samanthahunter.com::Fascination

Obsession?

Sage Matthews's fascination with hacking into computers and creating bugs got her into deep trouble. Just ask special agent Ian Chandler, who handcuffed the fiery redhead and has been monitoring her every sexy teasing move since.

Possession?

Ian's now formed his own crack crime busting team the HotWires. His first case? None other than Sage, fresh off probation, but seemingly up to her old tricks. Ian's hot on her tail, but his plans backfire one sultry steamy night.

Redemption?

He tangles with Sage between the sheets breaking every rule in his personal code of honor. And he's about to break a few more as his gut instinct tells him she's been framed again and only he can prove her innocence.

The HotWires: this covert team sparks desire and danger

Awards

Book Reviews

Romance Junkies, Sarah W., "Ms. Hunter is really going for the gusto with this book. Explosive passion coupled with some very interesting computer crimes make for a great read."

The Best Reviews, Kathy Boswell, "I gobbled this book up in one sitting and can't wait for the rest of the series! "

Reader Reviews

Excerpt from Fascination

Chapter One

Sage Matthews held Ian Chandler's steady, gray-eyed gaze for a long moment and pursed her lips thoughtfully, as if she had to think carefully before speaking. She looked down at the drink she held in her hand and slipped the straw between her cherry-red lips and sucked slowly, drawing her cheeks in so that her mouth formed a sexy pout around the plastic, closing her eyes as the cool burst of carbonation hit her throat. She released the straw and caught a stray bit of fizz with her tongue before answering.

"What kind of trouble, exactly, would you be referring to, Ian?" Her voice was a sultry purr, the soft southeastern Virginia accent adding a lilt of mischief.

Ian sighed and his full, gorgeous lips drew into a tight, impatient line and Sage felt a little spark of satisfaction. Ian might be the sexiest man she had ever met, but she fought any attraction she'd ever felt toward him because he was also an immense, unforgivable thorn in her side.

Sure, he was only doing his job, but for five years he'd controlled almost every aspect of her life. Annoying him — and teasing him — was one of the only ways she wrestled that control back into her hands. It was a small advantage, true, but she made the most of it.

It was an additional benefit that the air conditioning in the Norfolk Police Department, where Ian had his new office — part of the new job he was leaving his post as a federal agent for — was on the fritz. It was high summer in Virginia. The sweltering August heat created a fine film of sweat on her skin, making her thin tank dress cling to her, leaving little to the imagination. Sage didn't want to be subtle. She wanted Federal Agent Ian Chandler, who specialized in computer crime, to sweat.

She hadn't worn anything underneath the light shift because she was more comfortable that way, but also because she was going to see Ian for her monthly check-in. The more to tempt you with, she thought devilishly. Sage didn't really want Ian — she just wanted to torture him with what he couldn't have. Sighing, she looked at him, sliding her glance over his handsome features. She had a weakness for dark-haired men. Ian was a sexy guy. It was too bad he was a cop.

But just five more days and she would be free of Ian for good. And hopefully free of a past that had been holding her down for too long. Her sentence for the computer crimes she'd been arrested for almost five years ago was almost over. Ian Chandler was the federal agent who'd arrested her, and he was also assigned to "monitor her progress" throughout her sentence.

What that really meant was that he had the right to invade every corner of her life, watch her constantly, ask her anything he wanted, and pry into every detail of her life. If he caught her doing anything he thought broke the rules, he could throw her in jail. No questions asked.

It rankled her that he had so much power over her life, though she'd learned to live with it. Sage was determined never to give him the satisfaction of catching her slipping up — or any kind of satisfaction, for that matter. But he couldn't arrest her for flirting.

Not that he ever expressed interest. Ian was the epitome of straight and narrow. It wasn't in his nature to break the rules or back off of enforcing them. She tempted with him incessantly, knowing he would never cross the line. But that fact only made pushing the limits more enjoyable.

She got up out of the chair and sat on the corner of his very organized desk. The room was clean as a whistle, the chrome gleaming, the windows sparkling clear. Everything was exactly in its place, and Sage pushed a neatly stacked pile of papers carelessly to the side as she made room for herself. She leaned over to throw her empty paper cup in the garbage can, not-so-subtly inviting him to take a peek at what was revealed by the slight sag of her neckline as she did so.

She smiled and swung one slender leg over the other, swinging it as if to some unheard song playing in her head, and picked up a pen to play with between her nimble, tanned fingers.

Sexual innuendo aside, she had been good — not that she had much choice. As much as she liked to mess with Ian, she had no desire to end up in prison, so she also played the straight and narrow, contrary as it was to her nature. There was no way she was going to lose what precious little freedom she had. She'd been a fool for a man once, which was what landed her in this mess in the first place. She wasn't going to do it again.

The first eighteen months of her sentence had been pure hell — house arrest, ensured by a nasty ankle bracelet that she could have removed herself within an hour — if doing so wouldn't have landed her directly in a cement cage.

It seemed extreme for simply letting a virus out on the 'net — especially when she had been duped into doing it. Not that anyone would believe her. Technically she had released it, but the fact that she had no idea what was on the disk she'd slipped into the computer that day didn't matter.

She'd told the one of the investigators who'd questioned her that she didn't write the virus, but he'd clearly thought she was just trying to slip the wrap. And she couldn't prove otherwise; the evidence was damning. Locke, the hacker who had set her up, had made sure of that.

The worst of it was that she'd been banned from any and all use of computers for those five years, a heavy price to pay, though it was better than jail. The judge made use of flexible federal sentencing guidelines and had been cruelly creative.

If Sage was so much as seen near a computer, even in a store, or if she attempted to contact her hacker friends from college, she would go to real prison. She wasn't allowed to own or use anything even remotely computerized, not even a cell phone. Ian was the man who'd tracked her down in the first place, and he was in charge of making sure she minded her P's & Q's. Sage had never been one much for P's & Q's.

Ian's interference in her life had been considerable — she had to check in with him monthly, he stopped by her home unannounced, checked out her house and her habits, checked on her classes when she was in school and later would discuss her with her boss and peers at the plumbing store where she currently worked.

She had even caught him going through her mail on a couple of occasions. She'd never felt safe talking on the phone, though most of her conversations were innocuous — she didn't have many friends, as most of them had been computer junkies just like her. The loss of control over her own privacy was the worst punishment anyone could have concocted for her. The helplessness was sometimes overwhelming.

No part of her life had been safe from Ian's prying eyes. Once she'd been kissing a date good-night in front of her apartment and found out later that Ian had even run a background check on him. She discovered this at her monthly meeting when Ian asked her not to see the guy again because he had a drunk-driving record. She'd railed against the unfairness of it, but it didn't matter.

Since then she'd stayed away from men, except for Ian. Eying him speculatively, she spoke again, "Ian, there's something I wanted to ask you."

"Well, I am almost done with my time. I'll be a free and responsible member of society again within the week. And since you'll be starting a brand new position, and you won't be a federal agent anymore, you won't be held back by those silly ol' rules that say you and I can't have a more personal relationship, right? So, maybe we could--"

She reached over a little farther and slid her hand over his forearm, catching her breath at the hardness of the muscle there, and pursed her lips appreciatively — Ian was not just a desk jockey. The same crisp, black hair that he wore nearly military short was sprinkled over his skin, and she wondered how it would feel to tangle her fingers in it over his chest, and in other places. . . .

Ian's head snapped up at her touch. His eyes weren't cold or distant now, but they were definitely pissed off. She bit her lip, partially because his reaction nearly sent her rocketing off the desk and back into her chair and partially because she'd never thought he was capable of such heat. Did it all just come from anger? Or was there more to it? Right now those irises were dark as slate and she felt herself falling into them, forgetting the moment at hand, where she was, who he was.

She'd never really seen him angry. Usually he was just aloof. A little frisson of excitement danced along her hot skin at making him lose it, if just a little. Now, this was fun. He yanked his arm from under her hand and pushed his chair back, distancing them.

"I don't have to tell you that kind of behavior is completely out of line. There's nothing between us, and you know it. And there never will be. I think it's time for you to go."

She just laughed and got down from the desk, walking slowly around the office, posing in the doorway while turning to look at him, turning on full vixen mode.

"Dead sure. I'll see you next week at your release hearing. Behave yourself until then."

She pouted. He'd sucked that heat right back in and buried it under the cool, unflappable exterior once again. But now she was intrigued. All of a sudden the sense of challenge that had led her to computer hacking in the first place — the urge to find your way into somewhere forbidden, to solve an unsolvable puzzle — tugged at her intensely.

What would it be like to try to get behind those straight and narrow walls that encased Ian so securely? What would be the key that would allow her access to what lie behind them? What would she find there, inside the man who always seemed so tightly under control?

She smiled, waving flirtatiously to Ian as she left the office. What the courts didn't realize is that you didn't get rid of a hacker by taking away their computer — hacking was a way of life, a philosophy, a way of thinking. And some challenges were just too good to resist.

Ian looked up to see Marty Constantine standing in his doorway and shook his head noncommittally.

Ian sat back in his chair, stretching and leveling a look at the man who was both his close friend and his immediate superior. He'd worked frequently with Marty over the years in his position with the FBI, and Ian had nothing but respect for the man.

Though nothing had ever been said, Ian knew that Marty was the reason he had been offered this cherry opportunity so early in his career. It was fairly unusual to move from the federal government to local law enforcement, but the chance to create his own investigation team was no small thing and he'd jumped at the chance.

Ian had spent the last ten years since he was fresh out of grad school at the green age of twenty-three working on the FBI Computer Crime's Task Force. He'd worked his way up through the ranks, but even so, it would have been another twenty years before anything like this would have been handed to him at the federal level, if ever.

He'd lived his job. It had cost him friends. It had cost him his marriage. It was also the one thing in his life he was good at, and it was his number one priority. His dedication had paid off, if not personally then professionally.

He was being given the opportunity to create his own team. It was a small team in a small department in a medium-sized city, but it was still the chance of a lifetime. Norfolk was a small city with a huge government presence, being the largest Navy base in the United States.

Local businesses and citizens were suffering increased problems with hacking and much worse crimes perpetrated via computer and the internet. These were situations street cops and even detectives weren't normally trained to handle, so computer crime labs were being set up in cities all over the country these days, and Norfolk had finally found room in the budget to do the same.

And thanks to Marty Constantine, Ian had been asked to pick the core team and get the project off the ground. Hopefully, it would keep him in one place for a while. Working for the federal government had him chasing felons all over the map. Where trouble went, so went the FBI. Now he had more of a stationary existence.

He might even see his own bed for more than a few nights a month. With any luck, maybe he'd find someone to share it once and a while. Women weren't exactly interested in someone who worked long hours, was gone at the drop of a hat, and didn't know when they would be back. And for Ian, the job had always come first.

"Lots of applicants, but only a few stood out. I'm looking for a certain kind of person — expert, flexible — experienced. It's a small team, I need people with some chops."

"It's up to you, but this is a pretty high-profile project. Taxpayers' money and all that. Let's make sure it works."

Marty nodded. "Things tied up at the agency yet? No pressure — we appreciate you coming in and getting started here a little sooner than planned."

"No problem, Mart. I have a few things left to finish. Shouldn't be a big deal."

"Of course — it was one of the first big feathers in your cap, bringing her in. Sage Matthews. How's she doing? I still remember the pictures from the news. Man, she was a hot one, huh? Even looked good in handcuffs."

Ian sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. "She's at the end of her sentence. Her release hearing is next week, so I'm just finishing up the paperwork on that. One more trip to court and I'll send her on her way, fill out some paperwork with the agency, then I'm all yours."

"Good. I'm looking forward to meeting the new team members when you have them lined up."

"She. Sarah T. Jessup. She's driving down from New York for the interview. We've used her from time to time as a freelance consultant."

"Otherwise meaning an informant?" Ian could detect the skepticism in Marty's voice — informants were not always the cream of the crop in police circles, but Sarah was operating on a different plane.

"A good one. She's offered us integral information over the years with no expectation of compensation or recognition. She has managed to dig out things on the net that we wouldn't have found, she can go places we can't. She's been . . . useful."

Ian sent a disparaging look in Marty's direction. "This is a job interview for HotWires, Marty, not a dating service. Try to drag yourself up into the twenty-first century. Besides, I have no idea if she's cute or not — we've only communicated online and over the phone."

"Hey, I'm just thinking good thoughts for you, buddy. The national statistics say the median age for a second marriage is thirty-four. At thirty-three and counting, you are ripe for the plucking, the way I see it."

Marty grinned, knowing he was pushing Ian's buttons and appeared to be thoroughly enjoying it. Ian stemmed his gut-level response, keeping his buttons in check.

"Rush? Um, yeah, it's been a little more than five years since the divorce, bud. You're a real wild man with the rushing. National stats say that most men remarry within four years--"

"I'm just saying. Maybe Sarah T. Jessup will be the one to make you a statistically viable member of society again."

Ian shook his head and took a long drink of water. He had no intention of gracing that comment with a response. Sarah Jessup could look like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, but as far as Ian was concerned it made no difference — work and sex never mixed. All he cared about was how good she was at her job.

He was curious about her, though. Using the online name Tiger_Lily, she had a reputation as a major computer junkie — a hacker in the most positive sense of the term. Not all hackers were criminals, in fact, the major proportion of people who called themselves hackers were upstanding citizens. Criminal hackers took otherwise creative and useful computer skills and used them recklessly to do intentional harm, or for their own self-gain.

Then there were hackers, like Sage and her friend Locke, who called themselves "hactivists" — hackers who used destructive hacking methods as a form of social protest, attacking the computer systems of multi-national corporations and major polluters and the like.

Unfortunately, the attacks these groups waged often hurt a wider spectrum of people than the groups they targeted. Hacktivists were still often criminal hackers, as Ian saw it — you couldn't start letting politics be an excuse for committing crimes.

Sarah was an example of a legal hacker, someone who was just damned talented with a computer, and who had no intention of breaking the law. She had become a self-appointed informant for the feds, tracking down internet porn rings in her spare time, sending Ian what she found. It was a weird hobby, but info she'd shared had led to several busts. Her information was always right on.

Ian knew that Sarah had an incomplete college degree and no formal police training, but those things could be dealt with. She worked several part-time jobs, lived in a low-cost apartment in the city. He was willing to bet she probably spent more money on computer equipment than food. But she knew her stuff, stayed on the right side of the law, and that's what he was looking for. He trusted his gut about people more than he trusted pieces of paper, anyway. He just had a feeling about her.

Taking a deep breath, Ian furrowed his brow in irritation as he detected the slight, spicy fragrance Sage had worn yesterday still lingering in the otherwise musty air of his office. His hand clenched tightly around the plastic bottle as he felt the familiar wave of desire strike, followed by the dulling sense of frustration.

She was a criminal hacker, someone off limits to him, even if only for the next few days. She was the last connection to his old life and when this gig was over he would cut her loose and forget about her.

Yeah, right. Even though he'd carefully guarded against it, Sage had become more than just another case. He replayed the moment her soft hand moved over the skin of his arm and felt a flash of heat — he could still feel it, her supple skin on his. Her long fingers touching him just for that short moment. Her nails, ragged and bitten to the quick, were painted with daring red polish and he found that was amazingly sexy, because it was on her. That she would wear such a bold color on her short nails was also indicative of Sage — she just didn't accept limitations. Not easily, anyway. And she tempted his, every chance she got.

She'd crawled under his skin and festered there, teasing him constantly. And he was tempted, there was no doubt about that. What red-blooded man could have a woman like that in front of him for years, issuing invitations left and right, and not at least think about it? But red-blooded as he might be, Ian's sense of self-discipline was intact, and Sage was off limits.

It also helped that he knew the come-ons and flirting were just her way of punishing him, of exacting some small bit of revenge for how he invaded her life. She didn't really want him, she just wanted to get back at him. He was just doing his job, and he reminded himself of that every time he let himself think how good she smelled.

There was just something about her that he'd known from the start was going to be trouble. One look into those stubborn green eyes when they'd first met, and a part of him knew she could cause trouble for him as no other woman had. Her wildly curly red hair cinched it. She was like a flame, dancing around him, always just out of reach. She was going to get to him — in all the wrong ways. He just had to hold strong. And he had.

It was his duty to keep tight tabs on her and he had, but maybe he'd put in a little more time than usual. He told himself it was because she couldn't be trusted, because he couldn't drop the ball for one minute with her. He knew the type. They were like drug addicts with computers and were bound to cave sooner or later. But she never did, at least as far as he knew. Still, he watched. Carefully. And he would to the very end.

Marty regarded his thoughtful silence curiously, taking another bite from the apple, the crisp crack of the fruit snapping loudly in the quiet office, breaking the spell of his thoughts. Ian cleared his throat, pushing the thoughts about Sage back where they belonged.

"Sorry. Lots on my mind. Anyway, Jessup's due in here in a few minutes, so I have to get ready."

Ian watched Marty leave and sighed as his friend nearly collided with a woman who appeared in the doorway — an incredibly tall, voluptuous, sable-haired Amazon with blue eyes that grabbed aggressively onto Ian's and didn't let go. Dressed in tight black jeans and a leather jacket — not exactly job interview attire — she didn't disappoint his expectations. Sarah wasn't exactly your typical computer geek — she looked like hell on wheels.

Ian raised an eyebrow as Marty shook his fingers in a "too hot" gesture behind Jessup's head as he moved past her into the hallway — something she shouldn't have seen, but she did. Turning slowly, she fixed an icy blue stare on Marty until he smiled feebly and slinked away.

Chapter Two

Sage sat nervously in the small lounge, the folder containing her resume — her very thin resume — clasped in her lap beneath her folded hands. She waited patiently, even though the appointment for her interview had been more than thirty minutes ago. She was willing to wait — she needed a new job, a real job — something that would allow her to move forward in life.

When she'd seen the classified ad for a security consultant with a local company, she'd jumped at it — plenty of hackers, even those who had been on the wrong side of the law, became high-level security consultants. It was like hiring a reformed thief to help you make sure your house was secure. She figured she stood as much of a chance at the job as anyone.

But as she looked around the room, her confidence evaporated. The other applicants looked younger than she was, were all male, and had folders much thicker than hers. Some even had their laptops with them, or their cell phones and PDAs. Probably none of them had felony convictions.

Was she crazy? There was no way a reputable company like this was going to hire someone like her. She'd sold out on her dreams a long time ago.

Swallowing the lump of anger and despair that formed in her throat, she stood and walked out of the room with as much dignity as she could manage, passing by the other applicants who barely spared her a glance. Well, goody for them, she thought belligerently. Boring bunch of yuppie wannabes.

Except she wanted to be, as well. Wanted to be normal, to have a real life. Wanted to be respected for her talents. Wanted to be valued and accepted. She wanted to show her family that she could be a success, even though she had let them down in so many other ways. Not that they even noticed any more. She knew that getting any of her wants satisfied was going to be a real challenge.

Walking out into the stifling summer air she stripped off the conservative grey blazer she'd spent way too much money on in preparation for the interview. Her hopes had been too high when she'd received the phone call responding to her application — an application that conspicuously left out any hint of her conviction. She figured it would be better to try to explain that in person. Ha. What had she been thinking? She was just glad to have left before she'd gone in there and humiliated herself.

Lifting her face up, the strong rays of the southern mid-day sun felt like a kiss on her skin. The sky was clear and bright, but when she looked forward and tried to see her future, it was just a grey blur, on the personal as well as the professional fronts.

Regardless of the games she played with Ian, there hadn't been many men in her life, not too many decent guys were turned on by a woman who had been convicted of a felony. Those who were weren't the kind of men she wanted to know. How much of that would change when she was free?

Standing in middle of the sidewalk, she let the warmth surround her until a pointed wolf-whistle had her glaring at the source and continuing on her way. She walked down the sweltering city sidewalk to the waterfront, gazing out at the Elizabeth River — Lizzie, as many locals referred to her. She leaned over the rail that ran the length of the park and led down to the Nautilus naval museum, the gigantic battleship, the U.S.S Wisconsin, looming above the museum building. The boats were unbelievably huge, and Sage always blinked at them in sheer amazement, though she had watched them entering and exiting her native waterways for her entire life.

It was a perfect day — the waters were smooth and green, and dolphins were frolicking out in the river as they often did, drawing amazed stares and the clicking of tourist cameras. Turning from the rail before a full-fledged pity party ensued, she headed for the hotdog stand in search of some lunch and companionship.

She'd taken the day off from the shop to go to the interview, so there was nothing else on her schedule. She'd given her two weeks notice anyway — motivation for getting a better job — but now she thought maybe she had been a little hasty in that decision. Feeling the weight of the world, she knew just how to lighten her spirits. As she approached the stand, she heard the gruff laugh she loved filling the air around her.

"Sage! My favorite girl. Woooo, lookie you! All dressed up today!" The older black man leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "Did we have a date and I forgot?"

Sage laughed, her day brightening at the sound of his voice. She responded, her voice playful.

"No, you never ask me out, though I am always waiting. You're my guy, Ray, you know that." She planted a solid kiss on his rough cheek and Ray howled again, his laughter lighting up the park. He handed her a hotdog with everything piled onto it — just the way she liked it — and a cola.

She sat down on the cement block wall behind the stand, munching while Ray waited on some other customers. He'd been around as long as she could remember. Her parents had taken her and her sister to lunch at the park every week when she was a little girl, and that's when she'd met Ray. He became a good friend, and a sort of honorary uncle of sorts.

She had continued to stop by at least once a week, until her arrest. The eighteen months at the beginning of her sentence when she had been confined to home arrest had been the hardest of her life for many reasons, but one of those was because she never got to visit Ray.

Helping himself to a hotdog, he sat next to her, taking a bite and speaking through the food.

"So what has you down here all dressed up, lil' girl? You should be working, huh?"

She nodded, swiping some mustard from her chin with her pinky and sucking it from the end of her finger.

"Hey! Good news! You almost done, almost free. You have to come down here and celebrate on the day."

Sage smiled, but then it faded. "You bet. But free is a relative term, isn't it Ray? I've reached the end of my sentence, but I feel like it will never really be over. I can't escape the past." She knew she sounded sorry for herself in spades, in spite of her attempts not to, but she couldn't help it.

Surprisingly, Ray laughed again, and she looked up, popping the last big of dog into her mouth. He shook his head, sitting down next to her.

"Well, you know, girl, I made my own mistakes, an' been where you are. Been in worse. You have a college degree. I never had none of that, but it's no matter. We can do whatever we want. We make our own luck."

"Depends on what you tryin' to do, don't it? You just gotta find the right thing, that's all." He cleared his throat, and patted her arm. "Don't worry too much. I had a hard time, too, when I got out. People'll forget, it just takes a while. I kept at it, got enough odd jobs to get myself a cart, and found myself a spot to sell lunch. Before you know it I had this stand, right here in this pretty park. No one else is allowed to have their stands here, the city said just me. The Mayor himself. Imagine that."

Sage smiled and nodded quietly, having heard the story a thousand times. She always enjoyed how his face lit up with pride when he told it. But Ray had only told her about his time in jail long after she'd been arrested and was too ashamed to come around to see him. So he'd come to see her, and told her he understood.

He'd never told her why he'd been sent up, but she just knew there was no way this gentle man had ever hurt anyone or anything. She never asked. Ray always bolstered her spirits, he always laughed. He never judged, so she didn't, either.

"Mebbe you aren't cut out for regular, missy. You're more than that. People like you, you're special. You just have to find your place. Just don't plan on coming down here and tryin' to edge old Ray out with your own stand." He teased and laughed again, and she couldn't help but join in.

"No worries there, Ray. I wouldn't even try to compete with you. Everyone knows you're the best."

She threw her arms around him in a tight hug, feeling a real smile form for the first time that day. Looking past his shoulder, she stiffened suddenly, her eyes widening as she saw a familiar figure coming into view, watching her from the other side of the street.

Locke stood at the edge of the park, watching her. She hadn't seen him since before her arrest, and now there he was. She thought she might be seeing things, and blinked, but he was still there. A cold feeling spread up from the base of her spine. Slipping out of Ray's hug, she watched Locke, her heart in her throat as the bright midday sun dimmed behind a cloud and the day darkened again. What was he doing here? Why now?

Ian lifted the steaming cup of coffee to his lips as he reviewed Sarah Jessup's resume and his interview notes from the previous day. He believed he might be looking at the first new member of his team.

True, her formal qualifications were a little light, but she could talk the talk, and she was more than interested. There were lots of people out there with the right education, the right experience, but she had passion. There was a sharpness, an electricity about her that he liked. She knew computers inside and out, and she was a born cop whether she knew it or not. He'd wondered why she never pursued a career in law enforcement and had to suppress a grin when she'd told him she'd thought about it, but didn't like the uniforms. She'd been relieved to know the Hotwires weren't required to wear them.

The lady had talent, but she also had secrets. He had seen the slightest flicker in her eyes when he mentioned doing a background check. When he'd asked her if there was anything she needed to tell him about, she'd closed up like a clam. He would have to see what that was about before hiring her, but he trusted his gut that she was one of the people he was looking for.

There was also no denying that she was, as Marty made a fool out of himself noticing, pretty damned hot — a fact that left Ian cold. He couldn't drum up one even mildly sexual thought about Sarah Jessup, whose ample curves and chocolate brown hair should have at least inspired one. This was doubly annoying because his mind kept wandering back to Sage's silky, copper curls.

Ian couldn't seem to get Sage out of his head. He didn't like being distracted, and that fact urged him to either get the hell away from her or take what she was offering to get it out of his system. He was dangerously close to the latter. What would she do if he took her up on her offer? How would she react if he suddenly changed his tune? Was it all an act on her part, or did she really feel any desire for him at all?

Shaking himself out of his train of thought, he slammed on the mental brakes. No sense going there. He'd gotten out of his office thinking a change of venue would freshen his mind and help him concentrate, but thoughts of Sage followed him wherever he went. It was well and good that it was almost over. Four more days.

He'd taken his laptop and set up at a table in a local waterfront coffee shop for the afternoon. It was a perk that he could avoid the office when he wanted to. He watched groups of tourists file from the tour boats and a large cruise ship was moored in the background. Even from a distance, the ship was enormous. His parents took several cruises each year, but he'd never been on one, preferring to spend his weeks off fishing with his brothers at their camp in Maine or otherwise finding quiet and solitude.

His mom and dad were both career Navy until they'd retired the year before last. Norfolk was the site of one of the biggest Navy bases in the world, and the largest one in the United States. His dad was a commander who had worked on submarines since he was seventeen; he'd spent the last twenty years as Captain of his own boat. Ian's mom was a nurse who eventually found her way onto the big ships as well. And now they took their vacations on boats. Ian didn't understand it, but to each their own.

He sighed and realized that he wouldn't be taking another vacation for a while. He should contact his brothers — Jim, who was older and Gabe, who was younger — and see if they could at least grab a weekend sometime soon before all of his time turned to getting the new team up and running. As his thoughts turned back to work, something familiar appeared in his peripheral vision. Squinting out the window, his gaze drifted to what — or rather who — had caught his eye.

She was standing with the hotdog stand guy she visited every week, but at this time of day he would have expected her to be at work. He made a mental note to check out why she wasn't.

The old guy, Ray, had been convicted on charges of bank robbery back in the sixties, but from what Ian could tell when he'd read over the case, it had been a bad bust and Ray had been hung out to dry more or less because he was convenient — caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. There wouldn't have been much interest in finding justice for a poor black man back then. Either way, he posed no threat, and Sage seemed very fond of him.

Ian couldn't make out the look on her face, but he saw her hug Ray and then slowly move past him to stand on the edge of the walk, her attention focused across the street. Ian followed the path of her gaze and saw her staring at a man who stood across from her, not far from where Ian himself sat in the window. The guy looked roughly her age, but slick, and — Ian's gut signaled him — dangerous. His cop's mind made an automatic assessment.

He was tall. Skinny but built — the kind of guy who always walked away because others underestimated him in a fight. His long hair was tied back and an earring shone in the sunlight. Ian couldn't make out exact facial features, but his hackles rose in response to the way the guy's focus was obviously pinned on Sage. They were making direct eye contact — silent communication streaming across the distance between them. They definitely knew each other.

Ian's internal radar sharpened. Something was up, and it wasn't good. Though he hadn't seen the guy before, he knew the look — he was a walking hacker cliché. Dressed in black, wearing a leather jacket on a hot summer day, an earring and probably several tattoos — he stood out like a sore thumb to anyone who knew the type. Apparently, like many criminal hackers, he had an ego bigger than his brain. Though they'd claim otherwise, they usually wanted to be noticed.

Ian waited to see what would happen, his body tense and poised in the chair, the noise in the coffee shop fading to the background. The man stepped back, taking an envelope from his jacket and slid it into the large pot of flowers by the curb, nodding in Sage's direction before walking away.

A drop, Ian realized. And not even a very subtle one. This guy didn't really care if anyone saw him. Or maybe he was just arrogant enough to think no one was looking.

What was she involved in? Ian's blood first ran cold and then started to simmer — was she an idiot, getting involved with these people when she was so close to finishing out her time? Or had she been involved with them all along, playing Ian for a fool? Sage was clever, no doubt. Maybe more so than he had thought. Maybe for all his supervision, she'd found a backdoor. Maybe her constant flirting was not so much an attempt at control as a method of distraction. Was the guy one of her old group? Someone new? Were they lovers?

His jaw tightened as ugly thoughts raced through his mind. He held himself in check, resisted the urge to run out and confront her, to find out what was in the package. He intended to find out soon enough.

Sage's fingers were numb as she looked through the tangle of blood-red azaleas, her heart beating furiously, to see what Locke had left there. She looked around carefully, but tried not to be too obvious. She was taking a chance, but it wasn't an option to call for help or alert anyone — if Ian knew she'd even seen Locke he'd just throw her in jail without a second thought.

She didn't want to pick up the envelope, but neither did she want to leave it there. Biting her lip, she knew it was meant for her. If someone else found it, it could be just as damning — she had to know what was in there. She could just take it and destroy it so that nothing in it could hurt her or anyone else.

Locke had barely changed in five years, but seeing him made her realize how much she had. In an instant she knew she didn't want him back in her life, and she feared for her freedom. He was still tall and gangly, shrewd and gaunt-looking in a very romantic, poetic way that had appealed to her once before, but left her cold now.

They'd met the summer before her junior year in college, he was an arts major, and she was in computer science. He'd been her first lover, and they'd had some good times. He was passionate and his adventurous spirit in bed had encouraged her own to blossom. Locke had been adventurous in other ways, too.

Though he studied art history, he was a hacker of brilliant proportions. Self-taught, he eschewed formal education and had taught himself everything he knew. And he knew a lot. He studied art as a form of misdirection, camouflage — who would look at an art history student interested in restoration of renaissance paintings and suspect a computer hacker? Sage felt the material of her jacket slide against the paper of the envelope and swallowed.

Walking quickly up the street to her home where she could inspect the package privately, she looked around suspiciously, making sure she was alone. It wasn't good news that Locke had showed up now. Being seen anywhere around him could violate her sentencing agreement.

Throwing her jacket on the table, she held the thickly padded envelope in her hands and just stood quietly for a few minutes. Finally, when she ripped at the paper an old zip disk and a letter fell out. She bent to pick them up from the floor. The disk was unlabeled, and she certainly didn't have a computer to read it with. She opened the white slip of paper, feeling her heart sink.

She closed her eyes when confronted with her old "nym" — her hacker pseudonym or nickname. Locke had christened her with it when he had discovered her budding talent for creating creative "bugs" or computer viruses. It was something she did for fun; she never let any of them loose on the net. It was enough for her to try to make the code work. She'd broken into some sites, sure, most hackers did — but she never was destructive in any way. That ended with her association with Locke.

I know this must be a surprise — hopefully a happy one. I've never forgotten you, you'll have to believe me that nothing is farther from the truth. I can only hope you still care, since you didn't tell them about me. You proved your loyalty. I've thought of you every day for the last five, long years. I've missed you, babygirl.

Her skin crawled as she remembered how he always called her that and she'd loved it, practically worshipping him, how he made her feel like she was something special. Like someone finally understood her. Locke had understood her — well enough to take advantage of her.

Remember the evenings we spent in the grotto planning our attacks? Well, it's done, babygirl. It's a true work of art, a testament to your sacrifice. I worked every day to finish what you started, and now it's finished and ready to go. When you're free, we'll celebrate this great accomplishment together.

Sage's hands were shaking now, and the note fell from her hands to the floor. She stared at the disk, her heart in her throat. She didn't need a computer to know what was on it — it was the thing that would take away her freedom for good.

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