White-Hot Hack (Kate and Ian #2)(69)

It took two hours for the program to sift through the information, but in the end it returned nothing that would indicate the man had even a tenuous connection to any kind of cybercrime. He was either incredibly lucky or as skilled at hiding his identity as Ian.

Ian scanned the data a second time to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. Then he mentally braced himself, picked up the phone, and called Kate’s dad.

Steve didn’t take the news of the intruder well at all.



“You look tired,” Kate said when Ian walked into their bedroom.

He sat down on the bed and rubbed his eyes. “I am.”

“Heard anything more from Phillip?”

“The utility company in North Charleston is still trying to get their systems back online. Charlie’s taking a look at it right now. He’ll call me if he finds anything.”

“Do you think my dad believed you? About the supplies?”

“Yes.” Ian told Kate that when he talked to Steve, he’d also told him about the possible attack on the power grid and urged him to buy bottled water, batteries, and canned food. Kate’s dad was at the opposite end of the spectrum from those who practiced doomsday prepping—so was Ian, for that matter. But neither man could deny that the time had come to take the risk seriously. Indiana was on the same Eastern Interconnection grid as DC.

“Are you ready to get in the shower?” she asked.

“Yes.” Ian was still in the sweats and T-shirt he’d pulled on when he got out of bed, and Kate had never made it out of her robe.

He turned on the water, waiting until the shower stall filled with steam. Kate hung her robe on a hook and stepped under the spray. He followed her in, and when her hair was wet, he reached for the shampoo and washed it. He loved the way she closed her eyes as he massaged her head. He’d give anything not to have to send her away, but it was the right decision. If whoever had found them again didn’t make another move soon, Ian would have to find a way to draw them out and get to the heart of their demands. Because they wanted something. He had no doubt about that.

He rinsed out the shampoo, and the suds ran down her chest. His palm followed, skimming along her slick, wet skin. His hand drifted lower, and he stopped suddenly when it reached her stomach. It would probably be another month or two before the pregnancy would really start to show, but the previously flat expanse of skin now had an almost imperceptible rise to it that he could have sworn hadn’t been there yesterday, and it was only because he knew her body so well that he’d noticed it at all. “When did this happen?” he asked, resting his hand on her belly.

She placed her hand over his and looked up at him. “I don’t know. I feel like it almost popped out overnight.”

“Why haven’t I felt it?”

A smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Your hands have been quite occupied with my pregnancy breasts.”

“I had no idea.” Kneeling down in front of her, he ran his palms over the slight swell. “This is so wild.”

She rested her hands on his head. “I know.”

When he stood, she pulled his mouth down to hers. He had never felt more loving toward or more connected to Kate than he did at that moment, and the gentle kiss they shared spoke volumes. No one would take his wife and child from him. He would lay down his life for theirs without question.

When the kiss ended, he reached for her body wash, intending to continue on with their shower. But she pulled his mouth to hers again as if she needed to stockpile his kisses so there would be a well of affection to draw from in his absence.

Nearly all their mornings began with one of them touching the other, and by the time they made it into the shower, they’d usually already made love. He adored washing Kate, and he adored being washed by her. It was a habit they’d started back in Minneapolis, and while it was playful and sexy—and sometimes led to them quickly drying off and returning to bed for another round—it was mostly an affectionate routine they both enjoyed. This morning, after tossing and turning most of the night, he’d slipped from bed before she awakened because he had too much on his mind to lie there one minute longer.

Kate showed no sign of wanting to stop, and when she rubbed her breasts against his chest, slick with leftover suds from the shampoo, he was a goner. She was right; he had been paying extra attention to them. How could he not?

He cupped them in his hands, feeling the softness of their weight and the changes in their size and shape. Further evidence of the transformation her body was undergoing. The thought made him sad. Her safety depended on their separation, but how many of these subtle changes would he miss while she was gone?

Though they didn’t have much time, he backed her up until she was pressed firmly against the back wall of the shower. He didn’t know how long they would be apart, and he suddenly felt a need to stockpile a few things of his own. She lifted her leg and he hitched it higher on his waist, and in one fluid motion he entered her. The water rained down on them as they found their rhythm, and she held him tight, kissing him as he moved inside her. Her movements grew frantic, and there was something so primal about her need, so sustaining. There were times she expressed her desire toward him in this way and it made him feel like a king to be wanted so desperately. Wildly, she clutched at him, pulling him deeper into her until she cried out. Her body gradually relaxed, and he found his own release, as tender as hers had been wild.