A Father's Sacrifice

Windows. Lots of windows. “Any chance I could work upstairs somewhere?”

“No. Out of the question.” Stryker eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure you can handle this job?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, thankful her voice was still steady. She had a job to do. And that meant forgetting that there were truckloads of dirt and an entire mansion over her head. Her career was on the line. She had to succeed—windows or no windows.

“I assume I can start right away.” The quicker she got started, the quicker she could expose the hacker and get out of this hole in the ground.

“Alfred’ll take care of anything you need,” Stryker said with a wave of his hand.

As he turned away, his gaze met hers in a fleeting, intense glance that seared her to the bone. His clear blue eyes burned as brightly as an oxygen flame, warming her cheeks and stirring a cauldron of unexpected emotions within her.

He might be tired and unkempt, underfed and distracted, but Dylan Stryker exuded an air of command and—she searched for the right word…masculinity…that hummed through her like the ring of a perfectly pitched tuning fork. She blinked and dropped her gaze.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Stryker headed back to his lab.

Natasha felt stunned. According to his file, Stryker was thirty-three, and already known worldwide for his breakthroughs with computer-assisted mobility in nerve-damaged patients.

Natasha had studied everything the FBI had on him, including clippings from the tabloids. He’d been thirty when his wife was killed three years before.

It has long been rumored that Stryker’s infant son did not die in the mysterious car crash that killed his wife….

Natasha stared at Stryker’s broad shoulders and lean hips until she realized Mintz had left her behind again. She hurried to catch up. He used his thumbprint and keyed in digits from a pass code generator. The door clicked open to reveal a small foyer banked with elevators.

“Where are we going? I need to start work.”

Mintz punched the call button. “I’ll show you to your room first, so you can freshen up. Have you eaten?”

She nodded, finding it difficult to pull her thoughts away from Dylan Stryker. He was so completely different from her expectations. He was driven, maybe even obsessed. But there was something else about him. Something dark and haunted lurked behind his brilliant blue eyes.

“I assume you’ve been fully briefed on our situation?” Mintz asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m here to stop a hacker and construct a firewall. And of course, to help with physical security.”

Mintz shook his head. “Physical security is not your job. Two of your fellow agents are on the outside to help my staff handle that. You concentrate on the computer.”

Irritation stiffened her shoulders. “I’ve studied the aerial photos. You’ve done a good job of camouflaging the house.”

Too good for her taste. This was her first assignment since her injury. And now she understood why Decker had given her a choice. He’d told her that the staff psychiatrist had declared her minimally qualified. At the time she was furious, and eager to prove the shrink wrong.

Now she got it. How ironic that this job tapped into her worst fears. Before her injury, this would have been just another assignment, and her mild claustrophobia would be manageable. But now she was fighting for her career. If she couldn’t conquer her irrational fear of closed spaces, she’d lose her job.

She suppressed a shudder, drew in a lungful of conditioned air and repeated the mantra Dr. Shay had given her to calm her panic.

Quiet and safe. Plenty of fresh air. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

It was nighttime now, but she knew from the photos Decker had shown her that even during the day, the massive house was shrouded in darkness. “I saw the infrared photos. How do you keep from broadcasting body heat?”

“The canopy that stretches over the entire house is made of a specially designed heat-repelling mesh,” Mintz answered. “Some sunlight does get in. But it’s very good camouflage.”

“Right. The perfect hiding place,” she said wryly.

“Not perfect,” Mintz responded. “We do what we can to quash any rumors that this is Dylan’s base of operations. But occasionally somebody tries to breach the walls, or flies over in a helicopter. Usually paparazzi.”

The faint note of disapproval in his voice intrigued her. She looked at him, but his stern face gave away nothing.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

“And now it looks like we’ve got a hacker.”

“Did I understand that your computer guy said he got in and out clean?”

He nodded. “Jerry Campbell. He’s the bioengineer working with Dylan. He assured us the hacker left nothing behind.”

“Bioengineer? Who’s handling the computer system?”

Mintz cleared his throat impatiently. “Dr. Stryker wants as few people involved as possible.”

“I don’t know how good a bioengineer he is but he’s wrong about the hackers. They always leave something,” Natasha said firmly. “I need to talk with him, find out what he saw.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight? What he tells me will help determine what other equipment I’ll need.”

Mintz shook his head. “He’s busy with Dylan tonight.”

“Well, maybe when he takes a break,” she said impatiently. She needed to get finished and get out. The assignment was already giving her the creeps.

The FBI shrink’s evaluation taunted her. Hasn’t fully dealt with her claustrophobia. She had to defeat the feeling of losing control if she was going to succeed.

“Believe me, Agent Rudolph. We’re anxious for you to get started. Get the equipment you brought set up tonight. Assess the system. Decide what else you need. Then first thing tomorrow, you can meet Campbell and have him brief you on the hacker’s movements.”

Natasha started to press him, but he held up his hand.

“Dylan’s at a critical point in the debugging process right now. I’m surprised he stopped long enough to exercise, although with the amount of tension he’s carrying around…” Mintz set his jaw. “He needs you, but he resents the time it’s going to take to bring you up to speed. Time is the one thing he doesn’t have. If you’re as good as your superiors say you are, he’ll figure it out soon enough.”

She tried one last frontal attack. “NSA is extremely anxious to get their hands on that interface.”

“NSA is not Dylan’s primary concern.”

Before she could ponder that comment, the elevator doors slid open, and they stepped out into the atrium through which she’d entered. It was laid out in brightly veined Italian marble. A mezzanine lined with bookshelves bisected the walls.

The high ceiling was crowned by a massive domed skylight. Although the sun had set, a pink and purple glow filtered through the glass dome.

“I assume the skylight is shielded, too?”

Mintz glanced up. “Yep. The mesh doesn’t block the moon and stars as much as it does the sun. And there’s clear plastic sheeting to keep out the rain while allowing a little sunlight in.”

The vise that had squeezed her chest since she got here loosened a bit. She took a long cleansing breath. At least she could see the sky—sort of.