Her Covert Protector (Rogue Protectors Book 4)

“I’ll do it when we get home.” Nadia glared at the man holding her coffee hostage. Didn’t he know he just put his life in peril? “Now give me that.”

“Why can’t you take the test now?” John insisted.

“Because I may still get my period later, and it’s too early.” She extended her hand. “Hand it over, Garrison, if you value your life.”

He deposited the travel mug in her hand, and she stalked out the door. “We’re running late as it is,” she threw over her shoulder, leaving John to lock up since he liked reminding her so much about upgrading the security of her apartment.

Surveillance-wise, she had everyone’s apartment wired. And that was Dad, Clyde, Dugal, and Arthur’s in addition to her own. What she needed was extra hardware for the doors and to hook those up to what she already had.

John caught up with her just as she reached the staircase. “Relax,” he said. “We’re driving straight to the scene, and we’ll probably get there before Gabby and Kelso. The ATMs aren’t going anywhere.”

“True, and it could be another false lead,” she grumbled. Promising leads in the past week turned out to be dead ends. A computer glitch here and there, denial of service attacks, and a few incidents similar to the call out this morning had turned out to be ATM skimmers. Her pulse quickened, but what if it was the real deal this time. There were seven reports in a three-mile radius.

“You won’t be able to do anything without permission from the bank’s IT, right?” John asked.

“Correct. But they usually have their ATM techs already there before they call us. And since it’s not a singular bank, that means different IT departments. We’re also there to give advice and take their statements. I should have set my wake-up alarm,” she groaned. Instead of the smooth crescendo of her morning alarm, the blare of her call-out notification jolted her awake from her position on the couch where she’d been sleeping horizontal with her feet propped on Garrison’s lap.

“Someone suggested starting the Hodgetown series last night,” John said.

“It’s good, right?”

“You fell asleep,” he reminded her.

Nadia laughed. “I did, didn’t I? I’ve already rewatched season one a couple of times. I swear every time I do, I find an easter egg I missed the first time.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting I watch it a couple of times. I’d rather you fill me in on what I missed.”

“You’re such a spoilsport. Did you sleep at all?” she asked. “You should’ve just left my ass on the couch and gone to the bedroom.”

“It wasn’t so bad, and I can sleep anywhere,” he told her. “Besides, I’d carry you to bed first before I’d leave you on the couch.”

When they made it to the ground floor, she said, “Hah! We managed to escape the apartment without Clyde cornering us.”

John chuckled. “Think again.”

She glanced up from looking for her keys and sighed. Clyde and Arthur were returning from their morning walk.

“A bit late for you guys, isn’t it?” she called. John held out his hand for her keys. She hesitated for a moment, but the quicker they made their getaway, the better. He beeped the locks.

“What’s the verdict?” Clyde asked.

“Verdict on what?” Nadia knew exactly what they were asking. She yanked the door open.

“Are we pregnant or not?” the older man asked in exasperation.

“Well, Clyde, I don’t know yet.” She climbed into the Subaru without waiting for his answer. John already had the vehicle backing up.

“Well, when will you find out?” he yelled as they passed the two men.

Nadia just grinned and waved.

John muttered. “The great escape.”

That it was.

“You can’t dodge them forever. You know that, right?” John told her after they emerged from the drive-thru for breakfast burritos. Nadia was craving them hard this morning.

“I know.” She took a giant bite out of one and chased it with coffee.

“You should have done it this morning.”

She ignored him and took another chunk out of the wrap, chewed very slowly before she put it down, and turned in her seat to face him. “One more word out of you and I’m going to wait until this weekend—which is three more days—to pee on that damned stick.”

The Subaru made a turn on South Highland Avenue.

He glanced briefly at her. “You couldn’t wait until Saturday.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jesus, didn’t expect this part to be stressful.”

“Why are you stressed?” she asked.

“Finding out whether I’m going to be a father or not—that’s not stressful? Aren’t you even a little anxious?”

Nadia didn’t answer. She was trying very hard not to think of the eight pregnancy boxes in her apartment.

“I don’t want to be distracted at work.”

“Wouldn’t you be—”

“Stop it!” she hissed. “You’re the one stressing me out. Geez, John.”

He exhaled heavily. “I’m not doing this shit right.”

They fell into silence. Traffic was starting to back up as they approached Wilshire Boulevard.

“You’re always pragmatic,” she finally said when their vehicle crossed the intersection. “The voice of reason. Can you be that for me right now? Before I eat myself sick.” Her stomach started protesting everything she just put in it.

He reached over and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m such an ass about this.”

“I realize we’re handling this situation differently,” she said. “It’s just that when I missed my period this morning, I kinda panicked.” She was still hoping that all the stress since Mexico was the cause of all this. “I just, I just want to reiterate, that if it turns out I’m having your baby, I won’t stand in the way of you wanting a relationship with him … or her. But I don’t want you to feel obligated to have a relationship with me too.”

John released her hand and clutched the steering wheel with both hands. The temperature in the cabin dropped significantly, and when she chanced a peek at him, every angle of his jaw was stark. What she just said must have pissed him off, but Nadia wanted to get that off her chest. She didn’t want him to feel trapped to be with her. Hysterical laughter threatened to burst from her lips at how ridiculous they were jumping the gun on things. She swallowed. She did miss her period this morning.

Oh God.

After another ten minutes of chilly silence, and as they sat in traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard, John said in a measured tone, “I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m shutting down that shit right now—

“John—”

“Quiet and listen,” he snapped. “Because there’s something we should be clear about. Me wanting to be with you has nothing to do with the possibility of you being pregnant. It may have accelerated my timetable but can’t say I’m regretting it. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“You are?”

“I am. So no matter what that test says, I’m not leaving your side. Clear?”

Their SUV took the exit for South Figueroa street. Without taking his eyes off the road, he repeated, “Are we clear?”

Nadia exhaled a resigned breath. “Yes.” The situation between them was confusing because there were two relationships to consider here. Their relationship with each other if there was a child and, their relationship with each other when and if they decided to make a go of it. At this point, she didn’t even have the chance to be clearheaded enough to think.

“Son of a bitch,” John growled. Their vehicle swerved and spun a sharp ninety-degree angle just as a black blur blew past the intersection narrowly missing her side. And like in freeze frame, she turned her head toward John, his mouth was moving but his voice receded in a vacuum as her scream filled her ears.

“John!”

A red pickup was barreling right toward his side. Their SUV zipped further, and the pickup rammed them in the rear causing them to fishtail and face oncoming traffic. Nadia held her breath as another Toyota sedan tried to avoid them, braking and sweeping sideways before screeching to a halt a car length from them. A Corvette braked and shoved the Toyota closer to the nose of her Subaru. It was surreal. Like they were in the front seat of a Hollywood action movie watching the unfolding chaos of cars smashing into each other.

But as the pile up in front of them died down, the sound of crunching metal behind them escalated to epic levels.

They whipped around to see what was happening. John was still cursing, already whipping his phone to an ear and using the heel of his hand to steer the Subaru within a metal cushion of stalled cars that were already lodged tight with nowhere to go.

John tossed the phone on the dashboard and turned to her, releasing her seatbelt, and touched her all over. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just shaken.” She didn’t even hit her head, but her shoulder and neck were starting to feel the burn of the seatbelt.

“Are you sure?” His gaze scanned their surroundings.

“I’m fine.” She forced air in and out of her lungs to avert the signs of an oncoming panic attack. “Oh my God, did the …”

“Traffic lights,” he clipped.

“This is the real thing,” she whispered. Her eyes searched the sea of disabled vehicles, her thoughts turning to the injured, the fatalities. “This is a mass casualty event.” Goosebumps raised on her arms. “What if the Crown-Key—”

“You don’t know that,” he said tersely.

People started to get out of their vehicles, stumbling around in a daze. She was debating the prudence of staying in or getting out of the Subaru.

But John was already on it. “I need to get you to safety. Don’t get out until I come get you.” He grabbed his phone on the dashboard and left the SUV.

Screaming and crying replaced the noise of steel scraping on steel. Nadia spotted a woman in the Toyota, trying to get out of the vehicle. She was pounding on her windows. “Help me!”

“John …” Nadia said.

“I’m on it.” He yanked open her door and helped her out and rushed her between the remains of pancaked vehicles amidst people wandering around like zombies. She realized why John wanted them to leave the scene.

The smell of gas was strong.

“Get inside the building.” He shoved her toward the structure that was beside the roadway. “Get into Cal Traffic Control. Check if they’ve been hacked.” He started running back toward the mangled mess of vehicles, gesturing for people to get off the street. “Go! Go! Go! Get off the road!”

“Hurry, please! My baby!”

The red-haired woman in the Toyota was still screaming. A good Samaritan tried to work the handle, but John could see both sides of the vehicle had sustained damage. They needed to break the glass. The fumes were stronger as he approached the car with the trapped woman.

John unscrewed the antenna from the Toyota. “Stay back! Cover yourself if you can!” he yelled as he pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it around his hand holding the antenna. Going in at an angle, he positioned it against the base of the window so the tip would strike the center. Pulling it back like a bow he turned his head away and let it fly.

The glass cracked and spiderwebbed on the pane.

“Hit it from inside!” John ordered.

The redhead didn’t hesitate and used her jacket to knock the broken glass into the pavement. She twisted around to grab her little girl and handed her to John.

The toddler started crying.

“Hold her.” He shoved the kid to a young man—a good Samaritan. John leaned through the window to adjust his leverage on the woman and hefted her out. The redhead was sobbing in relief and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you! Thank you!”

She collected her toddler from the other man.

“Come on!” John urged, scanning the wreckage of twisted steel for anyone else who was trapped. He shook his shirt out of the broken glass and put it back on.

Sirens echoed in the distance. A blast shook the ground, sending flame and smoke shooting up a few intersections ahead.

The flashing lights of first responders appeared. John blended back into the crowd that congregated in the parking lot of the building where he left Nadia. It was a mayhem of casualties, of people scrambling to help them, and spectators who had their phones filming the scene.

Filming him.

Shit.

“John!”

Nadia rushed toward him and hit him with such force, he took a step back and grunted. “Oh my God, that blast … I was so scared.”

He cupped her face and tipped it up to him. “You worry about me too much.”

Her eyes flashed, and she punched him on the shoulder. “If you don’t want people caring about you, then what the hell are we doing?”

She tried to wrench away from his arms but he held fast. “Nadia.”

“Let me go, asshole!”

“Nadia!” He gave her a light shake.

She didn’t answer but continued to murder him with her eyes.

“I like it.”

A puzzled look came over her face. “What?”

He kissed her lightly. “I like it that you worry about me.”

Her puzzlement turned into incredulous amazement. “What?”

Turning her in his arms, John marched her back to the building. “Come on, Miss Powell, there’s some sleuthing to do.”

“Cal Traffic Control confirmed anomalies in the feedback data of the magnetic sensors in the road strips,” Nadia said.

Gabby and Kelso arrived with the full force of the CTTF team. CSI techs and detectives were dispatched to the original call-out locations of the ATMs that had been emptied of cash. Their team had moved to a nearby police station a few blocks from the building where Nadia and John first took refuge.

First responders established a command post in front of the police station. Over sixty cars were involved in the pileup—two deaths reported along with numerous injuries. But because of the vehicle height and weight restrictions on South Figueroa, catastrophic crashes were minimized.

In the station’s war room, Kelso was on the whiteboard, mapping out the intersections and the traffic lights that were affected. “So it was localized to these?”

“Yes.”

“Explain to me how all those lights turned green?” Kelso asked.

“The computer managing the traffic lights has the ability to send minuscule adjustments to the timings depending on data it receives,” Nadia said. “But historical data has been built into its database so it doesn’t make knee-jerk reactions to a momentary crush of cars. The data analysts are taking a snapshot of the information that was fed into the system at the time of the anomaly and comparing it to their historical information. We’ll get a report soon.”

“Where are we on the IT departments of the banks?” Gabby, who was sitting at the end of the table, asked.

“Two banks already sent their initial findings. It’s not a skimmer, but a hack that controlled the ATM software and bypassed the withdrawal limit that saw a high balance in a bogus account. The perpetrators also managed to wipe out the surveillance camera footage of every single camera within a half a mile radius of the ATM.”

Muttered curses went around the room.

“The Crown-Key did all this?” Henderson asked.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding of what the Key does,” Nadia said. “It’s a penetration tool. It just finds a way to enter the network and deliver its payload.”

“You’re saying any malicious software can use the Key to figure its way into the system,” Gabby said.

“That, and from what I can see from its source code, it also has the ability to learn the best way to deliver a particular program.”

The door to the room opened as John and Bristow walked in. John signaled to Kelso who nodded in return. Kelso addressed the rest of the CTTF squad. “We’ll pick this back up at HQ. I imagine top brass will want an update on this ASAP.”

Nadia, Kelso, and Gabby stayed behind while the rest of the team exited the room. Henderson, though, was casting suspicious glances at Garrison and Bristow.

“Please don’t tell me you have more bad news,” Kelso groaned when the door closed.

“Dmitry Vovk left Kiev on a plane bound for LA,” John said.