The criminal is the creative artist; the detective only the critic. – G.K. Chesterton

Anonymity crowned him as if t'were the halo of romantic glory. – Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

The doorbell shattered the image of Briel's memories. Why could she never anticipate when that blasted thing would go off, even when she expected someone? Perhaps she could install some sort of weight sensitive door mat that would hum at her when someone approached the door. The thought brought a grin to her lips. She did love her new apartment, even without the doormat. Shaking herself, Briel jumped to her feet to let her guest in.

Checking her appearance in the mirror one last time, Briel turned to greet Nessa. Why Briel cared, she did not know; she had no reason to feel self-conscious. After their dinner at Chez Nous, Briel had eaten three meals with Nessa in two days, and somehow, Nessa had successfully intruded herself into Briel's life under the auspices of friendship. Briel had no idea how she had allowed herself to become so attached to the girl. Too late now, Briel sighed.

“Hey, Nessa,” she greeted her recently new best friend. Unfortunately, the day had arrived, and Briel now found herself responsible for entertaining “Drew's friend.” The blind date had only increased Briel's dependency on Nessa, insecure as the endeavor made her. Since she never really refused a challenge, Briel had said yes to the ridiculous date, but now she had begun to regret her impetuous decision.

“Hi, Briel. Don't look so nervous. I mean, you kinda know the guy.”

Contrarily, Briel's anxiety increased with the thought that she knew the “stranger.” “Who is he?” she begged.

Now sheepish, Nessa ducked her head, refusing to meet Briel's gaze.

“We ran into him on the last mission.”

Briel could only think of one man she had met last mission, and as far as she knew, he was in jail.

“What in the world does that mean?”

“You know, you sent him to his probable death in Banff…Jase.”

Briel's vision suddenly obscured as a red haze rose before her eyes. Could she throat-punch a friend and still be friends? Briel had spent the past ten minutes reliving how much he had shaken up her life last time she had seen him.

“Absolutely not. I am not going out with him.”

“What?” Nessa seemed genuinely incredulous. “He's a really nice guy, Briel. How can you dislike a guy who would risk so much to save someone.”

“You really have to define ‘nice.’ Jase is charming, generous when it suits him, resourceful – ”

“Handsome,” Nessa interrupted.

“Irrelevant. I’ve known Jase a long time, personally and by reputation. Not a fan.”

“You almost sound as if you think he were a criminal.”

Briel paused. Perhaps she did give that impression, but she honestly didn't know for sure where he stood. She couldn't think of how to describe what she thought of Jase. “Not a criminal. Maybe less than ethical. If you remember correctly, on the last mission he kidnapped an innocent woman and held her hostage.”

“Hostage? That’s an exaggeration. He did it to keep her alive.”

“And to try to convince her to leave her husband.”

“Her husband, who turned out to actually be a criminal…Jase was working under some misapprehensions, and he made some bad choices. We've all made bad decisions; moral lines aren't always clear in this job.”

“He knew what he was doing.”

Still, Briel didn’t actually judge most of what Jase had done – not morally. Professionally? It was a shambles. Sometimes making the right professional choice was ethically grey. Briel had been willing to leave Felicity Miller to her fate with ProtoComm if she had needed to get her intel. Jase had sacrificed his mission to save a woman he was infatuated with. Though as an inadvertent result, he had helped Briel get her intel.

“Even if that's true, that doesn't explain Venice.” Briel persisted, looking for some censure against Jase that would stick. Not that Nessa would understand the reference.

“What happened in Venice?”

Such a convoluted story! Briel almost regretted bringing it up. Still, she couldn't escape a memory that had haunted her for more than three years, one in which she had nearly gotten herself killed.

She could vividly see the amused eyes of Signor Rotolo, a high ranking mafioso, as he closed the door to the wine cellar of his home in Venice. Looking into that man’s eyes, the cold chill that had run through Briel had stemmed from more than the air in the inky cellar. The man had planned to leave Briel there until she starved – or killed herself by drinking the wine. He could have put a bullet through her brain and shown some mercy, but he wanted her to suffer. Though Briel had gone days without food before, the darkness, the total powerlessness, and the promise of endless time had wreaked havoc on her thoughts. She had suffered down there for three days with the memory of the pleasure on the man's face as he had locked her inside.

After those three interminable days, the crackling of the door's opening almost sent her into legitimate shock. She had finally popped open a bottle of the wine, compelled by intense thirst, but she was terrified of getting drunk. No food in her system, extreme thirst. She tortured herself taking miniscule sips to slake the thirst as much as she could without getting sloshed. By the time the mischievous gleam of Jase's eyes shone in the doorway, Briel was a mess, half-sodden and malnourished, weak and barely mobile. Her adrenaline and thoughts of self-preservation kicked in, and she tried to rush Jase – half mad. Before she could reach him, though, he had gripped her hand and hurled her out of the room, pulling her up just short of the opposite wall. She tried to shove him away, but he dragged her behind him with strength her deprived body didn’t have, and until he had literally carried her up the two flights of steps to the ground floor, she had been terrified of what he would do to her. She had watched him, seen him smiling and amused as Signor Rotolo instructed his henchman to rough her up, unmoving and unmoved while the man backhanded her across the face several times, smashed his huge fist into her stomach, and kicked her once she collapsed to the ground. So, yeah, Briel had felt betrayed by her old classmate.

Once he carried her up the stairs, though, her mind went blurry. She remembered that he shoved her into a car – the driver’s seat, though she was hardly in a state to drive. Then he had turned and walked away.

“Why are you here?” she had slurred toward his back.

“Money,” he shrugged, throwing her the most casual glance she could have imagined.

Money. That was when Briel lost all remaining idealism regarding her profession. If Jase Hamilton could turn mercenary, then Briel could turn cynic, and she had. Within two months of that mission, she had left the FBI.

To be fair, he had no doubt given up a bunch of money to save Felicity Miller, though he had intended to gain selfishly from that venture as well. Just how selfish was he? Briel had no clear answer. For one night, though, Briel could manage.

“Fine,” Briel responded grudgingly to Nessa. “I'll go out with him this once – to help you, not for Jase. Why is he even here – with Drew?”

“Honestly, I think Drew has been trying to recruit him to the Team ever since we moved from Atlanta. He's supposedly very good.”

He's good, alright, Briel agreed, irritated.

As they spoke, the doorbell rang again, and Briel's chance to run dematerialized. She opened the door with reluctance.

“Um...hi,” she stuttered, avoiding the faces at the door. She wondered if Jase knew beforehand with whom Drew had set up the “blind date.” Even if he hadn't, he did now, and one look at his expression convinced her that Jase shared her ambivalence toward the evening's companionship. Actually, not ambivalence as much as anxiety. Strange. Had the crash and burn with Felicity Miller finally created a crack in Jase’s imperturbable self-possession?

“Hey, Nessa.” Drew swept past Briel into the apartment without greeting his host.

“Come on in,” Briel mumbled sarcastically to the retreating form. She thought she caught a smirk on Jase's face where he stood in the doorway.

“Hi, Briel,” he levelled.

“Jase,” came her curt reply. Though she had hoped to put him off by her cold shoulder, Jase’s eyes flashed with some latent amusement Power games much? Fine. “So, what have you been doing in the last twenty-five days?”

Now, there was the flash of irritation that acknowledged the powershift. Not laughing now, ass. “Not much,” he mumbled. “Just pondering my bad luck in relationships.”

Briel laughed out loud; she couldn't help herself. Had she just brought out a sulking tendency in Jase Hamilton? She never would have believed it. Unfortunately, the revelation of vulnerability suppressed her more vicious spirits, and she relented from goading him much further on Felicity. Instead, she goaded him on less sensitive topics.

“So, Nessa says you're thinking about joining us. Not gonna get rich in my line of work.”

“There’s more to life than money,” he shrugged.

Shut up! If Jase had proven one thing about himself over the past five years, he had shown his self-serving greed. Sure, he cloaked it in technical impeccability, but he managed greed nonetheless. He played at the good guy, but he left open enough doubt that even his coworkers in the industry never knew what compromises he was willing to make. As far as Briel was concerned, he was as likely a double agent as one of the good guys.

That didn’t really explain Felicity Miller, though. Certainly, Jase had no tendency to play the hero – unless he was getting paid for it. In Banff, Briel had seen no obvious sign that he had sought Felicity as part of a paid gig. He had, in fact, showed significant evidence of sincerity with the woman – not the least of which was the bullet wound he had taken to protect his supposed paramour. Not really Jase’s style.

So, there was a slight chance that Felicity Miller had affected Jase in a completely novel way. For the Miller mission, Briel couldn’t exactly judge – during that mission, Briel had seriously contemplated the longevity of her career. Not because, as she knew must eventually happen, she aged out of the life, but because she wondered if it really satisfied her. She had escaped the temptation to explore new career options, but just barely.

With that thought, she decided to relax her suspicions for the evening. Perhaps the night could prove not too repulsive. Certainly no worse than Liam, she reasoned. “I would agree, and for your sake, I hope this work suits you better if that’s what you really want.”

“Thanks,” Jase shrugged, accepting the entrée she offered into her home by stepping out of his way. She guessed they knew each other too well to offer true formalities, but as usual, Jase managed to play exactly along the lines of propriety. Of course, it was his technical perfection that had impressed her all those years ago in training. Which makes it even less likely that Italy was a fluke...

Nessa, unfortunately, could not share Briel’s suspicions about Jase, because Nessa had no history with the man. The friend, therefore, spent the rest of the night engaged in deep discussion with Jase where Briel could not. Briel threw in comments when necessary, but did not invest. Drew, no doubt as jealous of Jase as men usually were, didn’t even manage contribution – just watched with humorless irritation. Though she did not know him well, Briel sensed that Drew had suddenly formed an aversion to Jase. She wondered if, after tonight, Drew would decide that the job opening had closed.

When Jase turned the conversation to Briel, she glared at him. What was he at?

“I now realize that you two ran in the same circles before I entered the picture,” Nessa commented, “but I had no idea until tonight.”

“You did know I was dating someone, though,” Briel accused.

Rather than offer contrition, Nessa pursed her lips in defiance. “’Dating’ is a loose term.”

“We went on dates, only with each other – that’s dating.”

“And now you are not dating,” Nessa retorted, “so it is all fine.”

When Briel registered the amusement that had returned to Jase’s face, she rolled her eyes. Not that she could blame him – Nessa was digging in deep.

“And I don’t plan on dating again for a while, so I think I will take over my own social calendar for the time being.”

“I ran into a lot of interesting people at the gym this morning – surely one of them interests you.”

“I'm sorry, Jase…” Nessa saved Briel from needing to answer. “You don't know the Team the way Briel and I do. She just can't date anyone we work with.”

“Why? Dating never affected her ability to do her job. Plus, if she dated someone outside of the Team, she would constantly have to choose between her relationship and her work.”

“True. I wasn't speaking specifically about Team members dating as a matter of policy.”

Briel thought she saw a slight flush of color across Nessa's cheeks. Was that a response to Drew, who hovered awkwardly at the edge of the conversation, or to Jase? I will definitely have to warn her later.

“What I meant was that I know everyone on the Team, and none is Briel's type.”

Turning to Briel, Jase questioned her presumptuously. “What exactly was wrong with Liam?”

A lot of the same things that are wrong with you, she leveled silently. But she chose to mention something Jase could not censure. “Not that it's any of your business, but Liam lacked in the equality department.

“What, he's a chauvinist? I'm surprised you would last six dates with him, much less six months.”

“No, no,” Briel corrected, laughing. Yes, Jase knew her well enough to know that she would not countenance such a thing. “Nothing like that. He lacked the capacity to share any sense of relational responsibility. I got to serve his needs – he got to pretend like mine didn't exist.”

“So, Nessa,” he turned back to his cohort in crime. “We have to find someone who serves Briel's needs. If I remember correctly, that means classical literature? The French school of art?”

French school of art? Bastard. Of course, he would remind her how well he knew her. What, was he going to spread all of her secrets to the team? If he tried, Briel would make sure he didn’t last long in the job. Fortunately, Nessa didn’t seem to notice the silent exchange. “Sure, Jase. That's it. Though I would like to be able to talk about something more interesting than a player's batting average.”

“I love to talk about literature,” Nessa interjected ingenuously. “And music. Not so much art. I don't know enough.”

Something about Nessa’s attention seemed to tug Jase away from Briel, and she couldn’t complain. Maybe it was the superficial similarity between Nessa and Felicity – tall, brunette, slender. That was where the similarity ended, except maybe the kindness. Nessa’s clear Latin ancestry was only the most obvious of differences – there was also the fiery temper that sizzled under the surface of Nessa’s complacency. The thought actually brought a smile to Briel’s lips as she watched the line of interest strung tautly between her friend and her old cohort. If Jase went too far down that road, Nessa just might set him straight for Briel.

“Art is just like music,” Jase was explaining. “Once you understand the context and the medium, you can comprehend the personal value of each piece.”

From that point forward, any time Nessa or Jase thought to include Briel in the discussion, she artfully led them back to each other, and though Jase glanced askance at her several times, he did not seem inclined to press the subject.

Finally, though, the couple tarried into a subject that interested Briel enough to overcome her reluctance to talk – computer security. It was one of Jase’s specialties, and though he shunned talking about himself, Nessa latched onto the topic when she realized his level of knowledge.

Briel shouldn’t take advantage of the opportunity, she knew, but she had no real resources whom she could consult to ask about what had happened with her computer. Maybe offering Jase ammunition would prove a mistake, but Briel could always adapt – adaptation was her specialty. “Can I ask you a question, Jase?” she interrupted. “Regarding your recent work in Banff?”

He shot her a skeptical look, but he couldn’t exactly suppress the topic with an audience. “Better than discussing your recent work in Banff,” he jabbed. “What is it?”

“I just…” Briel stammered, surprised at the expression of emotion from Mr. Cool. Jase had seemed pretty complacent about how things ended in Banff, what with Felicity turned to putty in his hands, but he seemed to retain at least some irritation at Briel. Still, she forced herself not to respond. “I know you installed cameras; did you actually have to go inter the Miller house to do it? Could you have found a way to see into her house using, say, her own computer?”

“Maybe” he agreed.

“So, how would someone do that – gain visual access to a room with a computer?”

Nessa blinked at her in surprise, not having foreseen such an abrupt change in topic, but Jase seemed intrigued.

“Not with the Millers, but I guess I could have. The camera on a laptop or desktop has a more limited view than what I needed. But if you don’t have time or access to install cameras, an internal one on a laptop will give you at lease some visual on a space.”

“Makes sense,” Briel noted with coolness. “And the same with a microphone, I imagine?”

“Of course,” Jase scoffed. “Just like the camera. Are you looking to try this?” Jase glanced at Briel doubtfully. “You're not particularly known for your computer expertise. I could make you a thumb drive.”

Briel tried not to feel insulted. “No, I'm not going to try it. I'm just curious.”

The next words Briel heard came from nowhere, and for a minute, she did not recognize their source.

“You are so lying!”

When Briel turned in the direction of the words, she encountered Nessa's horrified expression, as if shocked that words had left her own mouth.

“What?” Briel scoffed. Never would she have expected such contradiction from her sweet-spoken friend.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Well, apparently you did...” Briel stammered, trying not to give vent to irritation. Nessa couldn’t possibly understand the dance Briel and Jase engaged in just to exist in each other’s presence, and that accusation had given Jase fodder to torment Briel later, if he so chose. “...what did you mean by it? Why do you say I'm lying?”

“I say it because,” Nessa hesitated, “I think you're more than just curious. Something in your voice – this is important to you. But not professional – not for a case.”

Though Briel felt annoyed at having such a perceptive friend, she stopped herself from lashing out against the basically defenseless Nessa. Besides, Briel wanted to solve her dilemma more than she wished to conceal her interest. “Fine,” she huffed. “I have a vested interest.”

“Which is?” Jase prompted, newly curious.

Briel sighed – was she really going to make herself vulnerable to Jase. She wouldn’t think of it that way. She would consider it a play for intel. Swallowing her nerves, she pressed forward. “On Wednesday, I checked my computer to see if I had a message from Sara. On the screen with Sara's message, I saw another message, one that should not have been there. I mean, I have several layers of security to block any unsolicited messages, but on my screen, I had a message from an unknown contact I hadn't authorized.”

“On the company app?” Nessa wondered, concerned.

“Yes,” Briel confirmed. She glanced around at her friends' faces, insecure in sharing anything about herself. “First, the person asked me how the coffee is in San Antonio, which is a little strange, but I didn't find anything menacing about it. Since the sender seemed to be offline, I couldn't respond, and I thought I might have to just call in Team security to strip my computer. I hate doing that, though, so I didn't do it right away. I thought maybe I could fix it myself.”

“Thus the questions for me?” Jase inferred.

“Thus the questions for you.” Briel glanced at Nessa for a sign to stop, but Nessa seemed fully engaged, and Briel was having trouble restraining her own enthusiasm at the exchange. “But you haven't heard everything yet,” she continued. “My computer is set to go into hibernation when it's not used for a few minutes, but it comes out of it if I touch the keyboard. So it's never really off. So, first and most importantly, I want to know how much of my life this person has monitored.”

Still no response from Jase.

“Secondly, though, I have to wonder if this is in some way related to my current case. I know that’s not a foregone conclusion, since I guess lots of people would like to have access to the information I have acquired over the years. But who keeps that kind of information on their computer? Anyone from the industry would know we keep important stuff disconnected from the Net. Business people might not know that – even criminal enterprises may not know that. So I was thinking that someone from ProtoComm who doesn’t understand the system, who wants to know what I have on the Emelia Alvarez case? Concerned about corporate integrity after your defection, Jase? They know you left with me. Either that, or it could just be personal. Maybe the person had a non-business reason to contact me.” Briel searched Jase’s face to read his impression, but she could not read him. Of course, I can’t, she complained internally.

“Surely you don’t have anyone who would come after you personally, Briel.” She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to determine how much sarcasm he intended, but she couldn’t discern. Of all people, Jase knew how her uncompromising nature could prove offensive on a personal level. He had always been above the petty, but his stint in Banff had certainly revealed a more human layer to Jase Hamilton. “And Banff is only the latest in your many successful campaigns,” he continued. “I wouldn’t get too stuck on one option. Even in your current case, ProtoComm is not the only interested party. ProtoComm is a middle man. Whoever your client is might have enemies.”

“Maybe, but I would like to turn the table; maybe I can reverse the process. I could play along with this guy while I use the link to dig for intel.”

“Even without Bill at ProtoComm, it’s a dangerous game, delving into their business…” Finally some emotion on Jase’s countenance. Was it a concerned warning? Or was it a threat?

“It may be a moot point anyway; I waited several days to see if the person would send me another message, and he did, but it didn’t seem to be related to ProtoComm.”

“What was it about?” Nessa wondered.

“It was strangely…personal. Well, you kind of know the story, Nessa. You invited me out that first night, and then Liam came over, and I proceeded to break up with him...”

For a moment, Briel couldn't go on. Her mind had wandered to the exchange with Liam and the odd excitement she had felt at reading the message on the screen. After all her years of levelheadedness, had she lost her mind? Any sane person would have planted tracing software on her computer, or added security, or called in a Team specialist. Yet, Briel had not. She forced herself to breathe and continued before her audience could notice.

“So, did they hack your microphone and camera?” Jase urged. “Is that why you asked me about it.”

“That’s my best guess. After my exchange with Liam, a message popped up on the computer saying to be cautious with him, as if the guy on the computer had heard the whole thing. How could he do that? So, of course, I had to search my room for planted surveillance equipment, and when I did, the guy responded by telling me not to waste my time looking for equipment because he didn't plant any. Which meant he could see me, too.”

Nessa sat shell-shocked for a minute then ventured, “Wow, that’s…You said guy. Do you know for certain it's a man?”

“Well, no,” Briel admitted, glancing at Jase. “I guess I just meant 'person.' You know, like, 'you guys'?”

“So, we're talking a hack of your computer's camera and microphone.” Jase interrupted. “The personal angle is odd – why would this person want you to mistrust Liam?”

“That’s a good question…” It was a good question. “I mean, could be jealousy, I guess.”

“Or could want to isolate you.”

“Getting me away from Nessa would work better there – I was already isolating from Liam.”

Jase looked like he wanted to express skepticism, but Briel wasn’t sure about what. He reined in whatever impulse compelled him. “But the person might not have witnessed Nessa there.”

“True. So he might be playing mental games with me, but that leans toward the personal. If it is a professional hack, why would he communicate with me?” she pressed. “It makes sense that, in our line of work, someone would want to monitor me. But wouldn't he want to remain undetected?”

“I would think so,” Nessa agreed. “It’s not the only option, but it would make more sense.”

“So, how do I find out who this person is?” Briel finally queried.

“You’re putting the cart before the horse,” Jase offered. “Your first order of business should be to protect yourself from this person, not waste time on an investigation. You need to wipe your digital signature.”

“But if the person has sought me out, then I want to know who he is. Someone who could do this could just find me again – or seek me out in person. I don't want this mysterious thing hanging out there to jump at me unexpectedly.”

“I would want to know,” Nessa insisted.

“And, I'm not getting rid of the computer,” Briel insisted.

“So, unplug the camera and uninstall the mic,” Jase shrugged, his mien entirely too casual. “...but keep up the conversation. If you're going to protect yourself, you need to understand the threat. Message him, then you can search for clues to his identity while you talk. Also, if you'll let me see your laptop, I might be able to backtrace his location from the connection.”

At that point in the conversation, the waitress sauntered over and flashed a bright smile at Jase, handing him back the credit card he had at some point handed her, thus taking care of the entire bill. Good, Briel smirked. Whether Jase had hacked her computer or not, she didn't mind spending his blood money on something besides himself. Still, part of her recognized his generosity, and she couldn't quite condemn him completely. He just kept surprising her.

“Thank you,” the waitress beamed, apparently starry-eyed at Jase. “Come again.” Briel wondered if the girl stared at him that way because she found him attractive or because he had tipped her really well.

“I'll get the coffee,” Drew offered weakly, spurred on to competition by Jase's chivalry. “Does everyone like Au Lait's?”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” Jase smiled.

Briel rose quickly and headed to the door, eager to escape the scrutiny of her friends so she could process what they had said. To her surprise, Jase reached the exit before her and pushed the door open, holding it securely until everyone had preceded him out in the balmy September air. Briel had not expected his ease with Nessa, the ultimate character judge, but then again, even Nessa might not be able to see past Jase’s carefully-crafted facade.

When Jase caught up to Briel, she quickly scanned the surrounding area for Nessa, somehow shocked that the woman hadn’t accompanied Jase to his car. Of course, then she remembered that Jase had been her date for the night, and she recognized Nessa’s silhouette against a blue SUV a couple of rows away. Briel had ridden in Jase’s high-dollar sports car, and though she had forgotten, instinct had sent her memory back to the proper location.

Jase, for a reason Briel could not fathom, caught up to her and place his hand behind her back as he opened her car door. He waited until she was seated and closed the door behind her before moving to the other side and taking his seat.

Chivalry or control? Briel wondered.

“So, Briel,” he prompted as he shifted the car into drive, “that conversation brought a couple of questions to mind: first of all, do you have any idea who might have hacked your computer? It seems criminal, but you have other ideas apparently?”

Was he trying to figure out if Briel suspected him? Or actually interested in her dilemma? “Is this not something you could ask in front of Nessa? Why wait to corner me in the car?”

Raising his hand in denial, Jase huffed a laugh. “Not trying to trap you, Bri. I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of Drew and Nessa. No pressure.”

Briel couldn’t help but laugh at her own defensiveness, though she couldn’t exactly blame herself – Jase Hamilton deserved the reaction more than pretty much anyone. “Okay, in that case…I have a few theories…someone from FBI days, someone I met on the ProtoComm mission, someone I put away.”

“Anyone in particular from the Bureau?”

“Not something I’m going to tell you…”

Jase grinned. “Okay, I’m just wondering which of our crew you thought would actually step out of the hierarchy and culture to do something like this. Maybe Will Crenshaw. Devin Torres. Abel Jilani. None of the others from when I was there. Did someone else come in after I left?”

“Not that type.”

“Well, Jilani is newly married, so not him. And Crenshaw is in the hospital in an induced coma after injury on the job.”

“He’s a computer guy! How did that happen?”

“He was in the van, you know. Remote. Someone marked it and broadsided it in a getaway attempt. They got the SOB, but Crenshaw was smashed up. He’s expected to make it, and I’m pretty sure they’re bringing him out in a few days, but that does take him out of the running for your computer guy.”

“And I don’t think Devin would do this. He was a friend – I know him well.”

“Okay, so then ProtoComm. That is certainly a free-for-all. It has to be someone you encountered, I guess, but pretty much anyone you encountered there could prove suspect. For your sake, I hope you’re wrong about Devin. That ProtoComm bunch would have no good intent for you. And as far as the third group, did you put down anyone that has the skills to do this?”

Briel paused. “I guess not. At best, I was a peripheral player for any computer op. That’s just not my specialty, as you know.”

“So you don’t think it could be just someone you know, someone from the team?”

“No one from the team would dare,” Briel leveled coldly.

When Jase laughed out loud, Briel almost punched him, though she thought better of it when she realized how fast the car was traveling down the highway. “I admit,” he appeased, “that you are right for most of your team. Which brings me to my second question – do you mind if I ask you a question about Liam? Not in relation to the computer, but just in general.”

“Liam?” Briel wasn’t sure how far she would let the inquiry go. “I guess. But there’s not much to tell.”

“I know you said you guys have broken up, but I’m kind of in agreement with your computer guy. Do you really think Liam has accepted your rejection?”

Briel blew out a breath. “Is it too late for me to say you can’t ask me?”

Since showing up for their “date,” Jase had played at indifference, and even benevolence, as he engaged in casual conversation with the social gathering. His agreement with the guy on the computer raised a suspicion about Jase: pretty much any concern she had about Ted also rang true for Jase. Jase was a contact from the distant past who had a history with Briel. Jase was an FBI contact. Jase at one point had use of ProtoComm’s resources. Jase was a master at portraying what he wanted others to believe and convincing others to believe as he wanted them to believe. Jase was one of the few people who would not feel intimidated by Briel. And most importantly, Jase had good reason to wish Briel ill after Banff.

Whatever he said, therefore, she would have to interpret with care.

“Look,” he continued, “I mean, I’m your date tonight, and he’s your ex.”

“You’re my ex, too,” she reminded him.

Jase laughed. “Fair point, but I know my place in this hierarchy. I’m not trying to overstep. I just know what I have observed. There were two men I noticed at the gym today who seemed significant at all. One was Adam – that man is a machine. And the other was Liam, though I didn’t realize who he was at the time. Liam seems – I don’t know – a little unstable. Are you sure you’re safe?”

Safe from insanity, like Liam, or safe from manipulation, like Jase Hamilton?

“You’re right, Jase. You are at the bottom of the hierarchy. I agreed to go on a date with a friend of a friend. I did not agree to go on a date with you; I will not make that mistake again. I certainly didn’t ask for your advice on my dating life. I know you know my ability, and I have Liam under control. Besides, you know what it’s like when you’ve been on the frontline with someone. Some people – even one’s you may not want to be friends with – are solid in the field. I’ve known him for years, and he’s that kind of solid about his work. And I’m part of the job.”

Jase smirked skeptically. “I get it. It’s the code. I’ll step back. But you need to watch out for him if you ask me.”

The code…haven’t heard that one in a while. Jase didn’t seem ready to expound, and though Briel considered trying to end the years-long mystery, she wasn’t ready to bring up the past with Jase any more than she already had.

Somehow, Briel found herself rebelling against Jase’s expressed concern. For many years, Jase Hamilton had exemplified everything brilliant and accomplished. She had learned her lesson with him, though, both in training and in Italy – even in Banff, if she thought about it – and admiration did not equal trust. She would have to keep her eye on him if he stuck around.