About That Night (FBI/US Attorney #3)(59)

Actually, he thought about her a lot when he was in the shower.

The images of her, wet and naked as the jets beat down around them, would probably be burned in his brain forever. Right next to the memory of her ever-so-fine ass as she practically sprinted out of his penthouse on Saturday morning.

By all accounts, it had been the perfect hookup. Amazing sex, no strings attached. He should have been satisfied. Relieved, in fact, since no-strings-attached sex was exactly what he was looking for at this point in his life. And now he could close the book on this unusual story that had begun between him and Rylann Pierce nine years ago.

Yet the story still felt…incomplete.

Kyle shook his head, seriously tempted to bang it against the steering wheel a few times, since he obviously needed to snap the f**k out of whatever haze he’d been living in these past couple days. A man who was a committed bachelor did not complain when a smart and sexy woman blew his mind with three rounds of incredible sex and then left without any expectations in the morning. Probably, that was something no man of sound mind and body should complain about. It went against the Man Code of Conduct—like failing to leave a buffer urinal when taking a leak next to another dude in a public restroom.

That settled, Kyle turned his focus to work and contemplated the significance of today’s journey. Specifically, that this would be the first time he’d returned to Champaign since the day his mother died. He hadn’t intentionally avoided the place; things had just worked out that way. For several months after her accident, he’d been overseeing matters for his father and simply hadn’t had the chance. Things had been so busy, in fact, that Dex had even packed up Kyle’s things and driven his car up to Chicago.

Eventually, the situation with his father had improved, but by that point Kyle had begun blazing a trail up the corporate ladder at Rhodes Corporation. Shortly thereafter, Dex had moved to Chicago to open his first bar in Wrigleyville, and the two of them, and the rest of their guy friends, fell into a lifestyle of working hard during the week and having a good time on the weekends—clubs, women, beach volleyball, and boat parties on the lake during the summer months, football in Lincoln Park and pickup basketball games at East Bank Club when the weather turned cooler.

Not a bad life. Far from it. Although perhaps a life that had begun to feel a bit superficial as Kyle had settled into his thirties.

And now here he was. Thirty-three years old with a prison record—but also with a chance to make a fresh start. Rhodes Network Consulting LLC was his opportunity to show everyone what he was capable of other than being the Twitter Terrorist. He’d had a great career at Rhodes Corporation, while it had lasted, and he had no regrets about working for his father. But now it was time to take the plunge and build something he could call his own.

And pray like hell that he didn’t fall flat on his face while doing it.

As part of his business strategy, Kyle had e-mailed Professor Roc Sharma, his former PhD advisor and the head of UIUC’s Department of Computer Sciences, and had asked if they could meet. Sharma had indicated that he was available today, but he hadn’t said much more.

After Kyle had dropped out of the PhD program following his mother’s car accident, Sharma had been understanding and sympathetic. They’d exchanged e-mails periodically over the years and had remained on friendly terms. They had not, however, had any communication since he’d been convicted in federal court on several counts of cyber-crime.

Safe to say that was a big no-no in the eyes of the Department of Computer Sciences.

Kyle had no idea what to expect when he walked into his former mentor’s office. He was encouraged, at least, by the fact that Sharma had taken the time to respond. Then again, the professor had always been known for his long-winded lectures—perhaps he simply couldn’t resist the opportunity to deliver one personally to the Twitter Terrorist.

Thus, with no small amount of uncertainty, Kyle turned off the highway and drove to the northeast side of campus. The Department of Computer Sciences was in Urbana, an impressive minicampus befitting its status as one of the top computer science programs in the country.

He parked at the main building on Goodwin Avenue and climbed out of the Mercedes. Before him stood an impressive, ultramodern 225,000-square-foot structure made of glass, copper, and steel. The computer science building had won awards from both the Illinois Engineering Council and the American Institute of Architects for its skillful use of natural light, open spaces, red iron interior, and internal terraces—all of which had been made possible by a $65 million grant from the man whose name had been etched proudly over the main entrance.

GREY RHODES CENTER

for computer science

Kyle walked through those doors, passing directly underneath the words. Inside, he knew exactly where he was going; he’d spent many an hour in this building during his six years of undergrad and graduate school. Sharma’s office was on the third floor, along with the rest of the faculty offices.

Because it was the last week before finals, the building was hopping. He walked up the main staircase, an open structure made of glass, steel, and brick. Students passed him in the opposite direction, and he wondered how long it would take before someone recognized him.

All of about ten seconds.

A student, about twenty years old and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read “I’m not anti-social, I’m just not user-friendly,” was the first to ID him. Spotting Kyle while heading down the stairs, he stopped dead in his tracks on the landing.