Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games #2)(43)

While I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end the way it does just before I pull the trigger on a kill, Tabby blinks at Ryan and looks him up and down.

“Who are you?”

“Ryan T. McLean, ma’am. At your service.” His gaze rakes over her. “And you are?”

Before I can snarl Off limits! Tabby says, “Tabitha West. But you can call me Tabby.”

Ryan grins. “I once saw a thoroughbred named Tabby win at Belmont Park. Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Obviously charmed, Tabby grins back at him. “What’s the ‘T’ stand for?”

“Tiberius.”

Her brows shoot up. “Like Captain Kirk or the Roman emperor?”

Impressed, Ryan blinks. “Like Captain Kirk. My parents are huge Trekkies.”

“Well,” Tabby says, looking him over, “it suits you. You have the look of a man who could captain a starship.”

“Why thank you, ma’am,” he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest so his big, tattooed biceps are on full display. “And may I say I really like that T-shirt. Does it, uh…have any special meanin’?”

Tabby’s T-shirt reads: “* Riot.” She glances down at herself. “It’s a Russian feminist punk rock protest group.”

Ryan thoughtfully strokes his goatee. “Oh. And here I thought it might be somethin’ straight outta one of my wet dreams.”

Heat sweeps up my neck and into my face. Tabby looks at me…and smiles.

I think if I look anywhere but right at her, I might accidentally murder someone.

Harry clears his throat. “Miss West, your friend S?ren is a little pissy about that antimalware program you ran that disabled his intrusion attacks. Having a bit of a meltdown. I’m worried what his next move might be.”

Tabby looks at the screen again. Her smile dies. “Well. Let’s give him what he wants then, shall we?” Then under her breath, “God forbid the son of a bitch is kept waiting.” She pulls the chair out from under the desk and sits down.

I blurt, “Don’t—”

Harry stops me short with a hand flat on my chest.

Looking into my eyes, he says quietly, “Rein it in, or I’ll throw you out. Decide now.”

Everyone’s looking at me, including Ryan, whose brows are arched in surprise. I take a deep breath, nod, and step back.

To Tabby, Harry says, “This isn’t your show, understood? I’m in charge here. I make the decisions about how to proceed. So before you put a finger on that keyboard, we’re gonna have a talk.”

Tabby slowly swivels around in the chair. She crosses her legs. She folds her hands in her lap, gazes up at Harry with a chastened look, and bats her long eyelashes. “Yes, sir,” she says demurely, and waits.

Harry scowls at her, but I sense it’s more to maintain the status quo than from actual irritation. In spite of any doubts and questions he still might have about her, I can tell he’s just as impressed by Tabby as everyone else is.

Except Rodriguez, who’s glaring at her with all the intimidation he can muster. Which isn’t much.

Harry says, “Tell me what you’re thinking. Are you just going to flat-out tell him who you are?”

“What fun would that be?”

“We’re not here to have fun.”

It’s Miranda, coming to stand near, her pacing abandoned. Though she’s still perfectly coiffed and there’s not a wrinkle on her expensive clothing, her face is pale and strained. It looks like her rest break didn’t take.

Tabby says, “You’re not. But he definitely is. And the only thing that can distract S?ren from his game is another game. So I’m going to give him one.” She looks at Harry, and her voice loses some of its edge. “With your permission.”

In silence, he assesses her face. After an uncomfortably long pause, he says, “Go on.”

Tabby nods. “Okay. So in addition to having a malware blocker, the program I’ve uploaded to the network backbone automatically responds to any new attempted breaches with a counterstrike—”

“It automatically returns fire against a threat, without human direction?” interrupts Rodriguez incredulously. “Like the NSA’s MonsterMind program, which isn’t even supposed to be in existence yet?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.”

Under the weight of her simple admission, the room falls into stunned silence. Harry shoots me a stony glance, and I know with chilling certainty what he’s thinking.

Tabby hacked the National Security Administration and stole their software.

If that’s true, she’ll spend the next few decades in prison.

All the blood drains from my face.

Tabby rolls her eyes and sighs. “You guys, relax. It’s my program, okay? I can prove I developed it. And I’d never go near the NSA servers, anyway—even I’m not that crazy.”

After a moment, Harry asks, “And what does this program of yours do in terms of counterstrike? Specifically.”

A smile works its way over Tabby’s face. “Well, without getting overly technical, once the program detects an attempted breach, it follows it back to the source and launches malicious code in the originating system.”

Harry looks dubious. “Which then does what?”