. That’s why she contacted us.”
“At least be honest with me. You’re doing this as a favor for a friend, not because it makes good business sense. I could be helping Liam on that job in London or Rowan figure out her Chicago museum problem. Both need some serious electronics work.”
“I’ve got them covered. Now.” Kensington pointed toward the TV mounted on the far wall of her office as a series of photos came up. “McBane Communications had a seven-minute security breach two days ago when their entire satellite system was unreachable from their central command. None of her experts could get remotely into the system while it was happening. Nor could Abby and her electronic skills are rock-solid.”
Campbell took in the images that flashed on the screen before coming to rest on Abigail McBane. She stood in front of a large backdrop, obviously speaking to an audience, her slender frame clad in a fitted business suit and sky-high heels. A lush fall of dark hair fell down her back while wide-set chocolate-brown eyes lit up her expressive face.
The entire package screamed professional and competent, yet innately feminine and he couldn’t quite pull his gaze away fast enough.
“She’s a beautiful woman.”
Since Kensington always saw too much, Campbell deliberately turned away from the screen. “What else?”
“Did I mention her top security team can’t find the breach?”
“Inside job?” The question came out, despite his best intentions to stay uninterested.
“Not on the surface. That’s what’s not jibing for her.”
Campbell moved closer to the TV, the images pulling him like a lodestone. The damned Steele curiosity, he knew, even as he turned back to look at his sister. “They’ve got military-grade security. How else would someone get in? It’s got to be an inside job.”
Kensington’s gaze was laser-sharp, the frank assessment behind her cobalt-blue eyes direct and unyielding. “Maybe yes, maybe no. We both know not everyone can be stopped with a firewall, even ones supposedly as impenetrable as McBane’s. Or the government’s,” Kensington added for emphasis.
Campbell ignored the not-so-thinly-veiled jab at his youthful—and idiot-fueled—choices. “Seven minutes?”
“Yep.”
“And her systems people have checked the code?”
“Forward and backward and there’s no trace of tampering, viruses or remote entrance.”
“She’s got a ghost.” Campbell knew the level of skills required for a job of this magnitude belonged to a handful of people. He ran through his mental list, discarding names as he went.
“Which is why she needs another ghost. One not employed by the company.”
“There are traces. Somewhere, there’s evidence in the system of where someone tampered with it. You can’t divert that much equipment without leaving a mark.”
“Exactly, Campbell. This isn’t just me wanting to take this job for a friend.” He saw the subtle pleading in his sister’s eyes and wondered why she hadn’t just started there in the first place.
He might enjoy riling her up and giving Kensington a hard time, but there was no one’s opinion he respected more. “Fair enough.”
“You’re the only one who can find this problem.”
He might not be the only one, but he knew damn well he was one of the few who had the skills to match a foe with this degree of systems knowledge.
He also knew Kensington’s considerable instincts had hit on something.
So why was he still so reluctant to take the job?
He couldn’t fully blame it on lack of sleep or a backbreaking schedule that invigorated even as it pushed him to his limits and beyond. Nor could he blame it on the lingering unease that never failed to tighten his chest when he thought about the threat that had methodically stalked and baited Sarah.
So what was it?
A security breach, conducted through electronic means and across a company with the size and scope of McBane’s, was squarely in his wheelhouse.
Kensington pointed toward the travel itinerary in his hand. He saw the briefest flash of sympathy light up her eyes before it vanished as if it had never been. “Get your game face on. You need to be there in an hour. Forty-five minutes if you want a good seat.”
Campbell glanced at his watch and quickly calculated the crosstown traffic between their offices and the Midtown high rise owned by McBane Communications. “It’s just a press conference. I’ll stand in the back. There’s no rush to get there.”
“I couldn’t care less where you plant your petulant ass. Just get going. Find the bad guy and keep an eye on Abby in the process. Do what we do best.”
* * *
Abby McBane watched her key staff members file out of her office, a well of suspicion hovering in their wake.
Was one of them responsible?
One of these individuals—all of whom she’d known for years. People she’d worked with. Shared holidays with. Traveled and ate with.
They’d all participated actively in their pre-press conference prep session and none seemed different. If anything, Abby knew, she was the one who seemed off, scrutinizing each and every one of them as she attempted to discern a traitor.
She glanced at her inbox and fought to maintain a spirit of hope that had been steadfastly missing the past few weeks. Only time would tell.
With a small sigh—one of the few she’d allow herself today—she turned back toward her email. A quick scan of her messages had her gaze alighting on a familiar name.
Kensington Steele. College roommate and the first person who made her realize she had more to offer the world than a smiling face and her family pedigree.
Abby clicked on the message, not surprised with the news.
He’ll be there.
Of course he would be. Kensington always got her man, from a series of hot and interesting boyfriends to capturing a surprising number of criminals to getting her reportedly stubborn brothers to do her bidding.
Her friend could kick the ass of the male of their species and have each and every one of them begging for more.
Why’d you stop taking lessons, Abby girl?
Deleting the message and tamping firmly down on those whispers of self-doubt, Abby grabbed her tablet and flipped through her slides for the