The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

I jerk my head up to find him staring a hole through me. His nostrils are flaring like he smells something distasteful.

My heart pounds harder. Did I say something out loud?

“I sense your agitation. What did you find in the code? Do you know who did it?”

Jesus, he senses my agitation? No wonder this man built a multi-billion dollar company out of nothing but a laptop. And I’d always thought he was socially stunted. Maybe he stays away from people because he can read them all too well, and they bore him.

My mind races for something to give him. “I-I think I was set up.”

His lip lifts with scorn. “I thought we knew that part.”

“I mean from the inside. How did I get this job? A headhunter called me out of the blue. I never saw it posted anywhere. Never applied to SeCure.”

Jackson pales, and I swear his eyes change to blue again. He stands up with a grim expression. “I’ll be right back.” He walks out the door, shutting it behind him.

I count to five, steadying my breath. Then I walk swiftly to Jackson’s desk and sit in his seat.

I learned in my heist days to disconnect fear when on a job. Time was always of the essence, and, if you lost your head, the job was as good as over. I learned to dive into a black hole of concentration. I focus on nothing but the task at hand. That’s the headspace I find now, my vision narrowing to the prompts on the screen as I sift through login screens to pull Jackson’s password. I find twenty, with no discernable pattern. He must have a different one for every login. Smart man.

I work to get through the firewall and into the infosec code. I do not allow myself to think of what will happen if Jackson comes back before I’ve succeeded. Or if I can’t get in. Or if they don’t let Meme go.

I only see the characters on a screen. A puzzle to solve.

Sixteen minutes later, I’m in.

No time to celebrate. I grab the thumb drive and insert it into his port.

I’m sorry, Jackson. I’m so fucking sorry.

It auto-launches, code unfolding before my eyes with lightning speed.

I get up from his chair, pick up my things, and walk swiftly out. I don’t acknowledge his secretary. I travel down the hall, like I’m headed for the bathroom, and slip into the stairwell.

Eight stories. Then a parking lot, and I’ll be in my car.

Except I already know I’ve been had. They’re not letting Meme go. How could they frame me if an old lady is telling a story about being kidnapped?

So I just committed another felony act and destroyed the only company I’ve ever admired for nothing.

Worse-I’ve destroyed whatever I had going with Jackson King. And that… that almost hurts as much as the thought of Meme being dead.

~.~

Jackson

The way I see it, this attack had to come from someone in my infosec department.

Unfortunately, that narrows it down to 517 people, located all over the world. Only 137 of them are in this building. But I can start with Luis, my CSO, and Human Resources, to get some answers about Kylie’s hire.

I head straight to Luis’ office and barge in without knocking. He’s on the phone, with his wife, probably, because I can hear the female voice on the line, telling some long, drawn-out story.

Luis sits up straight, giving me an attentive look as he tries to interrupt the monologue. “I’m sorry, honey. Mr. King just stepped into my office.”

“Oh! Okay, call me later,” she says quickly.

“Yep.” He hangs up and gives me a sheepish look. “My wife is all worked up about getting our kid into the school talent show.”

I have to hand it to Luis. After all these years of me stonewalling all personal discussion, he still makes the attempt. It’s like he wants me to remember he has a family and is human, so I don’t ask too much of him.

Not that it ever stops me.

“What did you find out about the new hire in infosec?” I ask.

Luis’ brow wrinkles. “Kylie McDaniel? What do you mean?”

“I asked you to look into where we found her. Who vetted her? How long was this position open?”

“We always have open positions. You asked me to double our infosec team three years ago, and I’ve been working on it. It’s hard to find new hires. It takes an average of three months to fill a position.”

“And this position was posted?”

“It’s not posted, no. We use a headhunter. It mitigates wasted time sifting through unqualified applicants. She’s been actively searching for candidates for the last year.”

“And how did she find Kylie?”

Luis shrugs. “I’m sorry. I haven’t looked into it. It’s well known the hacker boards are tapped for these jobs. It makes sense to hire from the pool of those who truly understand what we deal with. We make special exceptions for candidates like Kylie. For example, the official job requirements demand twenty to twenty-five years in the field. But her demonstrated skills, based on the test Stu administered, are used in lieu of the years of experience.”

It all makes perfect sense and even sounds plausible. But, Kylie was right. It was too much of a coincidence that she was sent the blackmail note immediately after starting with SeCure. If the hackers were looking for an in, it would have taken them longer than a few days to identify and get the dirt on each employee.

This looked like a first-class frame to me.

“I’d like the name and number of the headhunter.”

“Is something wrong, sir? I thought you liked the girl, despite her cheekiness.”

“It doesn’t matter whether I like her or not. I want to know more about the headhunting practices used to fill the most sensitive positions at my company,” I snap, using my most authoritative voice.

Luis instantly puts on his calm, placating face. “Of course, sir. I understand. I will call HR right now and get you the information.” He picks up his phone.

“Never mind,” I say. “I’ll go there myself.” I need to see people’s eyes, be close enough to smell their fear when I interrogate them. I head out, striding purposefully to the elevator and ride down to the fourth floor to see the director of HR.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I get no further with her, other than receiving the name and number of the headhunter.

By this time, my wolf is scratching at the surface, telling me something about Kylie. I’m itchy to see her. Needy almost.

Damn. Is it possible for a shifter’s true mate to be human? Because there’s no other explanation for the way I feel.

Unless it’s just my instinct warning about her potential danger to me.

With that thought, I take the stairs two at a time back to my office, unwilling to stand quietly in an elevator. Her scent is everywhere, filling my nose as if she’s in the stairwell with me.

I get to my office and fling open the door.

My computer is open, and a program is scrolling quickly over the screen.

Oh shit.

My heart chokes me, stuck somewhere between my collarbone and my throat. My palms go clammy; my vision tunnels with rage.

Tell me it’s not what I think it is. Tell me-

Fuck!

With a roar, I pick up my laptop and throw it against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces.

“Mr. King!” Vanessa runs into the office.

“How long ago did she leave?” I’m surprised how calm I sound.

“Oh! Um… about ten minutes, sir. Why? What happened? Sir? Is something wrong?”

I ignore her and run past Vanessa.

The stairwell.

The fucking stairwell. No wonder I thought I smelled her in it. That’s how she got away.