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  Contents

  In the Shadow of Greed

  In the Shadow of Evil

  In the Shadow of Malice

  In the Shadow of Pride

  In the Shadow of Vengeance

  Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  In the Shadow of Greed

  Nancy C. Weeks

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Nancy Crisp Weeks

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-6762-X

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6762-9

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6763-8

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6763-6

  Cover art © 123rf.com

  This book is dedicated to my amazing family. We have laughed together, cried together, and supported each other through thick and thin. You make my life richer every day by just being in it.

  Acknowledgments

  There have been so many people who have helped make this book come together. First and foremost, I want to thank Eddie, Martin, and Megan, my wonderful family. You have eaten far too many grilled hotdogs so I could have time to write. I see home cooked meals returning in the near future . . . and chocolate cake. I love you.

  Thank you to my amazing editor at Crimson Romance, Julie Sturgeon. Julie, your suggestions first made me cringe, but in the end, I have only one thing to say: You are a genius! It was such a joy to work with you.

  No writer can get this far without amazing critique groups. I have been truly blessed in that department. To my wonderful beta reader and sister, Mary. You have read every word, more than once. This book is as much yours as it is mine, and I will always love you with o so my heart. To my on-line critique group, Lethaladies: RWA-KOD. I brought you a story and you turned it into a polished manuscript I was proud to send out and turned me into a writer. I’m so honored to be part of such a wonderful group. To my MRW Muses: Anna, Margaret, Ann, Marianne, and Janet. You have a special place in my heart and I will always consider you my Muse.

  Thank you to my very knowledgeable technical team: Martin, for teaching me about cyber security, cyber crime, and for answering my hundred questions. To Jeff and Adam: for teaching me about things I have no business typing into an Internet search engine. You kept the real guys in black suits from knocking on my door. To Tim: for answering my constant questions about police procedure. I have such a respect for law enforcement officers. If I got it wrong, I did so to make it work in the scene. Forgive me. To Dr. Stephanie Trifoglio: for helping me understand what it is really like to live in a coma. And finally, to Doug: for answering my endless questions about helicopters. Thank you also for your continued service to our country.

  Chapter One

  March

  Noran Defense Systems, Annapolis Junction, Maryland

  This is agony—self-inflicted agony.

  Dr. Sarah Tu sat at her terminal and combed through the project’s test results one more time, trying not to yank her hair out. Something was off with the test, but she just couldn’t see it.

  She leaned back in her chair and scanned her computer lab. Her team was out celebrating, and with their absence, gone was the constant noise, panic-charge energy, and chaos. There was almost an eerie, pin-drop silence left behind. The only sound came from the constant hum of cooling fans behind the row of servers.

  Sarah took a moment and closed her tired eyes. Between the flickering overhead lighting and the glare off her computer monitor, all that registered was a dance of white spots. She rubbed the strain from her temples, shook off the exhaustion, and opened her eyes, focusing her attention on the screen.

  The new computer virus propagated across the test environment’s virtual network. In the test, the command and control servers of the QUALNTO botnet were being infected much faster than the live results seemed to suggest.

  “Why aren’t the tests the same?” she muttered to herself.

  An alarm from her cell phone filled the silent room. She glanced at her wristwatch and cringed.

  Shit. I need just a few more minutes.

  She refocused her attention on the computer monitor. “It’s not replicating fast enough.” She raked both hands over her face. “But, is that the fault of the test environment—or did we mess up?”

  “You didn’t mess up, Dr. Tu. You’re just being your obsessive self,” Henry Norcross, the CEO of Noran said from the doorway.

  Sarah jerked back from the terminal and faced the lab’s entrance. She had been so engrossed; she never heard the whoosh of her lab door open. “Hi, Henry,” she said, trying to smile, but she knew it never reached her eyes. How could she muster a smile when all she wanted to do was hit something?

  “Sarah, what are you doing back here? Your team is working their way through my liquor cabinet.” He raised his cell phone. “And your sister is tearing up my phone with texts.”

  Heat spread to Sarah’s cheeks. “Sorry, Hanna shouldn’t be bothering you.”

  “Hanna and I made a pact.”

  “Oh, good grief,” she moaned, cross her arms around her waist, and pinned her boss with a glare. “What kind of pact?”

  “We’ve decided since you seem incapable of having a little fun, we would force fun on you.”

  “I know how to have fun.” She lifted her hands and her gaze scanned the abandon lab. “This is fun.”

  Henry shook his head and strolled further in the room. He took a moment and studied the line of code on her laptop. “You’re as bad as a young mother who follows her kindergartner’s bus to school.” He nodded at the screen. “You worked months on this project. It’s amazing, brilliant even. All you have to do is step away and let it do its job.”

  “But . . . ”

  “No buts. Get the hell out of this lab. Celebrate with your team, or better yet, with your sister on the warm sands of Myrtle Beach and drink yourself silly.”

  “I just need fifteen minutes to go over the specs again and I’m out of here.”

  Henry let out a noisy sigh. “Fine. Cross your T’s. Just remember, I made your sister a promise. Don’t make me break it.”

  This time Sarah did smile. Henry Norcross was her best friend, the greatest mentor anyone could ask for. He had Sean Connery’s physique and Ernest Borgnine’s smile, the perfect grandfather figure, and she adored him.

  He moved toward the door and turned. “Sarah, your life is out there,” he said, pointing beyond the lab. “It’s not in this sterile lab. And please don’t keep Hanna waiting for too long. I hate what that does to you.”

  “Fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

  • • •

  How could she do this to me again? I’m going to kill her.

  Hanna Tu wiped a nonexistent stain from the kitchen table with a damp towel and glanced at the wall clock for the tenth time in five minutes. Her gaze turned to the luggage, pillows, and grocery bags filled with various calorie-laden snacks that littered the floor of the small foyer. Everything five young women would need for a week at the beach.

  Three angry blasts from a car
horn followed by two more honks resounded in the apartment. Hanna peered through the kitchen window. The parking lot a story below was bathed in vibrant rays of red, orange, and yellow sunlight streaking across the evening sky.

  She glanced at the clock again, guilt eating away at her gut. She and her friends should have been sitting at an outdoor patio table overlooking the ocean while gorging themselves on fabulous, greasy Buffalo wings and margaritas.

  When another long, piercing blast from the car horn filled the apartment, Hanna turned and faced her friend, Calista.

  “They aren’t going to stop. You need to just leave.”

  Calista stood at the door, her arms overloaded with beach towels. Dropping the towels at her feet, she stormed into the small kitchen and yanked the rag out of Hanna’s hand. “This trip was your idea, Hanna. Please come with us. It won’t be any fun without you.”

  “I won’t leave without Sarah.” As angry as she was at her sister, Hanna would never deliberately hurt her. They weren’t just sisters but best friends, each the other’s lifeline.

  Calista took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes narrowing on the clock over the oven. “We rescheduled this trip for her. She should have been here an hour ago and she’s ignoring your calls. She has buried herself in another one of her projects, so just leave her and come with us.”

  “No. Sarah promised me she would be here.” Hanna slammed the door of the dishwasher hard enough the dishes rattled. She turned and glared at her friend. “When Sarah makes a promise, she never breaks it.”

  Hanna ran her hands through her waist-length black hair, yanked a band off her wrist and pulled it all into untidy ponytail. She, too, glanced at the clock and tried to keep her mind from spiraling into dangerous territory.

  What if something happened? She never remembers to charge her damn cell phone. What if she can’t call me?

  Panic slammed into her gut.

  Calista raised her arms then dropped them to her side, her shoulders sagging. “You’re not your sister’s keeper,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ve missed so much waiting for her. I hate how she ignores you; how she thinks everything she’s involved in is more important than you. She’s just like your dad.”

  “She’s nothing like our father. You’re pissed. I get that. But you know Sarah,” Hanna said, shaking her head. “She’s not self-centered but focused. She may tune out the world when she’s in her lab and lose track of time, but that’s devotion.”

  Hanna leaned against the door of the dishwasher and closed her arms around her middle. “If I leave without her, it will crush her. Go. We’ll catch up before you can sip your first mimosa at breakfast. She’s likely on her way and hasn’t called because her phone is dead.”

  Calista flung her heavy backpack over her shoulder and retrieved her pile of towels. Hanna read the disappointment in her friend’s eyes. Her own regret settled in the pit of her stomach.

  “You have the address to my aunt’s condo?” Calista asked.

  Hanna nodded.

  “You better show up, Hanna, or I’m going to be pissed. And Sarah’s going to know it.” Calista hugged her friend hard and left the apartment.

  Hanna leaned her shoulder against the doorframe and watched her friends pack the trunk. As they drove out of the parking lot, her chest grew tight and her eyes filled with tears. Stepping back inside, she locked the door. A tear escaped and streamed down her cheek. As she lifted a hand to wipe it away, the pungent smell of Aramis cologne hit her nostrils. Tiny needle pricks covered her skin and a shiver crept up her spine. She froze.

  Everything in her urged her to unlock the door and run, but instead she turned and came face to face with a man she barely recognized. He stood inches from her. Before she was able to scream, he shoved her up against the door, her body slamming hard on the metal frame. He jammed his arm over her throat and pressed a damp, sickening-sweet smelling cloth over her face. The smell made her gag. Out of pure instinct, she held her breath.

  A cold chill stabbed through her body as her heartbeat raced. She clamped her hands on his arm and tried to yank it away from her throat. She couldn’t breathe. But her struggle only made his chokehold tighter. He yanked her hard against him and then slammed her body into the wall, her head striking hard.

  An intense pain shot through the back of her head, followed by overwhelming nausea. Before she could catch her breath, he grabbed the front of her blouse and dragged her toward the living room. She tripped and stumbled to her knees.

  She gasped for a breath as she tried to form the word why. He wrenched her against him and yelled into her face. She could see his lips move, but the words made no sense. His eyes went cold, burning into hers as his nostrils flared. Each word spit out at her was angrier than the last, but the drumming of her heartbeat drowned out all sound, all reason. Nothing got through. As she slipped into a vortex of pain and darkness, she prayed one last prayer. Please, God, keep Sarah safe.

  • • •

  Hanna awoke with the sound of a car door slamming and the sharp click of heels darting across the pavement and up a flight of stairs.

  Sarah. She’s here.

  Hanna’s thoughts swirled like black clouds, images bleeding one into another until they lost all comprehension.

  Her head rested on a soft pillow and cool sheets caressed her back and legs. She tried to shift and get a glimpse of her surroundings. A piercing, sharp pain shot from the front to the back of her head. She whimpered, but it came out like gurgling.

  Shit. Another migraine.

  She hadn’t had one in months. The blackness swept in from the corners. It comforted her and eased the pain to a dull ache. She attempted to move, but her limbs didn’t respond. Her body was completely numb. It felt like every muscle, every nerve was shot full of Novocain. But her sense of hearing was strong and clear. She was not only hearing her own heartbeat but Sarah’s, and it raced.

  How am I feeling two heartbeats?

  Hanna struggled to open her eyes. Her lids weighed a ton and the strain caused another sharp pain to shoot through her head.

  My God, what’s wrong with me?

  When the pain eased, a crystal clear image of Sarah flashed before her. Her sister stood on the last step of the breezeway before the second floor of Hanna’s apartment complex. She glanced out over the parking lot.

  Every thought that passed through Sarah’s head shot through Hanna’s mind. What Sarah felt—the guilt and disappointment in herself—were there for Hanna to feel. She tried to shake her sister’s voice from her head, but the excruciating pain returned, easing only when she stopped struggling.

  When Sarah searched for Hanna’s car and found it in its assigned slot, a moment of calm settled over her until she couldn’t find Calista’s CR-V. Hanna’s heart slammed hard against her ribs as Sarah’s regret moaned in her head.

  “She left with Calista,” Sarah’s voice quivered inside Hanna’s head. “I let her down, again.”

  Through Sarah’s despair, images began to form in Hanna’s head of where Sarah spent the last several hours. Sarah didn’t forget her or the trip. What kept her away was so much more important than a week at the beach.

  Hanna tried to stop the images from flooding her mind. She didn’t want this. It was too much, but the vision remained as vivid as a scene from a movie.

  Sarah darted around the collection of empty clay pots by the door. She lifted her hand and knocked. The sound vibrated through Hanna’s head. Sarah waited a few moments and knocked again.

  “Please open the door, Hanna. I’m so sorry I’m late.”

  When Sarah dug through her purse and pulled out her spare key, Hanna began to struggle against her invisible bonds. Sarah couldn’t come into her apartment. She had to stop her.

  “Come on, Hanna. I’m here now. Please open the door. I cleared my whole week. Henry told the guards at the gate not to allow me anywhere near Noran until next Monday. I’ll hand over my Blackberry. You can toss it in the freezer if you want. J
ust open the door and let me make this up to you.”

  No, Sarah. Run!

  Horrifying images of the last few hours crashed through her memory. That man . . . where was he? Was he still here?

  Excruciating pain ripped through every cell and she screamed out. Blessed darkness began to seep through her mind. She pushed back the void even though she welcomed it. She had to protect Sarah. She gazed in horror as Sarah placed the key in the slot, turned the lock, and opened the door.

  “Well, now you’re being petty, little sister. You chained me out? Really, Hanna?”

  Hanna watched Sarah slam her shoulder against the door. A sympathetic pain shot up Hanna’s arm.

  Sarah. No. Stop!

  Then the smell hit both sisters at once. A coppery metallic stench wafted through the crack in the door. The overpowering scent of vomit and urine followed.

  Hanna could feel Sarah’s heart begin to drum in her chest. Sarah opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. She frantically yanked at the door then banged her shoulder against it, fighting the simple security chain that kept her from her sister. She stuck her face in the gap of the door as much as the chain would allow. Her gaze landed on a spot of red on the tile foyer.

  Hanna cringed at the sight of her own wet drops of blood and tried again to fight whatever kept her from reaching Sarah. The imagines in Hanna’s head grew clearer, brighter.

  Don’t look, Sarah. Shut the door.

  Sarah’s gaze followed the blood up the wall where a much larger blotch dripped down in streams. The terror that clamped hold of Sarah’s heart consumed Hanna. She could feel Sarah’s body tremble while her own body remained numb.

  Sarah slammed her shoulder against the door over and over again. Each time her shoulder hit the door, intense pain shot through Hanna. When that didn’t break the chain, she alternated kicking and banging the door with her fist until Sarah’s vision blurred and she clasped against the door sobbing and screaming Hanna’s name.