There is always danger for those who are afraid. ― George Bernard Shaw

She’s still hung up on Liam, and I think the computer guy is just a way for her to escape from herself. – Conversation between Nessa and Jase

Closing her eyes, Briel allowed the scent from the candles to engulf her senses. Too many unseen and unrealized stresses pulled at her mind, ephemeral and out of reach. She had returned home less than twelve hours earlier, and her muscles still ached with the residue from whatever drug her captors had used to sedate her.

Though she wanted to believe in Ted's innocence, reality washed over her as she left Mexico behind. She had no logical reason to trust an unknown man who had seemed reluctant to share his identity. All of her training contradicted her foolish desire to count him among her allies. Even if Ted and Jase were not the same person, maybe Ted knew her well and had decided to use her loneliness to make her vulnerable. Wasn't such vulnerability what she had always sought to allay by cutting off her emotions? Unreasonable feelings could only leave her susceptible. But instincts? Instincts were solid, where guided by reason. Before she had gone to Mexico, the idea that someone would want to harm her had seemed remote at worst. She did a job, she left the locale, the job stayed behind.

Now, though, every paradigm had shaken, and that included the reliability of her instincts.

Reason did not create instincts; some nebulous sensation, informed by past experience, created instincts. Briel did not want to allow herself that kind of variable in life. Her will, however, could not so easily dismiss her gut, which usually guided her well, and though her reasons escaped her, Ted seemed trustworthy. Without clear reason, Briel had just “believed” in Nessa's innocence; so Briel believed in Ted's. Only the nagging belief that he was Jase really caused her any doubt.

If not for manipulation, though, then why had Ted contacted her covertly? Fear, perhaps? Maybe Ted had run up against Briel's famously impenetrable emotions and had decided not to risk himself. Like millions of people, maybe Ted found relationships easier on the computer and sought them out that way.

Like computer dating? she scoffed, disgusted. The fact that she found the thought attractive made Briel feel pathetic. Sexy in San Antonio, she mocked herself.

So, who would contact her in such a way, and would any of those men deserve attention? She had ruled out everyone distant except Devin Torres – she would have Nessa check up on him. Who was left? Jase. But the answer seemed too simple. Jase had shown up – Ted had shown up. Jase would never prove that stupid, would he? The only vibes she had been getting from Jase were somewhere between irritation and indifference. Was even he that gifted at deception?

In a way, Devin Torres was similar to Jase. He “worked” for the FBI, but Briel knew full well that Devin kept an underground hacking habit. Somewhere between white and red hat. Pink hat? Briel snickered. Anyway, she would keep Devin on the short list. She honestly didn’t like any of the options enough to derive great pleasure in the thought. Jase, Liam, or Devin? All highly competent, all unusually intelligent. Just…not Ted. Even so, she couldn’t quite suppress a tendril of vanity at the idea that any of the three options would make the effort to pursue her.

Of course, the ProtoComm option kept rearing its ugly head to keep her humble and alert.

Rising from the sofa, Briel extinguished all of the candles. What had begun as a gentle glow in the late afternoon sun had grown into a glare as her eyes acclimated to the darkness of the early evening. Briel stood unmoving for several seconds, inhaling the mix of clean cotton and lavender that emitted from the smoldering wicks of the scented candles.

As her visual stimuli ceased, her other senses heightened. The aromas from the candles seemed stronger, though Briel had extinguished them. The snaking smoke coated her tongue heightening her sense of thirst. From the kitchen, a neglected faucet dripped rhythmically. “Turn me off,” it persisted in triplets.

Turning toward the sound, Briel filtered through her thoughts, and she suddenly found herself asking if the plinking water explained the sound she had just heard. An imperceptible feather-brush against her intuition drew her eyes toward her front door where she thought she sensed the unobtrusive shuffle of a step. She also saw a faint shadow, incongruously breaking up the line of light under her doorframe. She waited for the knock, but it did not come. For several minutes, vigilantly alert, she watched the unmoving shade under the door and listened for the indicative clicking of someone's attempt to open the lock.

Am I getting paranoid? she asked herself, provoked at her own sensitivity. The shadow remained still for so long that Briel wondered if it had always stood there, if it belonged to some permanent fixture on her patio. After waiting another minute, Briel's impatience got the better of her, and she crept to the door, grabbing her 238 from the drawer in the table behind the sofa.

Just as she reached the peephole and started to look out, the crashing ring of her cellphone drew her eyes back to the table from which she had retrieved the gun. I have to get a less cacophonous ring, she upbraided herself. Turning back toward the door, she peered through the peephole to reveal the rounded aspect of the trees and plants in her side yard, power lines crisscrossing the view. No human figure met her gaze.

As she glanced to the crack of light that leaked across her threshold, Briel's breathing accelerated slightly. No more shadow. Something had been there but was now gone.

Ring, ring, the phone insisted again.

Still short of breath and more than a little vexed, Briel returned to the table and finally relieved the phone of its urgent command.

“Hello?” She hadn't intended her tone to sound quite so exasperated.

“Hi, Briel. What’s wrong?” came Nessa's concerned voice.

“Nothing,” Briel insisted, still unwilling to completely expose herself to Nessa. The strange shadow and unclaimed noise had rekindled all of the misgivings that her experience in Mexico had excited. “I was just relaxing on the couch and had to jump up really fast to get the phone.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Nessa began. “No, she's fine,” Nessa asserted away from the phone.

“Who are you talking to?” Briel's curiosity rose.

“Oh,” Nessa sounded hesitant. “Um, it's Jase. He needed some help with the computer protocol for Sara.”

Right, Briel appraised incredulously. And a phone call wouldn't suffice?

Briel's ego deflated a degree. Maybe she needed to urge Nessa to caution over Jase Hamilton. Caution I should heed? she challenged herself, aware that she had spent too much time trying to decide if Jase was Ted.

“Are you coming over again tonight?” Nessa interrupted Briel’s thoughts. “Jase found this podcast discussing fatalism and free will.” Briel rolled her eyes – her friends, whatever their status with her or each other, were nerds. “It sounded really interesting,” Nessa continued.

“Tell her we'll have beer and hockey, too, for the less intellectually inclined.” Briel could make out Jase's voice from the background noise on the phone. If that’s flirtation, he may have just exposed his one failure in life.

Though she couldn't relish the idea of enduring the tension of a night with Jase and Nessa, Briel’s anxiety and worries made for poor company. She felt thankful that she wouldn't need to spend a restless night alone with her concerns about who had abducted her, about the shadow under the door. She had no desire to wait around to face her paranoia. Psychoanalyzing Jase to figure out if he were involved in any of her current issues had to be better than psychoanalyzing herself.

“Sure, I'll come over,” Briel conceded.

“Eight?”

“Eight.”

Turning to the clock on her mantel, Briel sighed. 6:45. She really didn't want to wait so long to leave the isolation of her apartment. The computer screen beckoned her. She hadn't heard from Ted since she returned from Mexico. Her first day back, Briel had basically run to her computer to engage her rescuer in conversation.

So, can we stop this stupid game now? Are you going to tell me who you are? She had almost flung the words from her fingers to the keyboard in one motion.

Of course, he didn’t answer. Because if he had answered, Briel would be able to figure out exactly what had happened in Mexico. Whether he were a good guy or a bad guy, whether he was screwing with her or flirting with her. No, that would be entirely too satisfying, and you, Briel Cortes, are destined to be dissatisfied. Rather than simmer on her frustration, she shut of the screen and walked out the front door. She should get into the habit of parking in the garage…

As much as she wanted to relegate her earlier misgivings to imagination, Briel's skin pricked as she traversed the dimly-lit expanse between her front door and her car. Though her rationally trained mind should have relied on evidence to determine her safety, she could not shake the sensation that someone watched her.

This is completely irrational, she chastised herself. Her job had trained her to recognize specific signs, not to follow hunches and listen to vague impressions. She checked the reflection in her car windows and saw nothing behind her. For a moment, she fumbled noiselessly with her keys as if looking for the right one, listening for any unusual shuffle or snap that would belie a footstep. Once seated, she took a few minutes to freshen her makeup, all the while gauging her surroundings using covert glances and peripheral vision. She encountered no evidence. She saw no signs. Nothing to worry about.

Yet, she could not relax.

Even as she pulled briskly from her driveway, her imagination inserted the image of a creeping figure darkening a silhouette against her living room window. Its very nebulousness testified against its existence, but she could not erase it from her mind. Ignoring her irrational fear, she reversed out of the driveway and headed the few blocks over to her friend's apartment.

“Hey,” Briel called out timidly as she waved into Nessa's peephole a few minutes later. So much for distancing herself from Nessa. Instead, Briel felt more of a need for the stability that Nessa brought. Briel liked nice, predictable situations in her personal life. Since Phoenix, Briel had found little stability except her consistent, if evolving, friendship with Nessa. Even if it cost her some independence, Briel willingly sacrificed it to give her mind something solid to rest on. Nessa cared about her friends, and Briel would force herself into the friendship if it provided her a calm place to think.

The door flew open in Briel's face, and Nessa's smiling visage intruded upon the doorway. In the background, Jase rose somewhat hesitantly and smiled in the ladies' general direction. Briel searched his face for signs of admiration, but inclination toward such sentiments seemed more directed toward Nessa than toward herself.

“Briel, you look a little tense,” Nessa asserted in her usual, insightful manner.

Jase smirked, no doubt noticing Briel's grimace at the comment. Briel growled at him internally.

“I'm fine,” Briel insisted more tersely than she had intended.

“Well, come on in,” Nessa offered, unbothered by her friend's surliness.

Briel found a comfortable spot in which to curl up - an oversized leather chair which sat just askance of the main furniture grouping – and settled in to a peripheral spot where she could observe the conversation without participating. Of course, she found no pleasure in the philosophical discourse that had begun before she arrived. Eventually, though, Jase and Nessa wandered into topics of more interest to Briel, and she began to enjoy the evening. Her friends' comfortable banter felt pleasant, and Briel even interjected the occasional comment into the conversation.

After two hours of menial discourse, though, Briel lost interest. Too many flesh and blood issues had thrust themselves into her world lately to allow abstract notions any hold in her mind, and she grew impatient to address topics more relevant to her own life. Briel had always preferred practicality over theory. Without preface, she leaned forward on her chair and breathed in a fortifying breath.

“You guys are sitting here discussing big government, but you both know the government is only one aspect that we have to be worried about. What about companies? And individuals? Of all people, we see this. How do we all sit around and pretend like they aren’t keeping track of us.”

As soon as she said it, she knew she had let her frustration leak into her words.

“In other words, you still haven't figured out the Ted thing, right?” Jase smirked knowingly. When Briel responded with only a glare, Jase checked his sarcasm and moved to his laptop, flipping it open without ceremony. Briel had to wonder at his self-control. “I thought we had covered this. Is there some new development?” Looking up into her face, he stopped typing and wiped a delighted grin across his face. “You realize that whoever did this is a genius, mostly because he got under your skin.”

And there are the mind games… Briel sighed.

When Nessa snickered, Briel shot her a glare.

“The use of technology is not particularly impressive at this point, but his psychological tactics seem to be working.”

“Forget it,” Briel barked. “It was just curiosity; nothing more. I'm less interested in how he spied on me and more interested in how he found me in the first place.”

“Now, that is an interesting question. He would have to know you, to have some measure of access to your friends or work history. I mean, it's not like he can Google you. If I could be there when he contacted you, I might be able to figure out more. Maybe I could install some software on your computer that could track him or at least give us some leads. Do you think he would answer if you contacted him from my computer?”

“Not likely. He's the suspicious type. Plus, he hasn't contacted me in a while, so he probably isn't monitoring my correspondence very closely. I'm not even sure he still has any need to talk to me.” Briel tried not to sigh. Unfortunately, she could neither shake nor solidify her suspicions about “Ted.”

“That's eating you up, I see,” Jase smiled mischievously - almost as if he found personal satisfaction in the fact…

“Not really; I just don't usually encounter a mystery I can't solve,” she lied nonchalantly. Whatever Jase’s role, she would not give him an ounce of satisfaction by revealing any irritation.

“Well, go ahead and try to contact him,” Jase prompted, pulling his laptop onto his lap and glancing at the screen. His eyes narrowed in focus, and he clicked the mouse several times before he handed the laptop to Briel.

“He'll notice that I'm contacting him from a new IP address,” Briel insisted skeptically. “And he'll probably scan your computer and have all your information before he replies.”

“Maybe to the first part; not likely to the second. Still, people don't always use their home computers to access the internet. I mean, you have a work computer, a home computer, a laptop, a tablet, a phone...”

“Okay; I got it. I can try.”

Jase positioned himself over her shoulder so he had full view of the screen and nodded encouragingly to her.

Holding her breath, Briel pulled up Jase's chat utility and signed into her account. She typed in a message.

So, you asked me about the coffee here. You should come try it for yourself, she typed, controlling her trembling fingers lest Jase recognize how anxious she was for a response. Now that she had begun, she realized the stupidity that her curiosity had burdened her with. If Ted answered, he might say something about the kidnapping, and Briel did not intend to reveal anything about it to Jase.

Still, after five excruciating minutes, no response came, and no message stating that Ted was offline greeted her either. So, either he wouldn't respond or he couldn't. Maddening.

“I don't understand,” she began aloud. “Look. It says he's online. If he's available, why won't he answer?”

“Well, you said it. Maybe he doesn't recognize the IP address. Maybe he's been trying to hack through my security for the past few minutes.” Jase shrugged. “Or he could simply be away from his computer, or purposely avoiding you, or any number of reasons. I did figure out that your admirer might be located somewhere in Mexico or Central America.”

“How can you tell that?”

“Well, he hasn't blocked my pings, so I can trace them back to the source. Of course, he has a program that reroutes the signals so that they are not really indicative of his true location, but I noticed a pattern that seems to point to that locale. I could be wrong; the technology is advanced, but if he's leaving his signal open, he's not exactly trying to hide from you either.”

Briel couldn't help but notice that Jase had done the exact same thing to Ted that Ted had done to her, triangulating his position using computer signal. Of course, the coincidence didn't equal a correlation, and she couldn't feel quite surprised that Jase possessed such capability on the computer. One thing she had always known about Jase – if it protected him or made him money, he could learn it.

Rather than ponder Jase and his abilities, Briel raked through her brain looking for acquaintances who might currently reside in Central America. Perhaps Devin had relocated; she hadn't talked to him in years - he still had relatives in Michoacan. Considering that her kidnapping happened in Mexico, Briel wondered at the coincidence. Ugh! she complained silently. She didn't like the connections her brain was making. How could she dismiss the reality that both her kidnapper and her computer contact resided in Central America? But he had helped her! The possibility of his complicity didn't make an ounce of sense. No, she was right about Ted – he had helped her.

“It's really no big deal,” Briel finally shrugged at Jase and Nessa, tired of the tension of indefinite waiting. “It's not really important. If he has criminal motives, I'll be ready for him, and if not, he'll find me again when he wants.”

“Seriously, Briel. We'll help you keep looking,” Nessa insisted earnestly. “I want to help you, and it's kind of fun, too.” The look on her face spoke sincerity and interest, and Briel couldn't keep from smiling in return at her friend. Nessa's use of the word “we” had not escaped Briel, though, and she decided that Nessa needed watching. If she had begun to speak for herself and Jase as a unit, perhaps their friendship had started to transition. Interesting. And maybe dangerous for Nessa. She seemed entirely too naive to navigate the complex psyche of Jase Hamilton.

“Thanks, Ness. I know you will. Look...” Enough social time for one day. “...I'm exhausted. I'll just see you guys in the morning, okay?” Briel stood and glided swiftly to the door lest someone try to delay her. Before she could reach it, Nessa called out to her.

“Oh, Briel?” The slight pink on Nessa's cheeks reinforced the suspicion about Jase that had begun growing in Briel's mind. “Do you think you could drop Jase off at Cafe Benito? He rode with me here after dinner, and since you have to pass right by it...” Nessa trailed off expectantly. With Nessa's years of life experience, Briel wondered, amused, that Nessa could so easily blush. What Nessa did with Jase was no one's business but her own.

“Of course,” Briel smiled coolly. “No problem.”

As Briel reentered her car, this time with Jase, her earlier misgiving returned in full force. The irony struck her. Right now, her life batted around between adolescent romance and life or death peril. Not only that, but each player who had entered the fray could be the bearer of either result. With Jase in the car, Briel didn't know whether to play hard-to-get or prepare for battle. Perhaps either action would bring the same result. For about five minutes, an awkward silence reigned between them as she drove him toward the restaurant. Finally, as Briel entered the parking lot, Jase broke into her strained muteness.

“Um, Briel, I really didn't want to mention this because Nessa asked me not to, but I think she wouldn't begrudge me the broken promise if I save her friend's life.”

Briel's brow creased in confusion, “What is it?”

“Did you really run into Jack Buckley in Mexico?”

Shock spoiled her usual calm. How could Nessa spill Briel's secret like that? “Yes, he had kidnapped our client's daughter, so I went looking for him,” she asserted.

“Don't you mean he came looking for you? He kidnapped you.”

Looking out the window, Briel huffed in frustration at the man beside her. She didn't need the streetlamp to know that he wore an angry expression. What exactly was he playing at? He sounded like a disappointed older brother. “Look, Jase. I'm fine. Thanks but no thanks for your concern. I've got this.”

Jase laughed humorlessly, “Believe me, Briel. You and I have known each other a long time, and I know how little you usually need help. Don't think I'm underestimating you. I just think you're underestimating the danger of your situation.”

“Why do you say that? I've seen Jack Buckley. He's a bloated dirtbag who orders around weak, mindless men. Most likely he just accepted me as a convenient exchange for our client's daughter. I don't think Jack Buckley has anything personal against me. He has easier and more alluring prey, I'm sure.”

“True, but I have a little more insight into the people you're dealing with here, and I can think of several reasons to worry about Jack Buckley. For one thing, I think you underestimate your own desirability for Henry and his ilk. A strong and beautiful woman can garner a high price on the black market. Not that they would come looking for you when they have plenty of other resources, but if you keep putting yourself in their way...”

Briel had personal knowledge of that fact, so, despite the flattery of his words, she heard their sentiment loud and clear.

“Also,” he continued, “Jack Buckley is, in a way, like I am. He doesn't ever function as a chief executive; he plays liaison and middle man. Even without Henry, chances are he's working for someone more powerful than he is and with better resources. And I seriously doubt that Henry is really out of play.”

Middleman, Briel scoffed. The characterization gelled too well with Briel's preconceived opinion of Jase, and much of her growing benevolence toward him evaporated. “You may be right,” she asserted uncomfortably. “But that doesn't prove that I have anything to worry about now.” At least, she wouldn't admit to him that she had held the same worry that very evening. “Coming after someone as well trained as I am would cost too many resources for a man in the conditions where Jack Buckley finds himself. To travel hundreds of miles to capture someone who could take out most of his men would be counterproductive, especially with so many easy targets nearby.”

Jase sighed, obviously exasperated with Briel's attempts to explain away any danger.

“Look,” he finished, placing his hand on the door handle. “Jack will definitely take what is handed to him, and you were handed to him before. Who did that? Someone did that. If someone has made an agreement with Jack Buckley once, he'll likely do it again, and Jack would willingly accept you.” He nodded dismissively toward Briel, as if his point were obvious. “Just remember that I know Jack extremely well.”

“How could I forget that?” Briel blurted, annoyed by his persistence.

Jase didn't react to her irritation. “If you need any information about him, come to me. I will help you. If not for your own sake, do it for Nessa. She's really worried about you.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Briel responded unconvincingly. She didn't appreciate his appeal to her friendship with Nessa, as if he could manipulate Briel into acquiescence.

Jase pressed his lips together in a frustrated smile and pushed open the door.

“Take care of yourself,” he commanded. “Please,” and Briel wondered at the warmth of his personal appeal. It wasn’t Ted – she still didn’t get that vibe – but it was concerned, almost brotherly. The gratitude she had abandoned after Venice peeked out of the hole in which she had buried it. Unfortunately, she couldn't quite dismiss all her misgivings about him or his skill at manipulation, so she pulled back from any frank admissions.

Even though she knew full well why she pulled away from everyone, Briel felt the dark coolness of isolation settle thickly upon her when Jase stepped out of her car. She had pushed Liam out of her life, and since Nessa had spilled Briel's secret to Jase, Briel felt unsure of how much she would continue to invest in Nessa. So much for the comfort of friendship. Nessa now offered her little more than the occasional excuse for a social lunch, and Briel had problems that could have used the sensible counsel of a friend.

Someone had drugged and kidnapped Briel, and she couldn't even narrow the number of suspects down into the twenties. Even those around her – Jase, the team – stood with the cloud of suspicion obscuring their faces. Add to that the several dozen criminals she had helped defeat in the past few years, and Briel had more possible enemies than she could ever dream of investigating.

Suddenly, the darkness that enveloped her speeding car whispered threats in her ears, and despite her intention to remain in control, irrational visions of unknown enemies churned in her mind. She shivered as she drove into the black night.