Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
ELIJAH
W e make our way back down into her cave. Despite the food I’ve just eaten there’s an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my imagination is running riot with what-ifs .
Pen walks ahead, her shoulders back as she carries herself with new confidence in her poise. It’s not new. It’s only I wasn’t there to see it grow. Her jean-covered hips sway from side to side, and my eyes lock onto the movement, distracting me. Her jumper hugs her breasts and small waist. Gone are the sloppy oversized sweatshirts and long skirts of old, that hid her body. The new Pen carries an air of confidence. One I’m finding myself increasingly drawn to.
A heaviness enters my body at the realisation. I’ve enjoyed our talks. I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed her and them until now. Someone willing to call me out on my shit, someone who knows me…knew me. Suddenly, I want to uncover everything my onetime friend has done. Is she happy? Has she achieved everything she wants to? I know she wants a family, but the rest of her life? She was always a goal person. Would drive me nuts with her lists of long, medium, and short-term goals. Does she still have those? Have they changed?
My senses are telling me there’s more to Pen than she’s letting on, and I wonder if my brother and sister know. I want to press her and uncover all I can, but I know I lost the right years ago. The day she walked away from our business venture and accepted a scholarship from my parents, our relationship went into free-fall, one it never recovered from.
I blame myself. After my accident, Pen was there for me, supporting me, lifting my spirits. We became close. Then Darra announced she was pregnant, and my life seemed to spiral. I’d always been in control. My swimming had my future planned out. Suddenly, I was on a merry-go-round, and there was no getting off. I could have walked away from Darra, but that wasn’t how I was raised. Darra and our unborn child were my responsibility. I wasn’t going to tarnish the family name by walking away. I made my bed, and I had to lie in it.
The main problem was that Darra was jealous of everyone. My friends and my family. Once she had a ring on her finger, she changed. Gone was the easy going woman I dated. In her place was a new Darra, who flipped between tears and screaming. In order to keep the peace, I backed away from those who triggered her, not wanting to cause her or our unborn child additional stress.
And now, Pen and I are not the same people, even if she does still love toasted sandwiches and coding. She’s no longer the prickly woman I met at university, and I’m no longer the carefree bachelor I was. It’s almost like our roles and personalities have reversed. Pen now being the relaxed, easy-going one, while I’m the one with a rod stuck up my backside, sniping and barking at those around me, shutting people out and holding them at arm’s length. Learning about Darra’s betrayal isolated me further from everyone I cared about. Her ultimatum kept me trapped in a toxic situation with no escape. The strain of being with someone I despised broke something inside me.
I shake my head, glad Pen can’t see me.
I watch as she walks ahead.
I wonder what I’ve done to earn myself such a friend? Instead of chastising me for being a grumpy ass and telling me to go to hell, she dropped everything to come to my aid. Or has she? Is she doing this for me or my siblings and her love for them?
“Right, let’s see what we have,” Pen says, snapping me out of my melancholy as we re-enter her s he-cave. She drops into her chair, sliding it into place in front of her keyboard, her attention focused on the task at hand.
I grab a chair and draw up alongside her. Her proximity and scent do strange things to my chest.
She taps away, her fingers like lightning across the keyboard. When she said she keeps a hand in, she meant it.
I don’t want to interrupt her. I recognise the intensity of her expression. I know my time will come. I just need to trust the process.
Lines disappear. Whatever parameters she’s entering are removing changes from our search.
“Interesting,” she says, biting her lip, a habit of old when she used to chew on her lip ring. She scoops up her necklace and once again places it between her lips.
Her fingers move again at high speed. Her head tilts as she stares at the screen. Her finger comes up to tap her lip and move her chain, sliding it back and forth. My eyes locked on the movement.
She opens another set of files on another screen. The speed at which they open draws my attention. My eyes flash between the screens. Whatever she’s doing, I’m struggling to keep up. At uni, I would have made her slow down, ask her to explain. But she’s in the zone, and I have a deadline.
The thought takes me by surprise.
I trust Pen completely.
Trust her to identify what whoever broke into my system has done. Know if anyone can uncover it, it will be her.
We sit there for hours. Pen directing me, and me following. Surprised at how quickly my skills return.
“Like riding a bike,” Pen says, grinning when I let out a whoop, having achieved what I need to.
I make us both coffee, and keep her hydrated with water and isotonic drinks. I even raid her fridge and make her a cheese toastie.
I wait while she and Tiffany process and break down the changes in patterns.
“What the fuck !” Pen says suddenly. “You sneaky bastard.”
I jump at her outburst, stopping myself from throwing my coffee across the desk.
Her head is now moving between the screens as she double-checks her findings.
“Look,” she says, pointing to several rows of code over several screens. “We’ve got you, you bastard,” she mutters. She slips into the code itself and I scan alongside her, but find myself unable to keep up. She shifts backwards and forwards through the various changes.
“Clever,” she mutters.
My heart races. I’m dying to know what she’s found, but don’t want to disturb her. I berate myself for letting go of this particular skill set. A time existed when I might have kept pace with Pen or at least attempted it. Now—no chance.
I’ve had my head bitten off and spat out in the past for interrupting her when she’s on a roll, so I stay silent.
Eventually, she sits back, grabs the large bottle of water I have placed within reach, and unscrews the top. She closes her eyes as she takes a deep swallow, her throat bobbing as she drinks her fill.
My mouth dries as I watch the motion, picking up my bottle and drinking half in one go. Get a grip, Elijah!
“So?” I ask, feeling pretty redundant, when she finally puts her bottle down and turns to face me.
Her grin tells me she’s happy, and the heavy weight I’ve been carrying around in my chest for the past couple of days lifts a little.
“They’re good,” she says, sounding proud, which makes me frown. “But I’m better,” she adds.
“Pen,” I caution, nearing my limit.
She grins like a Cheshire Cat.
“Oh, don’t be a grouch. Let me enjoy this moment. It’s four AM, and I’ve been going solidly since dinner.”
Guilt hits me. She’s correct. But I’m being framed, and I need to uncover the culprit, their motives, and their method.
As if taking pity on me, Pen sits back in her chair, swirling to face me.
“They’ve embedded code to break through your firewall undetected.” When I frown, she adds, “Someone from the inside has set up a backdoor, but not one simply anyone can use.”
My heart hammers at her words.
“But it’s not just my firewall, is it?”
“No,” she tells me truthfully. “It’s not actually written into your code. It’s embedded. Which is good. It will be easier to remove.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Which clients are affected?”
“All of them,” she tells me gently. “But it looks as if each has its own unique ID written in. Someone can open pathways in or sell the ability to the highest bidder.”
I stare at her. She cracked the code in hours despite its complexity.
“A cyber attack?”
“Maybe,” she says, her intense gaze locking with mine. “Or they want to ruin you. If the threat becomes public knowledge. You’d be finished.”
It’s my turn to drop back in my chair. I run a hand down my face and stop to stare at her.
Pen continues. “They’re going to blackmail you, your clients, or sell the information to the highest bidder.”
“Fuck,” I say. “Imagine what that means. Companies could access their competitors’ systems potentially undetected, steal plans, mess with financials. What about these code changes?”
She pulls a file across from one of her other screens so it appears in front of her. She scrolls until she finds what she’s looking for.
“Shit!”
A furrow forms between her brows, her eyes dart to mine, her pupils wide.
She turns to a second bank of computers, pulling forward a second keyboard.
Her fingers dance over the keys, yet an icy chill washes over me as I realise Pen’s location. She’s on The Dark Web.
“Pen?”
“There is a lot you don’t know about me, Elijah. Just let me do my job.”
I open my mouth and shut it again. Job?
Her hands fly once more over the keys and I watch as she communicates with someone. My heart sinks further as I watch the back of the woman I’ve just had rummaging around in my company’s system converse with people on the dark web.
Pen picks up a phone I hadn’t spotted.
“It’s The Tailor ,” she says.
I can’t make out the words on the other end, but I freeze as Pen looks at me. Her gaze locking on mine.
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“I understand, but we don’t really have a choice…Yes, I’ll deal with the consequences… Fine, just check out what I’m about to send you.” I go to open my mouth, but she holds up a hand. “And do it fast.”
She swivels in her chair and puts down the phone before returning her attention to me.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“No one of importance to you,” she says, not quite meeting my gaze.
“Pen, don’t bullshit me. You notified a third party? We’re talking about my company?”
“Fine.” She inhales, and I wonder if she’s trying to figure out what she can get away with telling me.
Instead, she surprises me with, “My handler.”
Her tone, neutral.
“What do you mean, your handler? ” I say, my body temperature rising at her words.
I scan the room, hoping to find answers, half-expecting someone to emerge from the shadows and reveal it’s all a sick prank. A stitch-up.
“Long story and not one I’m prepared to go into right now. Maybe never,” she says, her voice suddenly sounding tired. “We need them. You need them. Some of these code changes are live, installed at your client sites. Next week’s release will add the finishing code and allow all the other changes to be activated.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She turns to me, her face a hardened mask. An expression I don’t recognise.
“Look at the date stamp, Elijah.” She points at the list of changes. “This latest code change unlocks the door.”