“Yeah, well, while you were getting your beauty sleep, Inspector Gadget, someone had to check every nook and cranny of those eighteen acres for stragglers and for sparks.”
“Crazy night.”
Adam leaned back in the chair and studied Ben over the rim of his coffee cup.
“I heard your program worked like a champ.” He saluted Ben with his coffee. “Props on shutting down a ring of cyberterrorists. Who knew you could be such a badass with a simple computer? Now you know what it’s like to take down the bad guys.”
As much as he wanted to, Ben couldn’t tell his buddy this wasn’t the first group of terrorists he’d put out of commission. That the conferences he frequently attended doubled as covert ops. To do his job effectively, he needed to keep his alter ego under wraps. The isolation wore on him sometimes, but the payoff was worth the price.
This morning, he could finally take credit for something. And he couldn’t help the burst of pride he felt at VOYEUR’s success. The program had worked just as he’d envisioned. Even better, according to his CIA contacts, the suspect was already taking a deal and naming names.
But Ben didn’t like the contemplative look on his friend’s face. Clearly, the sniper had more on his mind.
“Listen, Adam, thanks for the coffee, but I’ve got to back up the VOYEUR program before the NSA director hacks it right off my hard drive. Bro-time is going to have to wait until later.”
His friend ignored him. “Christine said the most interesting thing to me earlier.”
Ben shuffled some papers on his desk trying to appear circumspect. “She says a lot of things.”
“Yeah, but this one seemed very out of character. According to her, at the time of the blackout, you were locking eyes with some guest in the Cross Hall, almost as if you’d seen a ghost.”
Ben swore beneath his breath. “Christine talks too much.”
Adam’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “I take that as a confirmation. It’s not like you to lose your cool on the job. Who is she, dude?”
“What is this, the ladies’ room? I told you, I don’t have time to shoot the shit with you this morning. I’ve got important data to sift through.”
“Uh-huh.” Adam nodded at the bank of computer screens lining one of the walls of the office, all of which were displaying multiple video images of a certain fiery-haired woman in a skintight emerald-green gown. “Don’t tell me Cinderella left the ball before you could get her name and number?”
Ben shook his head. He didn’t need Cinderella’s name. He already had it. Not to mention her date of birth, her mother’s maiden name, and her current address. He’d been tracking the woman for years. Thirteen to be precise. Ever since the night she’d made a fool of him in high school.
“Wait.” Adam slammed his boots back to the floor and leaned toward one of the monitors. “She looks very familiar in that picture.”
“No. She doesn’t. She was the date of Griffin’s person of interest. Nothing more. And I’ve got work to do, so beat it.” Ben wanted Adam gone before he figured things out.
“No. I swear I’ve seen her before,” Adam argued. “Whoa! That’s the babe on your screen saver. Well I’ll be damned. She is a real person and not some fantasy woman you’re building in a lab somewhere.”
Too late. Ben flipped him off.
Adam laughed. “Methinks you do protest too much.”
Ben jumped from his chair and began to circle the room.
“Who is she Bennett?”
Adam’s quietly asked question made Ben halt his frantic pacing. Heaving a sigh, he rested a hip on the corner of his desk. His eyes landed on one of the still videos depicting Quinn smiling in wonderment at Alexi Ronoff as they entered the White House. Memories of her gifting him with that same tender smile made his chest constrict.
Had she ever really meant it? Or had he been played in the worst way possible?
Despite being a whiz at unearthing information others couldn’t find, everything he’d been able to track down about her was superficial. While every other woman on the planet was flaunting her life on social media, Quinn’s electronic footprint consisted of a simple business page for her photography business. No school records. No traffic tickets, hell, he couldn’t even find a freaking dental record for her. It was as if she was an apparition.
Except she’d been very real last night. The moment his fingers brushed against her skin he’d felt shock waves reverberate through his body. Her quick gasp at the contact told him she felt it too. Still.
He forced the emotion from his throat. “Her name is Quinn Darby. She’s a photographer to the rich and famous. Judging by who she attended last night’s dinner with, she doesn’t care how clean the money they pay her with is.”
“Let me rephrase. Who is she to you?”
A harsh laugh escaped Ben’s throat before he could pull it back. “She used to be everything to me.” It was the first time he’d ever admitted that out loud. He shook his head. “But I was young and stupid then. I know better now.”
“Talk to me, Bennett.”
He made his way to the sofa on the other side of the room and slid down into the soft leather. “It’s your typical story. Exotic girl moves into a small town. Geeky high-schooler makes a fool out of himself over her. She leads him on before eventually ghosting him the night of the prom. He ends up as the laughingstock of everyone in town.”
“You’re too smart to let that happen.”
Leaning his head against the back of the sofa, Ben closed his eyes. “Just because I have a superior intellect doesn’t mean I can’t be a fool.”
And he had been. From the moment Quinn Darby arrived in Watertown, with her long tan legs, her lush cinnamon lashes, and her sultry British accent, he had been captivated by her. Of course, so had every other male in town between the ages of five and ninety-five.
“We were lab partners in chemistry.” He laughed at the irony. “Apparently, I was the only one who thought the chemistry was real.”
“Did you ever find out why she stood you up for the prom?”
“Isn’t it obvious? She wanted to humiliate me.”
And humiliate him she did. By mutual agreement, he and Quinn kept their budding relationship quiet. Ben did so because he didn’t want to tempt fate or whatever gods had prompted her to look at him twice. He thought she’d felt the same. That what they shared was unique and fragile and too special to broadcast to anyone else. Then, when she’d agreed to attend the prom with him, his ego took hold and he went caveman, bragging to anyone who’d listen. Right up to the night she’d blindsided him.
For years, he grappled with the particular puzzle of why. Mostly because every time he ventured back home to Watertown some asshole brought it up. Nothing ever blew over in a small town. He wished they’d all forget. He wished he could forget. But, try as he might, he couldn’t erase the memory of that fateful night.
When no one answered the door the evening of the prom, he’d called the sheriff’s office. His grandfather, a deputy with thirty years on the force, arrived in his cruiser five minutes later. He could still see the pity in the old man’s eyes. No one really believed the wealthy beauty would consent to attending the prom with a nerd like Ben.