unattainable victims, and create intimate fantasies that could turn deadly in the blink of an eye. Intelligence was a factor, too. Many delusional stalkers were smart as hell, which made catching them more difficult.
Boone had never gone after a stalker before, but he’d had a lot of experience going after people who didn’t want to be found.
He sat down at her computer, took off the goggles, then booted up. He’d already found a bug at her desk, but now he was looking for software. Particularly key-logging software. If this guy was a security geek, he would have used his time inside the house to get more access. If he had key-logging technology, he’d be able to read her every keystroke, and see every message she wrote. The more personal the better.
He wouldn’t be obvious about it, either. It wouldn’t be under the software name. Boone would have to look for hidden files, for specific code. Luckily, he had his own program that did just that. He inserted the disk and let it run. It would take a while, and in the meantime, he could continue with his sweep.
He stood, and his gaze caught on a picture of Nate and Christie, barely illuminated by the light near the computer.
Nate had told him a lot about his sister, but not how beautiful she was. The picture, taken in better times, showed him how much this ordeal had taken out of her. She’d lost weight, which was understandable. But the bones were there. Big brown eyes, dark hair that swept her shoulders. Everything was right about her face, especially her smile. Warm, inviting. He wondered how long it had been since she’d laughed. Since she’d known any peace at all.
He remembered one night, several years ago, when he and Nate were stuck together doing some surveillance in a damp, cold building in the middle of a burned-out Serbian village. There was nothing going on, and nothing to do. They couldn’t sleep, so they talked. Nate got on to the subject of Christie. He never talked much about his family, so Boone had paid attention. It was clear Nate loved her, and felt protective of her, but it was equally evident that he was proud of his baby sister. How she’d gotten through college on a scholarship, how she’d become a designer to the stars. The way he described her, as funny and sarcastic, had stuck in Boone’s mind long after the conversation and the mission ended.
He’d thought a lot about her after that. He had no one close, except for the men in his unit, so she’d become a comfort to him when things got rough, much as she had for Nate. He’d imagine her at Christmas, when he was stuck in a jungle or a town where he didn’t know the language. It wasn’t anything sexual, just comforting. But now that he’d seen her, he’d never think of her as a little sister again.
She also reminded him of Nate. The way she lifted her right eyebrow in doubt. Rubbing her lower lip when she was nervous. They were both habits Nate had, ones Boone hadn’t consciously noted until seeing them echoed in Christie.
He picked up the photo, studying her, filling in the blanks. Once Seth had sent out the SOS, Boone had used his slippery network of inside sources—some from the military, some from domestic agencies—and found the records of the stalker immediately. He’d spent the next five hours digesting everything he could about the geek. Then he’d come here. He didn’t live far—a rented house in Pasadena. It hadn’t taken any time to gather his equipment. He always had it packed.
The only problem was the work he’d left behind. He might be living under the radar, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t busy. Since he’d come back from the Balkans, he’d found a lot of people who needed his services. Others, like himself, who worked in the shadows, came to him when they had security problems. Someone listening. Someone they needed to listen to. Although he’d been a radioman in Delta, he’d acquired a lot of gadgets and the know-how to get the jobs done.
Seth had stepped up to the plate once more. If anyone knew more about covert surveillance than Boone, it was Seth, and he’d agreed to take over Boone’s jobs until the stalking bastard had been taken out. It was a relief to know that despite the mess they were all in, the unit had never lost touch. They were a team, now and always.
Boone moved on. The hallway. The guest bedroom. The back porch. The collection of bugs grew. Most of them were listening devices, but some were also cameras. The freak understood about security grids, so that there were pitifully few places for Christie to hide.
He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the prick.
The first hints of daylight were changing the sky when Boone felt as if he could stop. He wasn’t finished. He wanted to do more sophisticated tests, but that could wait until he’d caught a few hours of sleep.
Besides, it looked like Milo, who’d been following him from room to room, carrying his mangled bone, wasn’t going to rest until he did.
Instead of going to the guest room, which was too far away from the doors, Boone would crash in the living room. He’d left the computer running, his software checking every line of code. By the time he woke up, he should know exactly what the geek had planted.
There was only one more thing he had to do before he could rest. In four different spots in the house, Boone put in four different cameras. His own. Not to spy on Christie, but to catch the geek. Maybe he wouldn’t need them, but Boone wasn’t a man to take chances. He also put a bug in the phone. If the stalker called again, Boone wanted a record.
After running a quick check to make sure everything was running properly, he went to the living room and decided the couch was too narrow, so he stretched out on the floor. Milo joined him, not touching, but close. Boone closed his eyes, and he was gone.
3
CHRISTIE HEADED TOWARD THE GUEST ROOM, tightening the belt of her robe and wondering just how much of last night was real, when she saw him on the floor.
He was on his back. No pillow, no blanket. Just flat out, his mouth slightly open, his right arm flung across his chest. Milo, who was curled up next to Boone’s hip, looked up at her questioningly, as if defending his choice of sleepmates.
Okay, so the Boone part hadn’t been a dream. Which meant the bugs and cameras weren’t, either.
She headed to the kitchen and got busy making coffee. She felt odd, and not just because of the stranger in her home. After the fourth scoop of Sumatra Mandheling, it dawned on her that she felt rested. Not week-in-a-spa rested, but it was the first morning in ages she could actually see clearly. More than that, the panic that had become her heartbeat was gone. No, not gone. Dampened. Definitely dampened.
In theory, Boone could be the bastard. Somehow, though, she didn’t think so. He would have tried something last night. She’d crashed in bed, he’d disabled the phone and she had no weapons. He already knew that if she were too scared, she passed out like a little girl. Instead, he’d gone to sleep on the floor of her living room. She didn’t understand that part at all. There was a perfectly nice guest bedroom just down the hall—so, what, he had a bad back?
What she needed was coffee and an explanation. She desperately wanted him to be just what he said he was. It embarrassed her to realize how badly she needed to be rescued. Her, the woman who’d built her life around the fact that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. That the knight in shining armor was nothing but a myth. And a destructive one at that.
She poured the water into the coffeemaker and pressed the On button. The gurgle was a welcome sound, as was the click of doggie nails on the bamboo floor. Turning to face a very guilty-looking Milo, she crossed her arms and gave him the glare. “Breakfast time and who loves Mom now, huh? Didn’t your new best friend bring kibble, too?”
“Nope.
