The Lost (21 page)

A deep ridge erupted on his forehead and he glanced at her through slitted eyes. “Sounds awful when you put it like that. Like I’m some kind of vampire.”

“Do you? Take energy from other beings?” she put out there, needing to understand more about who and what he was before she became even more involved than she was.

He looked away then, obviously uncomfortable. When he spoke, an underlying hint of anger vibrated in his voice. “I can connect with electrical things directly, and as for living things… I could take their power. I usually don’t, except possibly here, when I do my experiments.”

She glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time, now aware of its real purpose. “You were trying to gather energy for yourself the other night.”

He nodded. “And test a new battery concept. One which can store electrical energy taken from naturally occurring sources, like lightning.”

Much as she had earlier with his father, she got the sense it was only a partial answer, that there was more to his powers and what he did with them that he wasn’t saying, and in a way, she understood. Even though they had made love twice and spent the night in each other’s arms, they were still essentially strangers. Whatever trust existed was built on the rocky foundation laid down by the events of the last couple of days. Before a more solid footing could be found, they needed to learn a great deal about each other.

“Did it work? The new battery?” she asked, diverting the subject to one that she hoped would be less antagonistic.

Visibly relaxing, he offered up a wry smile. “It gave me enough juice to nearly fry myself and maybe even shoot those power balls.”

“You’ve never done that before?”

Shaking his head, he shifted the chair until they were face to face and knee to knee. “No, I haven’t. Just like I never healed someone or made love to a very desirable and very beautiful woman before,” he said and punctuated his statement by grazing the side of her face with the light brush of his fingers.

She imagined he could feel the heat of the blush created by his words much as she could once again sense the buzz of power against her skin. “I find it hard to believe you’ve never made love—”

“Not like last night. Not with someone like you,” he immediately clarified, and shifting his hand to her lips, traced the edge of them with his index finger, igniting want with just that simple caress.

Leaning forward, she kissed him—just a barely there
skip of her lips along his, eyes open to watch the changing emotions in his. Seeing the already deep emerald darken, get swallowed up by the blackness of his irises as she continued to tease her lips along his.

The loud ring of the doorbell yanked them apart, drawing their attention to a monitor, which flashed to a picture of someone at the front door.

Adam held his hand over his computer and after an abrupt wave said, “I’m opening the front door, Rand. Come down to my lab.”

The man immediately entered and less than a minute later, he stood before them at the entrance to the room, hands clasped together, back ramrod straight. He had a bulldog’s face, all craggy and saggy in spots, although she suspected he wasn’t much older than fifty. It was a face that had seen a great deal and judging from the salt and pepper buzz cut and his stance, he was either ex-military or ex–law enforcement.

“Rand. Thank you for coming so quickly,” Adam said and rose from his chair, motioned for the man to enter.

“No problem, sir. I sensed there was trouble.” There was no doubt about his feelings as the man glared at her.

She stood, feeling a kink bunch up in the middle of her thigh, causing her to falter a bit when she faced the man Adam had called Rand.

“Do you have a problem with me, Mr.—”

“Cunningham, ma’am. Randall. Chief of Security,” he replied precisely, wasting not a word.

Judging from the neat look of him, with his pristine dark suit, white shirt, proper rep tie, and buzz cut, Mr. Cunningham, Randall, Chief of Security, was not a man of excess anything.

“And no, Sergeant Carrera. I have no problem with you. It’s just that your presence was… unexpected,” he advised with a measured dip of his head and finally a glance at Adam, an almost parental I-hope-you-know-what-you’re-doing kind of look.

“No longer a sergeant, Mr. Cunningham. Bobbie will do,” she said and held out her hand to the man.

He took it and after exactly two shakes, pulled it away and said, “Bobbie. Once a Marine, always a Marine, Bobbie.”

With those words he made himself clear. He was always faithful, not only to the Corps, but also to Adam, his employer. If she posed a threat, he would protect Adam from her. If she wasn’t a risk, he’d have her back also.

“I need you to know you’re
my
man on this, Rand,” Adam said and came to stand by Bobbie, sending his own message. Randall shrugged shoulders that stretched the fabric of his serviceable dark suit as he clasped his large hands in front of him. “Your father might have recommended me, but you pay the bills, Adam.”

“Good to know,” Adam replied, and then continued. “We’ve got photos of the men who attacked us the other day. I want to run them against whatever databases are available.”

“VICAP, CODIS, as well as the secret stuff, I’m assuming?” Rand asked without blinking an eye.

“You can do that?” Bobbie pressed.

With a slow dip of his head, he said, “I can, but I’m assuming you don’t want it to track back to either you or SolTerra.”

“That would be correct,” Adam confirmed.

Rand reached into his suit jacket pocket, took out a business card and pen, wrote down something, and then handed the card to Adam. “Someone trustworthy. You’ll be able to snoop around all you want without sending up any signals.”

“And what will you be doing while we’re snooping?” Bobbie asked.

Rand gave an uneasy shrug. “I detected some unusual network activity the night before.”

“You’re saying someone broke into our systems?” Adam dragged a hand through his hair, clearly distraught.

“Not really a break-in,” he said, annoying Bobbie with his obtuseness.

“Can you be a little clearer?” she pressed.

“I think they came in through a back door,” Rand advised.

Silence followed for long seconds before Adam pushed away from the workstation and paced back and forth before rounding on Rand. “You’re saying it was an inside job?”

With a quick dip of his head, the security chief confirmed it. “Could be a simple case of someone trying to steal trade secrets.”

“Nothing simple about that and unlikely given that it happened on the same day as the attack,” Bobbie offered up for consideration.

Adam’s gaze narrowed, but then he inclined his head. “Get to it, Rand. I’m hoping it does turn out to be nothing more than corporate espionage.”

With little wasted motion, Rand excused himself and left.

Bobbie approached Adam and cupped his cheek. “He
seems like a capable man. I’m sure he’ll have something for us soon.”

“Is it still an ‘us,’ Bobbie?” he said, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“For now,” she answered immediately, because that was the only thing of which she was certain. For now because she wasn’t sure she was ready to live in another war zone, always having to watch her back. For now because whatever was happening between them was still too new and inconstant.

Adam smiled tightly. “I understand. I won’t press.”

Because she appreciated that, she inched up on tiptoe, swept a quick kiss across his lips, and said, “Let’s go visit Rand’s friend.”

T
he address his security chief had given him was for a souvenir shop located in one of the older buildings on the Asbury Park boardwalk. Centered between the renovated Paramount Theater complex and the still in a state of disrepair Casino along the southernmost edge of the boardwalk, it was in a high-foot-traffic location. Great for selling T-shirts, but maybe not so great for the apparently clandestine activities in which the store’s owner also engaged, Adam thought as he peered at the boardwalk. Even on a Friday in the off-season, there were a goodly number of people strolling, jogging, and bicycling along the strip or enjoying a meal at one of the many food kiosks and restaurants nearby.

“Not quite what I expected,” Bobbie said as she did a slow visual sweep of the location, echoing his thoughts.

“I’m with you,” he muttered. He opened the door for Bobbie and they walked into the shop. A counter stretched across the entire back width of the space and
a young woman sat there working on some kind of sewing machine, feeding a T-shirt through while the needle whirred busily.

“May I help you?” she said as she paused in her work and glanced at them. Adam figured she was in her midtwenties, about the same age as he and Bobbie.

“We’re looking for Sam,” he said. A wary look came into her hazel eyes and her shoulders tensed.

“Who’s looking for Sam?” The young woman slowly rose and faced them, but she reached beneath the edge of the counter and Bobbie had no doubt about what she was reaching for.

“Randall Cunningham sent us,” Bobbie advised quickly and the woman visibly relaxed.

“Dad mentioned you’d be coming,” the woman said, pulled her hand out, and stuck it in Bobbie’s direction. “I’m Sam Cunningham.”

“Cunningham?” Bobbie said as she shook Sam’s hand.

“That’s me. Samantha Ann Cunningham, although everyone calls me Sam.” She faced Adam and offered her hand and then briskly strode to the front door, locked it, and flipped around a sign in the glass door to “Closed.”

When she returned to where they stood, she pointed in the direction of a door tucked into the corner of the store, and as they walked through, they entered another area that was almost as large as the space in front.

Work tables held an assortment of electrical items as well as about half a dozen pinball machines. At Adam’s questioning look, Sam said, “I repair them for the pinball museum down the boardwalk. Aren’t many of us who know how to do that anymore.”

“Fascinating,” he murmured as he walked past the
classic machines, which were in various states of repair, and reached two tables with televisions and other camera equipment.

“Garage sale and dumpster finds. I have a secondhand electronics store on Cookman,” Sam explained.

“An electronics McGyver,” Adam said, apparently in awe of the woman’s multiple talents.

“You might say that,” Sam replied with a gamin smile as they continued beyond those tables to the farthest point in the room. A bank of at least a dozen computers and monitors were busy processing an assortment of tasks. Sam motioned to them and said, “I also host a number of websites, mostly for people who want a little extra security.”

“Industrious, aren’t you?” Adam teased, and a broad smile erupted on her face, transforming her youngish features.

“Coming from you, Mr. Bruno, that’s quite a compliment.”

Bobbie experienced an unexpected curl of jealousy at the way the attractive young woman was eyeballing Adam, but she strangled the urge to slip her arm through his and stake her territory. Instead she said, “If we’re done with the mutual admiration society, maybe we can get to why we’re here.”

Sam shot her a half glance out of the corner of her eye, her attention still mostly focused on Adam. “You’re here because you need information you can’t get legally without a lot of red tape.”

Bobbie reached into her jeans pocket, pulled out a thumb drive and handed it to the woman. “There are snapshots of two men on there. Grainy, but hopefully they
will be clear enough to run them against the law enforcement databases.”

“I can access a number of them.” Sam took the drive and stuck it into one of the computers, but before she did anything else, she ran a check of the drive.

“Can’t be too careful. Someone hacked the Pentagon in ’08 using a thumb drive,” she explained, but was soon working on checking the photos. As she did so, she glanced over her shoulder at them. “Anything else I can find for you?”

“Not right now,” Adam replied, his gaze glued to the flashing images on the monitors, anxiously awaiting a response. He didn’t have long to wait.

The system reported a match to a man who had a misdemeanor assault rap and was a person of interest in connection with a series of murders that had occurred in South Texas. But when Sam attempted to access the files, the system denied her access.

“Whoa. They’ve been sealed big-time,” she said as she typed away, attempting to break into the system, but failing. “NSA big-time,” she muttered, and then disconnected, but not before Adam waved his hand over the keyboard.

Bobbie wondered what information he had gotten before the link had been broken. “Were you afraid that opening that file might send up a red flag—”

“And have someone trace it back here,” Adam finished.

“Damn straight. Whatever is connected to that file requires a high security clearance.”

“Like a CIA agent might have?” Adam wondered aloud, and the tension was visible to both the women.

Sam immediately defended with, “My dad’s ex-CIA, but he would have told you if it involved him.”