What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(31)

As if hearing the edge in her voice, Griff turned his head to send her a faint smile.

“Yes. Which is why the program that I lease to law enforcement has a few tweaks.”

She studied him with a lift of her brows. “What sort of tweaks?”

“If you want to cast a large net, then it only works for a limited amount of time before the information is automatically dumped,” he explained. “Or you can do a targeted search for a lengthier amount of time.”

She gave a small nod. “Absolute power.”

“Corrupts absolutely,” he finished.

They shared a long glance, and Carmen felt that odd tug of fascination toward her companion. Not the awareness of a woman for a handsome, successful man. That was easy to explain. This was a sensation of catching a peep of that brilliant mind of his and wanting to climb into his lap and just talk for hours. Days. Years.

That was . . . weird.

And more than a little unnerving.

“So why didn’t your program get triggered?” she forced herself to ask.

He leaned toward the computer screen, his brow furrowed.

“I’m going to find out.” His fingers again flew over the keys and suddenly the image of an invoice from the flower shop filled the screen. “Here it is,” he murmured, quickly scanning the order. He grunted as he pointed toward the top of the invoice. “That’s the reason.”

From Carmen’s angle, it was impossible to read the tiny print.

“What happened?”

“They put your name in wrong,” he said. “It’s listed as Carrie Jacobs, not Carmen.”

Carrie?

Carmen surged off the bed, goose bumps spreading over her skin like frost across a window.

“What did you say?”

He lifted his head, his body going still as he caught sight of her expression.

“It was typed in as Carrie.” He set aside the laptop and rose to his feet. “What is it?”

Someone walking across her grave.

She shook her head, desperately trying to dislodge the thought.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice an octave too high. “I’m sure it was just a mistake.”

“You don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost just because of a mistake,” he said.

She sucked in a deep breath before slowly releasing it.

It didn’t help. Her stomach remained tied in a painful knot and her mouth dry.

“When I was young, I was called Carrie,” she admitted.

Griff stepped toward her, his tension filling the air with a tangible sizzle.

“By who?”

She shrugged. “Everyone. It wasn’t until I went to live with my grandparents that they insisted I go by Carmen.”





Chapter Nine


December 23, Baltimore, MD





Joy sensed she was being watched.

It’d started two days ago. She’d taken on extra hours at the small community college where she worked as a janitor. During the Christmas break there was always a frenzy of activity to polish floors, paint walls, and tidy up the campus before the students returned. It wasn’t a dream job, but it paid the rent on her cramped trailer, and more importantly, it gave her a steep discount on the night classes she was taking.

She wasn’t going to be a janitor forever.

Nope. She intended to be a medical lab technician.

Her future was upwardly mobile and far away from the sort of crappy life her mother was trapped in.

Which was what made the sensation that there was some pervert out there keeping tabs on her all the more annoying. She didn’t have the time or interest to deal with the creep.

With a shiver as the morning air sliced through the fabric of her secondhand coat, Joy turned in a slow circle. Her eyes took in the narrow road that had been plowed during the night, piling the snow into a ridge along the sidewalk. The white clapboard buildings next to her were silent, the residents either at work, or students who’d gone home for the holidays.

Overhead the sky was a sullen gray that bled into the misty fog that surrounded her. The sort of morning a person wished they lived on a tropical beach.

Someday . . .

There was no one in sight, but Joy had the heightened senses of a girl who’d spent her entire life surrounded by rough, aggressive men who were eager to take advantage of any weakness.

“I know you’re there,” she called out, her hand slipping into her coat pocket. She never left home without her handy-dandy can of pepper spray. “Hello,” she called again. “Step out where I can see you or I’m calling the cops.”

There was the crunch of footsteps on snow, then a dark form appeared from a nearby alley.

Joy frowned. The stranger looked to be in his mid or early twenties with a heavy jaw and sleepy eyes. He was short and stocky beneath his parka, with dark hair that was cut short and stuck up with cowlicks at the back. He had small, dark eyes and skin that was oddly yellow, as if he was jaundiced.

Weird.

He held up a gloved hand, and a nervous smile twitched around his lips.

“Wait,” he said, moving slowly forward.

Joy took a step backward. No need to panic. It was broad daylight on a public street. Right?

“Who are you?” she demanded.

His lips were still twitching with a nervous smile as he approached.