Cold Silence Read online

  She felt a thousand years old.

  Her food arrived and she was on her second wing when a new group of people walked in. She recognized some of them from the operation last week even though they were wearing casual clothes today. The Hostage Rescue Team. She was at the end of the bar sitting in the shadows but she saw them catalogue everyone in the place before some of them settled into an empty booth while others ranged along the bar on the opposite side of the room.

  Her heart pounded and her appetite faded away.

  The Marines might be young, good-looking and in great shape, but the HRT guys exuded an air of rock-solid self-assurance and absolute competence that was compelling. Every one of them looked in peak physical condition. Broad shoulders, lean torsos, powerful legs. And it wasn’t even their physiques that was the most impressive thing about them. It was the way they held themselves with the utmost confidence—the tilt of their jaw, the intelligence in their calm but constantly vigilant eyes, the set of their mouths.

  The barkeep placed her beer on the bar and she glanced over her shoulder at Laura. Her date had moved so he sat beside her on the bench seat and they were facing one another, Laura all giggling coyness and animated excitement. The two of them looked absorbed in one another and as if they were getting on wonderfully.

  Yael grimaced and took another swallow of beer.

  Maybe she was the one with the problem. Actually, she was definitely the one with the problem. She picked at the label on her bottle. At least Shane Livingstone wasn’t with the HRT group. Even as the thought popped into her head, the door opened again and in he walked with a good-looking African American guy she hadn’t seen before. Shane didn’t seem to see her and she put her head down, letting her hair hide her features as she concentrated on her food, hoping to fade into the woodwork.

  She hadn’t expected to encounter the guy ever again and had been relieved by that thought. He’d seen her fail on every front—even the thing she was supposed to be exceptional at.

  Her foot tapped nervously against the footrest. She doubted he’d even remember her. He’d lost one of his colleagues that day and she knew that didn’t happen to these guys very often. They trained too hard to mess up.

  One of the group raised his beer bottle in a toast she couldn’t quite hear over the noise of the jukebox. The others joined him in the salute. She recalled suddenly that Alex had gone to the funeral yesterday of the man who’d died.

  They were toasting their lost colleague, Dave “Scotty” Monteith.

  Yael rubbed her hand over the base of her sternum as the few things she’d eaten and drunk tonight swirled uncomfortably in her stomach. How disrespectful would it look that she was here having a drink and some food as if nothing had happened?

  Did they all know how badly she’d messed up? If she’d been faster or simply better at her job, she might have figured out Evi1Geni-us wasn’t where he was pretending to be. Sure, a laptop had been streaming the video feed of the torture while Anya Baker’s blood-streaked corpse had slowly cooled and stiffened in real time—and Yael had tracked that VPN-cloaked computer faster than almost anyone else on the planet could have done. But the UNSUB himself had already left the building after uploading the sound-stripped version of the video with the prepared fake polls. The bastard had also set up cameras to film the HRT explosion from two angles—one inside the room, one outside—presumably recording the footage before cutting the connection and, once again, disappearing into the ether. Apparently, he liked to have video evidence of his crimes which would be great if they ever caught him. It was unlikely he’d trust that sort of information to the cloud. More likely he had multiple copies squirreled away somewhere.

  She wanted to help track him down along with that evidence.

  Then she wanted him incarcerated somewhere he could never hurt anyone else ever again. Or dead.

  As much as she was generally opposed to violence, she’d make an exception in this case. She was fine with this man ceasing to exist as long as it stopped the killings.

  He’d made over a million dollars last week alone and people had even sent him bonuses when he’d played the footage of the explosion, mocking the FBI and their efforts to catch him. She’d expected her face and online alias to also be streamed at the end of the video. What twisted serial killer/black-hat hacker wouldn’t be bragging about turning the tables on the people hunting him?

  But he’d held that piece of information back for now.

  Once he went public, she wasn’t sure what might happen. Would someone recognize her and expose her again? She did not want her past and her present to collide. She didn’t want to have to disappear again.

  Her hand shook as she closed her fingers around the neck of her beer bottle and raised it to her lips.

  “Hey.”

  She jerked in her seat and beer ran down her chin. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the mess running down her neck and spotting her favorite t-shirt.

  FBI Special Agent Shane Livingstone rested his plaster cast on the bar as the Marines playing pool eyed him with amusement, obviously expecting him to get shot down the same way they had.

  6

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Yael crumpled the napkin in her fist. Dammit. She couldn’t believe she’d zoned out like that. He must think she was a total freak.

  “You okay?” He had a slight southern drawl she hadn’t noticed before but now made sense. He watched her with an expression she couldn’t interpret.

  “Yeah. Why?” Even as she spoke, she regretted the sharpness of her tone. One of his colleagues had recently died, someone he’d been close to if his anguish last week had been anything to judge by. She softened her voice. “You?”

  “Fine.” He looked away, maybe reflecting on the same memories, with the same reluctance to have his feelings probed as she did. He held up his finger to the barkeep for a drink. “I heard what happened after I left.”

  Yael stiffened.

  “Is Sphinx your real name?”

  “No.” But it had been her favorite online moniker. “Why?”

  He smoothed his good hand over his short, light brown hair. “Because frankly the idea that Evi1Geni-us might know your real name and what you look like would be a little concerning.”

  She blinked. People didn’t usually worry about her. She didn’t let them.

  “You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale…”

  She glanced at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She looked haggard and the circles under her eyes reflected her inability to sleep lately. She’d better break out the concealer next time she decided to leave the house.

  “Yeah. Seeing you guys walk in here reminded me about last week.” Not that she’d been able to forget for very long.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, too.” Shane propped both elbows on the bar. She noticed he wore a smaller cast than he had last week. This one allowed his elbow to bend. His sling hung unused around his neck. The subtle scent of pine tantalized her senses suggesting he’d recently showered. She shifted away a little because she didn’t want to be so aware of this man.

  “And the fact he is out there planning to do it again pisses me the fuck off.”

  “Me too,” she agreed.

  He stole one of her chicken wings and she suddenly felt hungry again so she took another, wiping her greasy fingers on a clean napkin before offering him the bowl. “Help yourself.”

  “Any chance he can find out where you live?” Shane asked between bites.

  A shiver danced over her shoulders as she placed the bones in a separate bowl. She dabbed her mouth. The thought of someone that evil focusing on her was terrifying. Hard to imagine she’d get lucky a second time.

  “We’ve taken some precautions and as a matter of fact I just moved so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Coincidence? Or were you that worried? Because I personally think you should be worried and getting off the X is probably the smartest thing to do.
” Shane’s sharp gaze held hers.

  Getting off the X?

  She turned on her stool to face him. A groan erupted from the Marines playing pool and money seemed to be changing hands.

  “Friends of yours?” Shane asked with a side glance.

  “Random dudes doing weird random dude shit.” She cleared her throat. “I never told you last week how sorry I was. About your friend. I’ll never forgive myself for the mistakes I made. For not figuring out sooner that it wasn’t live…”

  He leaned back against the bar and stretched out his long legs. He was a lot taller than she was.

  He stared at the floor for so long she didn’t think he was going to acknowledge her words. Finally, he nodded. “Scotty was a good man. The best in fact. His wife Grace is pregnant with their third kid.”

  A coil of grief curled around her insides. “Christ.”

  The barman dropped something behind the bar. It smashed on the floor and she jumped an inch off her stool.

  Shane didn’t flinch. “It’s okay. Just a broken glass.” He gave the guy a look and then ignored him. “Anyway, why do you have to be sorry? It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I didn’t figure it out in time and people died. Somehow, he exploited a vulnerability in my system. So, it was partly my fault and I’ll have to deal with that.” Her voice came out a little ragged.

  Shane was watching her carefully. “He fooled a lot of smart people.”

  It was her turn to look away.

  “Just keep in mind, this is on him.” The words were sharp. “We were trying to stop him from brutally murdering someone. He planted that bomb. He used the distraction to weasel his way into your computer. Don’t blame yourself.”

  She pressed her lips together to prevent any more useless words leaving her mouth. He obviously wasn’t buying her feelings of guilt. Probably because he had enough of his own to bear.

  “Any news on the investigation?” he asked with feigned nonchalance.

  Now she realized why he’d sought her out.

  “I’m not allowed to discuss the case outside of the task force.” Even though he was HRT and had been with them in Houston, he wasn’t assigned to the joint task force.

  “Did you figure it out? How he got into your computer?”

  Yael tilted her head to one side. Then she put her forefinger and thumb together and drew it across her lips, mimicking the way he had last week.

  Heat flickered in his gaze for a moment and then was gone. Or maybe she imagined it or was mistaking humor for lust.

  You look pale.

  Ha.

  She looked like crap. No way would this guy find her attractive—not that she was looking to start anything anyway. She wasn’t. Her phone dinged with a text and she checked the screen. Then spun around.

  “Your friend and her date left a couple of minutes ago.” Shane had obviously recognized Laura from Houston.

  “What?” Yael blinked stupidly at their empty seats. Laura and suit guy had gone somewhere else and she’d been so completely absorbed with this man she hadn’t even noticed. “She doesn’t even know the guy.”

  Yael opened the message on her phone.

  Laura: Didn’t want to interrupt you and the hunky beefcake…

  A row of emojis suggested Yael was going to get very lucky with a whole array of vegetable matter this evening.

  Laura: Owen and I are going to find somewhere quieter to talk and then I’m going to head home to DC. Enjoy!

  Yael gritted her teeth, then realized Shane was reading the messages too. Her gaze swept to his and heat blazed in her cheeks. She decided to ignore the obvious.

  “She literally met this guy tonight off of a dating app.” She slipped the phone into her jeans back pocket.

  “She often hook up with guys off the internet?”

  Yael shrugged. She didn’t want to come off seeming puritanical or judgmental. Not everyone shared her trust issues nor her emotional hang-ups. “She likes meeting new people and says sex should be more of a workout than an intimate moment.”

  Shane choked on his beer then wiped his mouth. “Well, I guess if you do it right, it should be both.”

  The air between them suddenly charged.

  Yael broke eye contact and drained the last of her beer. Her cheeks felt singed with heat and she avoided looking at her reflection in the mirror.

  “Well, I was here as her wing woman tonight in case the guy turned out to be a total jerk, but I guess she doesn’t need me anymore.” She placed the empty bottle on the bar. “I may as well head home.”

  “You live around here?” he asked in surprise. “I guess that’s a dumb question since you said you just moved, presumably you are still on the task force, and you’re here in this bar. Unless you’re only in Quantico for the task force meeting. Or stalking me.” He sent her a self-deprecating grin that made her pulse thrum in a way she’d forgotten could be fun.

  She ignored her stupid fluttering heart. “As of two days ago I guess I do live around here.”

  Something flickered in his gaze then was gone. “You never answered the question. Did you move because you were worried about a certain someone or was it a happy coincidence?”

  Shane Livingstone sure asked a lot of questions.

  She forced herself to unclench her jaw. The tension she’d been carrying all week was making her head start to pound again. “Alex Parker put me in charge of the cybercrime unit of our new satellite office down here, so I’d already planned to move.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Because I’m female?”

  Those green eyes shifted to disappointment. In her. “Because you look so young.”

  “Oh.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, feeling flustered all of a sudden. “Last week’s events and working on this joint task force speeded things up a little. Well, a lot, actually.”

  She could see his neurons firing at a thousand volts a second. Why was he so interested? Was it because of what she might tell him about the case, or something else…?

  “Traceable?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Your new place. Can he who cannot be named link it to the image of Sphinx he captured online?”

  She shuddered. “No. I bought it using an offshore shell company which seems very suspect but is completely legit. He shouldn’t be able to find me online but if he really wants to find me, eventually he will. Given enough time, access to certain databases, or the right social engineering skills you can find almost anyone. You only need a starting point.”

  “Except him apparently,” Shane muttered, taking a swig of beer. “For some reason we can’t find him.”

  Was that a criticism? “We’ll find him.”

  But how many more people would die before that happened?

  She felt the weight of Shane’s stare and picked nervously at the label on her beer bottle. Being alone with this man who’d seen her fail at the one thing she was supposed to be good at was disconcerting.

  She needed to get out of here before he managed to eke out information she wasn’t supposed to share. She didn’t want to get thrown off the team. She needed to prove that Evi1Geni-us wasn’t better than she was. It wasn’t ego. She needed to help track him down, to prove that she was one of the good guys. The FBI had to catch him. The asshole deserved whatever he got from the justice system.

  She pulled out her wallet and tossed some cash on the bar to cover her tab. Then she grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her stool. Swung it over her shoulders and down her arms in one smooth motion.

  Shane’s eyes flicked over her body without changing expression. Most people she could read, but not this guy.

  “I better go.” She pushed back her stool.

  “Come have a drink with us. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

  She glanced at their forced cheer. “They’d probably rather not meet anyone new tonight.”

  His lashes swept down and she knew she’d struck a nerve. Then he looked up again. “They always
like to meet beautiful, single women—assuming you’re single?”

  She blinked at him in surprise. Beautiful? Ha. Hardly. Was he fishing for information because he was interested in her personally or did he want to sweet talk her into giving him information or did he want to set her up with one of his friends?

  For all she knew he could be married with kids. She glanced at his ring finger. No wedding band, but that didn’t mean much.

  She looked over at the group of men and women all laughing and joking despite their loss. She had to admire their spirit because she knew instinctively that this had hit them hard no matter how bright the smiles or too loud the laughter.

  The tug toward them, the idea of getting to know them, and belonging, tempted her, but it would be a mistake.

  “I am single, funnily enough.” She quirked a brow with forced sardonic humor. “Thanks for the offer but I’m going to head home. I’ll catch you guys another time.” She brushed past him, ignoring the little jolt of awareness that zapped her skin as the back of her hand brushed his.

  She headed past the curious Marines who started to give Shane hell. Which was unfair under the circumstances—he hadn’t been hitting on her—but she wasn’t about to stick around and listen to him explain how they worked together. She nodded to another guy from HRT whom she recognized from last week but avoided catching the gazes of the others. She didn’t want to be an object of curiosity. She didn’t want them to know the part she’d played in the reason for them being down a team member.

  Outside, she paused for a moment to inhale the bitterly cold January air. It was quiet here, the bar tucked down a road near the marina. No residential houses nearby. She was so close to the sea she could smell the tang of brine on the breeze. The temperature made her shiver and huddle deeper into her jacket.

  The parking lot was empty of people. Laura’s car was gone from the spot where they’d left it earlier. Yael was annoyed with her friend but she sent her a quick text to check she was okay.

  It was about two miles to her new place and if it wasn’t for the memory of what she’d witnessed last Friday night she’d have started hiking along the dark road already. Instead, she pressed the icon to call a rideshare.