believe that they were dating—not a former lawbreaker and an FBI agent. But maybe Ash didn’t intend to tell anyone that he was an agent. Her boss knew but national security relied on his ability to keep secrets.
Martin’s bleached blond brows arched in surprise. As her assistant, he knew how many hours they worked and how little time she had for a relationship. “Really?”
“We met through a dating service,” Ash replied with a pointed stare at her—probably so that she would back his story.
“Really?” Martin asked again, and he turned toward Claire now.
Technically Ash hadn’t lied, but she wondered why he hadn’t told more of the truth. Like what he really did for a living. Could he suspect Martin of being involved in offering that information for sale? He suspected her, though, and had revealed that he was an FBI agent. But maybe he’d only done that because she’d nearly been abducted.
Aware of the danger, she followed his lead and replied, “Yes, really. Ash and I met at a speed dating event.” Like Ash, she left out the part that it had been just that evening.
“How come you didn’t mention anything to me about meeting someone?” Martin asked, sounding hurt, which surprised her.
He was her assistant but not her confidant. She didn’t share everything with him. She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “I wanted to see how it worked out before I said anything.”
She was damn sure a relationship would never work out between her and the FBI agent. He thought she was a criminal, and she thought he was too uptight and judgmental.
“So you’re okay?” Martin asked. At first she wasn’t sure what he was talking about—her and Ash—or the break-in. But then he added, “Nothing was taken?”
She tightly clasped the snow globe and shook her head. “Nothing.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Do you want me to help you clean up?”
“No, but thanks for asking, Martin.” She was surprised that he had, though, because she rarely let him touch anything in her space even though he was her assistant.
She hated that someone else had been in her office, touching her things, moving and throwing them around the small area. She didn’t need everything to be neat; she just needed it to be where she’d left it so she would know where to find it again. At least they hadn’t broken the globe or, as far as she could tell, anything else.
“It’s so late,” she told Martin, “that you should just go home.” Like she just wanted to go home...
Martin glanced to Ash again. Either he was concerned about leaving her alone with this strange man or he was seeking permission from Ash to leave.
He was her assistant, though. He was supposed to defer to her. Usually he did—when he wasn’t preoccupied with whatever games he was playing when he should be working instead.
Ash assured him, “I’ll take care of her.”
Was he offering that assurance as an FBI agent? Or as the boyfriend he was pretending to be?
Easily accepting Ash’s claim, Martin nodded and headed for the door. He was probably eager to go back to bed. Or maybe to the party...
Ash waited until her assistant was out of earshot before he asked her, “There really is nothing missing? Not even a flash drive?”
She glanced at the contents of her open desk drawer before closing it again. It had been a long night. She should have been tired, too. “Maybe a flash drive...”
He tensed, his spine straightening so that he stood even taller, making him even more imposing since the muscles in his arms stretched the sleeves of his sweater. His jaw was rigid with tension. He was an FBI agent on full alert.
She laughed at his overreaction and couldn’t resist teasing him. “It’s okay. I have those photos on my hard drive at home. I don’t think the thieves are going to find them nearly as special as I do, though.”
He didn’t laugh; he didn’t even smile. His handsome face still tense, he asked, “Personal photos?”
A pang of panic struck her heart as a terrifying thought occurred to her. “You don’t think they’ll use those photos to go after my family?”
After all, those men had been so determined to abduct her that they had given up their own lives. In order to get to her, they might use someone close to her to influence her. Could what she did for a living actually put her father and his bride at risk?
Ash didn’t offer Claire false reassurance because it was possible that someone might use her family as leverage to get her to reveal her secrets. And if he continued being honest with her, she might begin to trust him enough to tell him everything she knew. Because even though he now believed she hadn’t offered that security information for sale, she probably knew who might have.
Could her assistant have had something to do with it? He hadn’t looked bright or mature enough to come up with such a plan, though. But then Claire had only been sixteen when she’d hacked into that bank system.
“Tell me about your assistant,” he said even though he already had checked out everyone who worked for Nowak Computer Consulting. That was how Claire Molenski had become his main suspect.
She glanced up from straightening her desk and laughed. “You can’t seriously suspect Martin of anything?”
“He’s your assistant,” he said. “So he must work closely with you, checking security on the same high target sites that you do.”
She gestured around her small office. There was only one desk and only one chair. “I work alone.”
Nowak Computer Consulting was the only company who’d had access to all the sites that had been offered up for sale at the online auction. So Ash had thoroughly studied it. As well as talking to Peter Nowak, he had scrutinized the building floor plans and scoured security footage. He knew the layout probably better than Claire did. Just a few steps from her office was the bull pen of cubicles where the assistants worked.
“But he’s your assistant, so doesn’t he assist you with the projects you’re working on?” he asked. Company protocol claimed otherwise, but Ash knew people whose assistants did more of the work than they did.
“No,” she corrected him. “As my assistant, Martin brings me coffee and lunch and dinner, if I’m working late.” She sighed. “Which I usually am.”
Maybe Ash had made too many assumptions about Claire Molenski—although he hadn’t been wrong about how much time she spent at the consulting company. He’d thought it was because she legally had to, but maybe it was also because she wanted to. “He doesn’t help you with any of your projects?”
“He helps with whatever tasks I give him to handle,” she said. “But he doesn’t have the clearance to work most of the projects I work.”
Because she had the highest clearance at the company. Peter
