LITMIR.BIZ

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her mouth. “I wonder how long this has been going on.”

      “A tech can probably tell you that by looking at the program. It’ll have a date on it.”

      “But how did you know? How did you know where to look?” The veil of her preconceived notions about Cam Sutton lifted—and she liked what she saw even more. Brawn and brains.

      “About a year ago, my sister was being stalked.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It became apparent that her stalker was watching her in her private moments. One of her friends, a real computer geek, came over to inspect her computer. First she watched for the blinking LED, and then she did a search for a common Trojan used to infect the computer and allowing an outside source to gain control of it. I looked for and found that same virus on your laptop.”

      Martha’s mind raced and reeled over the times she’d had her laptop open in her bedroom, not bothering to shut it down. She hugged herself, digging her fingers into her upper arms. “Get it off. Can you get it off?”

      “I can delete it. Hell, you can delete it, but I don’t know if that removes it from everywhere. It’s probably best if you take the laptop in or call someone to do it.” Cam tapped his chin with his index finger. “I wonder if they could hear us, too.”

      “At least we were spared that. The microphone on my laptop doesn’t work. No sound in. No sound out.”

      “That’s an unexpected bonus.” He hunched forward, digging his elbows into his knees. “Whoever was watching you saw me, but at least that person won’t know who I am and how I’m connected to Denver.”

      She handed him the glass and pushed at his solid shoulder. “Put that in the sink or get yourself more. I’m going to open this up and delete that program. Then I’ll take my computer in and get the virus removed from everywhere else.”

      Glass in hand, Cam pushed up from the sofa while Martha flipped open the laptop, keeping her thumb over the camera lens. She gasped and nearly drove her finger through her computer as a parade of skulls and crossbones marched across her display, the word busted floating between the grinning teeth.

      Cam clinked the glass on the countertop. “What’s wrong?”

      “Come and look at this. He knows I...you discovered the commandeered camera. He’s admitting he’s busted.”

      “Son of a gun.” Cam hovered over her shoulder. “Cheeky bastard.”

      “I wish I could just communicate with him and ask him what he wants. Oh.” Martha put her fingers to her lips as her email icon blinked, indicating a new message. “Maybe I can.”

      “If you open that email, don’t click on any links. That’s how your computer gets infected. He might be trying to load something even more insidious on your laptop.”

      “More insidious than a program to take over my camera to spy on me? That would be hard.”

      “Hold on.” He backtracked to the kitchen. “Do you have any masking tape in here?”

      “Post-its in the drawer to the right of the dishwasher.”

      He returned with two pink Post-it notes stuck to his fingertips. He slid a finger beneath the pad of her thumb, covering the eye of the camera with one Post-it and stuck the other on the edge of the first one to hold it in place.

      “Go for it.”

      She opened the email and licked her dry lips.

      “‘Do you want to...play?’” Cam read the message out loud, which took off its sinister edge and made it sound almost sexy.

      Of course, Cam could make anything sound, or look, sexy.

      Dragging in a breath, she put her fingers on the keys.

      “Wait.” He cinched her wrist with his fingers. “What are you going to write back?”

      “I’m going to write ‘Hell, yes.’ What do you think?”

      “Shouldn’t you ask him what he means? Ask him what he wants? That’s what he’d expect out of you. If you agree too quickly, he’s going to wonder if he picked the right person for the job.”

      His thumb pressed against her pulse. Could he feel it throbbing with excitement? She couldn’t tell if the buzz claiming her body was coming from the email or Cam’s warm touch. Did it matter? The two had mingled in her scattered brain.

      Rotating her wrist out of his grasp, she said, “You’re right. I’ll take it slowly.”

      She voiced the words as she replied to the email. “‘Play what? What do you want? Who are you?’”

      She clicked Send and held her breath.

      Her heart stuttered when the quick reply came through. She clicked on the email and read it aloud to Cam. “‘I’m a patriot.’”

      Cam snorted and she continued. “‘I’m a patriot. That’s all you need to know. You did the right thing. Leave it alone, or you might not like the game.’”

      She whipped her head around to face Cam. “He’s threatening me.”

      This time her hands trembled as she held them poised over the keyboard.

      Lacing his fingers through hers, Cam pulled her hand away from the computer. “Ask this patriot why he’s so nervous if the information he revealed in the emails about Major Denver is true.”

      “Shouldn’t I ask him about his threats? If he’s the one who pushed me at the Metro?” She untwined her fingers from his.

      “He’s not going to give you a direct answer or admit that he tried to harm you, but I’m interested to see his lies about why he wants you to stop digging.”

      “I haven’t even started digging.” She puffed at a strand of hair that had floated across her face, and Cam caught it and tucked it behind her ear.

      “He knows you saved the emails and shared them with me.” He flicked his finger at the Post-its. “And he knows you’re on to him.”

      “If you say so.” As long as he kept finding excuses to touch her, she’d do just about anything he asked. She cleared her throat and her mind, and then typed in Cam’s question.

      They both jumped when a message showed up in her inbox, but it was an ad for ink cartridges.

      “Come on, patriot.” She flexed her fingers over the keys. “I think we scared him off.”

      “Or he’s thinking up a good story.” Cam stretched his arms over his head before standing up. “I’m going to get more water. Do you want something from the kitchen?”

      “No, thanks.” She wedged the toes of her boots against the coffee table. “We lost him.”

      “Do you think my question was too direct?” He called back at her over the running water from the kitchen faucet. “We must’ve hit a nerve. He wants you to stop because he doesn’t want the truth revealed—that the claims in those emails were all bogus.”

      Instead of an answer, grinning skulls danced across her screen, giving her the chills. “Ugh. He really is just playing games.”

      Cam returned to the living room and hung over the back of the sofa. “Idiot. I don’t think he plans to tell you anything. He does want you to stop snooping though, and he’s trying to scare you off.”

      “All the more reason to continue.” She rolled her shoulders in an effort to release the tension bunching her muscles. “Maybe I should turn all this stuff over to the CIA.”

      “Martha, you committed a crime by making a copy of those emails. Even if you’re not prosecuted, you’ll lose your job.” He reached past her and closed the lid of her laptop on the skulls. “It’s not worth it. Do you want to wind up in federal prison?”

      “No!”

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