Her Covert Protector by Victoria Paige

8

Motherfuckers.

Take that!

Breaking into Huxley’s computer was easy. Finding the Crown-Key itself was trickier. But almost two weeks later, Nadia was finally able to break the encryption on a sector of Huxley’s code repository in the cloud and secured the Crown-Key source code on their own CTTF server. She harnessed part of her own decryption program and her familiarity with Huxley’s character to break into it. Part of hacking involved guesswork.

She passed it into their own encryption program when Kelso walked in. “Hey, nerd girl, you ready?”

“Yes, just locking up.” She blew the hair from her face.

“You worked hard on this, Nadia.” Kelso came up behind her. “Any more info on that malware you found lurking around the sector you decrypted earlier?”

“No, but I was able to set up a shield so they couldn’t access the code.”

Kelso peered over her shoulder and at multiple split screens. “How do you read that shit? All I see are brackets, parentheses, and gibberish words.”

“It’s another language to me.”

Kelso chuckled. “That’s why guys over here are intimidated to ask you out. You’re smarter than they are.”

She angled her gaze at him. “And I have no patience for men who are intimidated by a woman with a brain.”

Her friend gave a snort. “Gotcha. I’ll clue them in.” After a few seconds, his face turned serious, although mirth still gleamed in his eyes. “Have you informed Homeland Security?”

“Yup. Sent them a secure transmission.”

“Good,” Kelso said again. “No lead on the device yet?”

She sighed. “None.”

The detective checked his watch. “Your dad must hate me and Gabby by now. You haven’t had a break in two weeks.”

“I’ve had worse. And the rest of the team worked just as hard. Any insight from the Hux Technologies employees you interviewed?”

“Nothing solid. Kenneth Huxley is the classic introvert.”

“Except when he’s entertaining.” But Nadia knew it was a mask. The real Ken liked solitude and to tinker on his programs. “I feel bad for them. I don’t think anyone is in a position to take over.”

“Yeah.” Kelso pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Enough work talk and let’s get out of here. Let me feed you at least.”

After packing up and locking her lab, they passed a group of the night-shift detectives who gave them a knowing look.

“Ugh, you’ve been seeing me home for a week now. Where’s Levi?”

“What? You sick of my company already?”

They made it out to the parking lot. “No. Just wondering where he is.”

“He had an emergency.”

“Are Kelly and the girls all right?”

“It’s work related.”

Nadia tried to keep from asking another question. John didn’t show up that Monday as he promised. More than two weeks later, there was still no communication from him. He tried calling her the morning he left, but, as usual, his paranoid ass refused to leave a message. She hadn’t heard from him since. Good thing her determination to solve Ken’s murder left her no time for anything else. He was murdered in one of his Santa Monica properties and then his death was staged back at the penthouse. But why? Was that where he kept the Crown-Key device? A wave of dizziness hit her, and she stumbled while walking.

Kelso gripped her arm. “Hey, you okay?”

“Haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“You’ve been working too hard. Have you been drinking water?”

“No,” she smiled sheepishly. Kelso was such a drill sergeant about water intake even when he plied her with sixteen-ounce caramel macchiatos as incentive to prioritize his requests.

In the past three days, the detective had been picking her up for work after his workouts at the gym and taking her home in the evenings. He and Gabby had been working overtime like she was. With Homeland Security already involved, it could become stickier and more complicated if a rogue nation was involved.

When they got into the SUV, he immediately handed her a bottle of water.

“Fancy eating gyros?” Kelso asked.

“At the Athena Loft Deli?” It was a Greek and Mediterranean grill with an attached grocery. “At this point, I’ll eat anything. And Dad mentioned picking up pomegranate paste if I get to a store that had it before he did.” Nadia uncapped the bottle and drank a healthy dose of water. She was parched despite guzzling too much caffeine not two hours ago. Kelso threw her a look and gave a shake of his head.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, really.”

“You finished that bottled water.”

“I thought you wanted me to hydrate.”

“Carefully,” Kelso shot her a look again. “Anything over four ounces every half hour is wasted.”

“Where the hell did you read that?”

“Somewhere,” was his flippant reply. “Besides, we’re going to hit traffic.”

As they merged onto the 101, heading for the Middle Eastern neighborhood near her place, Nadia wanted to pound her head on the dashboard. “Shit.”

“Yup,” Kelso said wryly. “If your bladder is as tiny as Woodward’s, it’s going to be either a tolerable ten minutes or a tense forty-five.”

Up ahead, the braking red lights of vehicles taunted her.

“No,” she groaned. She was already feeling the pressure from the caffeine, and it must be mental, but she was immediately hit with an urge to pee.

The detective glanced over at her with sympathy. “Maybe half an hour.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Kelso took the exit for Vermont Avenue. “I can’t believe you made me fucking do that.”

“It was an emergency,” she protested.

“It’s an abuse of authority.”

“Would you prefer I peed in your car?”

“It’s LAPD property. What do I care?”

Nadia laughed despite her full bladder. “You’d care if Gabby made you sit in it.”

“I always drive,” he muttered.

She had whined at Kelso, forcing him to use the police lights so they could use the shoulder about a mile from their exit. They’d been crawling on the freeway for thirty-five minutes and the caffeine plus water made it an unbearable journey. Besides, she was in this predicament because she was working overtime and she hadn’t eaten. She felt justified enough that she was working for the benefit of the city.

“We’re almost at the deli, but I see some nice shrubs over there,” Kelso said when they passed a gas station with landscaping separating it from the road.

“Don’t be a smartass to a woman who’s barely holding on to her bladder.”

Kelso mumbled something.

“What?”

The vehicle went over a speed bump.

Her bladder didn’t like that.

“Eh, I think I just peed a little.”

Kelso glanced at her in horror. “Say it isn’t so, Powell.”

Nadia burst out laughing. She wasn’t sure if that was a good idea either. “You should see your face. Don’t worry, I didn’t.”

Her friend chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ve been hanging around us guys for too long. Our toilet humor is rubbing off on you. You’re double-dosing between our team and the three old farts at your apartment with your dad.”

She grinned. “I’m glad you didn’t include my dad in the three old farts.”

“Is it my imagination or is Dugal not fond of me?” Kelso swerved the SUV into the Mediterranean restaurant’s parking lot.

Nadia didn’t answer and hopped out. Before slamming the door, she said, “Hold that thought. Get me a lamb gyro with extra tzatziki.”

After her much-needed stop at the ladies’ room, Nadia grabbed a basket and started grocery shopping while Kelso waited for their orders. With her unpredictable hours, it was best to run her errands with whatever sliver of time she could scramble. Among some of the diverse cuisine in Los Angeles, Persian food was something she and her dad were fond of. Her dad’s former girlfriend, Sara, was an Iranian widow. They were together for two years and Nadia was treated to the most delicious home-cooked meals. When they broke up because Sara had to return to Iran to take care of her ailing mother, Nadia cried. She wasn’t sure if it was partly because she was going to miss Sara’s cooking or her nurturing soul. However, the woman, bless her kind heart to the sixteen-year-old Nadia, made sure she and her dad were equipped to cook the food they loved from her.

She wondered if Stephen would have married again. He hadn’t been serious with another woman since then. He told Nadia that her mother was the greatest love of his life. She also wondered if her father wanted her to have a sort of mother figure growing up, especially during her adolescent years.

Putting a pack of dried limes, dried fenugreek, and a bottle of pomegranate paste in her basket, she headed over to the nuts section to weigh some walnuts for Stephen—and her—Fesenjan, a stew made with pomegranate molasses, and crushed walnuts. Saliva pooled under her tongue. She’d been craving the sourness of pomegranate recently.

Kelso signaled that he was done and stood aside so his big frame wouldn’t be in the way. Nadia walked toward one of the counters to pay. As she was adding a container of pastries, the store’s bell tinkled and for some reason her senses made her look in that direction.

Two men walked in. Caucasian. One was blond and the other had brown hair. The blond man was almost albino-like. Swedish maybe? The man’s neck was covered in ink. His gaze strayed to her briefly before looking up at the menu above the food counter.

Nadia’s eyes flew to Kelso who was already making his way toward her. The amiable detective was nowhere in sight, his face closed off, his jaw hardening. When he got to her side, he easily blocked her from the newcomer’s view.

“That’ll be forty-eight dollars and twenty cents.”

Her attention momentarily diverted back to the cashier, and she quickly settled her purchases. Normally, Kelso would offer to carry the bags, but not this time. He was making sure he could draw his gun quickly in case the suspicious strangers proved hostile. They exited the store, on alert for any lurkers.

It was a relief when they got into the vehicle and merged onto Beverly Boulevard.

“That was weird,” Nadia said. “You felt that creepy vibe too?”

“Yeah.” Kelso checked the rearview mirror. “I’ve been interviewing guys who fit their profile. Both men were wearing jackets, but I could see their tattoos peeking out on the back of their hands. And you saw their necks?”

“Yes. You think Russian Bratva?”

“Another guy I interviewed in relation to Brandt’s case revealed that the Kremlin, through the Russian Bratva, is working with the Argonayts on a special mission.”

Nadia’s blood chilled. They were elite hackers who targeted countries opposed to Russian policy. The Argonayts went after electrical grids, banking systems, and other services that were computerized for blackmail or ransom.

“That’s our worst nightmare. The rolling blackout last summer—”

Oncoming vehicle lights blinded her. A scream lodged in her throat as Kelso cursed and yanked their vehicle into a swerve. Their tires rolled over rumble strips and it veered one way and then another.

“Hang on!” Kelso yelled. All Nadia could do was hang on, her fingernails digging into the handle and the dashboard.

Nadia glanced behind them. “They’re following us.”

“I know,” Kelso gritted. “Those men in the store—fuck!”

Something rammed the front of their vehicle. The seatbelt bit across her body, sending excruciating pain in its wake. Screeching tires and metal scraping over metal shrieked in her ears.

Her head hurt.

Her spine hurt.

Nadia struggled to shake the cobwebs from her head and tried to reach for her backpack. Her gun.

“Get out of here,” he told her. “Move!”

Her hand closed on the handle, but her door was yanked open, and she was hauled bodily from the vehicle.

“Nadia!” Kelso roared.

Gunshots exploded around her as her assailant dragged her to a waiting car. She scratched and kicked.

“Do you have her backpack?” A voice shouted.

“Tak.” Another answered.

Ukrainian?

She stomped on her assailant’s foot and rammed her elbow into him. The masked man let go of her, and she tried to scramble away. “Kelso!”

Fingers dug into her scalp, almost ripping her hair out while the force of it shoved her against the side of a black SUV. That jolt of agony stole the breath from her lungs, the strength from her legs. Giving in to gravity, she crashed to the ground.

The spray of lead escalated around her. Oh my God, Kelso was alone!

“Get up!”

A boot hit her thigh. Nadia tried to lever up, bracing for a second kick but it never came.

A body dropped in front of her.

It was her assailant’s.

“Kelso!” she croaked, trying to push up.

But it wasn’t Kelso who gathered her into his arms.

It definitely wasn’t Kelso who gave her a searing kiss that ended quickly.

It was a kiss Nadia would’ve recognized anywhere.

Sounds buzzed around her.

The face was shadowed but there was no mistaking that imposing profile.

Garrison.