Code Conspiracy. Carol Ericson

food swung from her fingertips. “You’re too big for this kitchen.”

      He surveyed the small space. “A jockey would be too big for this kitchen. I thought you were going to move to a bigger place, a safer neighborhood. It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

      “I like this place. I feel secure here.”

      “I was able to break in.” He set her wine glass on the counter at her elbow.

      Nudging him with her hip she said, “You just told me my place was safer than most and it was your mad Delta Force skills that allowed you to break in here.”

      “I said safer than most, but you have the money to get into a much better neighborhood than this one with a doorman, twenty-four-hour security, the works. I don’t know why you don’t make the move.” She picked up her glass and he clinked his against hers.

      “You know I don’t like using that money. Blood money.” She took a quick sip of wine.

      “You must use the money for living expenses, anyway. I can’t imagine Dreadworm pays you the kind of salary to live in a Manhattan apartment without roommates. Didn’t you tell me once that most of the other hackers have day jobs?”

      “And didn’t you tell me you came to Manhattan to ask me a favor?” She ladled the pho into two bowls.

      As the savory steam rose, his eyes watered and he blinked, his nose already running from the spices. “Did I say it was a favor?”

      “If it weren’t a favor, Prescott, we wouldn’t be standing around drinking wine and eating pho together. You’re a man who likes to get to the point. You’ve been doing a lot of waffling.” She slid a bowl closer to him and the tofu bobbed in the liquid like square life preservers.

      He stirred the broth, chockful of health, with a spoon. “Figures you got tofu in here.”

      “Waffler.” She puckered her lips and slurped up a spoonful.

      This time, he allowed his gaze to linger on her mouth. If she wanted to see waffling, he could show her waffling by kissing her.

      She wiped her nose with a paper towel, covering the bottom half of her face. “What’s going on with you? What do you want me to do?”

      He dropped his spoon in the broth and took a deep breath. “It’s my commander, Major Rex Denver. He’s in trouble.”

      “What kind of trouble?”

      “He’s AWOL, but that’s not the worst of his problems.”

      “If going AWOL isn’t the worst, it must be bad.”

      “He went AWOL because someone’s trying to set him up.”

      Jerrica flinched and her eye twitched.

      He hadn’t even thought that Jerrica’s own experience might make her more apt to help him, but here they were. She’d probably accuse him of using her again.

      “I know.”

      His head jerked up. “You know about Major Denver?”

      “Syrian refugee camp? Weapons stash at an embassy outpost in Nigeria? Fake emails?”

      “Dreadworm really does know it all.” He hunched forward on his forearms, pushing the bowl of soup aside. “That’s why I’m asking for your help, Jerrica. You already know this info because you guys have access to all kinds of computer systems. We think there’s someone on the inside manipulating data, emails, people to set up Denver and discredit him.”

      “Discredit him? Why?”

      “Because he was onto something. Our Delta Force team was always operating one level beyond our special ops assignments. Denver was hot on the trail of some terrorist activity and someone was afraid he knew too much…or was on the verge of knowing too much.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “You understand more than anyone the government doesn’t always operate on the up-and-up.”

      She withdrew her hand from his and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

      Had he gone too far? He held his breath.

      Her cell phone buzzed on the counter where she’d plugged it in to charge.

      “Hold that thought.” She raised her index finger.

      Hold the thought? His appeal had gotten a better reception than he’d thought it would. He let out a noisy breath and picked up his pho again as she answered the phone.

      “What is it? Thought you were at a party.”

      He almost spit out the pho he’d just put in his mouth. Did she have a boyfriend now? Just because he hadn’t been able to move on after their breakup didn’t mean she hadn’t found someone to keep her warm at night.

      “Wait, wait. Slow down. Who’s following you? Did you get a look at him?”

      This time he almost choked on some noodles. Listening in on Jerrica’s phone conversations was proving hazardous to his health.

      “Where are you now? Is Kelly with you?” She snapped her fingers at him and pointed to a pen and an envelope on the counter.

      Maybe not a boyfriend. He shoved the pen and paper toward her and then went back to his soup, trying to concentrate on avoiding the slimy-looking veggies floating back and forth and to tune out Jerrica’s escalating tone of voice.

      “Stay right there. I’m serious. I’m coming.” She glanced up at Gray. “We’re coming.”

      He raised his eyebrows and tapped the handle of the spoon against his chest.

      Jerrica nodded and ended the call, stuffing the envelope into her back pocket. “You wanted inside information on Denver? Here’s your chance.”

      “What’s this all about? Who was on the phone?”

      “That was one of my coworkers at Dreadworm.” She downed the rest of her wine. “He thinks he’s being followed.”

      “What does that have to do with Denver?”

      “Amit was working on delving into some classified correspondence regarding that weapons stash at the embassy outpost in Nigeria.” She grabbed her backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Denver was on that, wasn’t he?”

      “He was, and now your coworker is being followed.” Gray cocked his head. “He’s not…like you, is he?”

      She wrinkled her nose. “What exactly does that mean?”

      “You know, slightly paranoid.”

      She punched his shoulder with a right jab that made him flinch. “Get your stuff. We’re meeting him in twenty minutes at a coffeehouse in the Village.”

      He grabbed his flannel and rubbed his shoulder. “Can we walk?”

      “Subway. I’ll make a New Yorker out of you yet.”

      As they raced down the building’s stairs, Gray poked her back. “Why are we running to meet Amit? If you need to talk to him in person, why doesn’t he come here?”

      “He’s scared. I could hear it in his voice. That’s the best time to get them talking.”

      “Dreadworm shares information with the world. Are you telling me that its employees don’t share with each other?”

      “Employees? We’re not really employees.”

      She hiked up her pack and strode down the sidewalk of her Lower East Side neighborhood where people still milled around after their dinners and ducked in and out of shops. Gray kept pace with her.

      Jerrica made a sharp right turn to head down the stairs to a subway station.

      He followed her down and grabbed her arm as she started to push through the turnstile. “I need a Metrocard.”

      “Oh,