Worse Date Ever: Scandals, #3

By Kathy Clark

Tulsa Wiggins was abandoned on a doorstep by her mother. She has always been alone, whether trying to survive in a foster home or making her way in the world. Her talent for computer technology has made her an expert in cyber security, which is perfect for a person who doesn't know how to get along with others. 

When she's forced to move in with Cody, a super-hot fireman, Tulsa discovers how it feels to love and be loved. But he's a player who might also be a killer. 

Can she handle the challenge of falling in love while her heart is at risk and her life is in danger?

Praise for 
Worst Date Ever


"The story is fast paced, taking the reader along an increasingly dangerous road with threatening notes, car explosions, poisoned pizza and deadly snakes. Anyone who is deeply into technology will love this book. But it isn't necessary to understand the vocabulary of the sophisticated computer underground to enjoy the entertaining interplay among the characters or the ingenious complications of the plot." 
Blair McDowell

"The descriptions of the technical aspects of the hunt - Tulsa is an IT expert - were not hard to follow - thank you, author - and the revelation of the mastermind behind the cyber attacks and some rather nasty real ones was well told." Diana M. Hockley

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nightwriter93
• Release date: Jun 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781386993889

Kathy Clark

In 1987, Kathy Clark met Tahti Carter, an editor for Harlequin American at a writers' conference.  That started a six-year relationship that produced 12 award-winning novels for American and 2 more from Superromance.   For a complete list of books, screenplays, awards and more, go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kathy Clark_(American_author)

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

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I’ve always been alone.  Ever since my mother...and I use that term in its loosest form...abandoned me when I was a baby, I’ve been on my own.  A dozen or so foster families had provided me with food, clothes and shelter, but it was always clear that I didn’t belong.  After a while, I even convinced myself it didn’t matter.  Someday I’d be old enough to control my own destiny, and I would fucking succeed or die trying.

That someday is now, and I’m feeling pretty good about my prospects. Cautious, but good. 

I am only a few classes short of a BS degree in Computer Science.  I love working with computers.  Their processes are very black and white...predictable and reliable, you knew exactly what they were going to do.

One of my foster mothers had accused me of having OCD.  Yes, that was probably at least a little true.  But I saw it as being in control of my circumstances.  I wasn’t big on surprises.  So far, none of the surprises in my life had been good.

Well, except for the whole inheritance thing.  It wasn’t the money so much, although it was nice to not worry about how I was going to pay for next semester’s classes.  It was the whole family thing.  Getting used to having two brothers and two sisters that I never knew existed was quite a shocker.

I still didn’t know how to deal with the noise and drama.  We’d found out about each other a little over a month and a half ago.  Since then, we’d almost been blown up, poisoned and killed by a drug cartel.  Oh, and Killeen, one of my new sisters, had almost been raped by a college jock we set up in a sting.

Now everyone else was out celebrating another successful ending to a case, and I was here, all alone in the Scandals Investigations’ office, putting the audio and video equipment away.  I was responsible for making sure all the data we had gathered tonight was safely stored so it wouldn’t accidentally be destroyed.  It was important evidence against Dante, the sleaze-bag UT star quarterback that, in all probability, would put him in prison for five to ten.  An orange jumpsuit instead of an orange UT jersey and a Heisman Trophy...probably not how he thought his senior year would go.

Of course, once I started watching and listening to the recordings, the time got away from me.  Before I knew it, it was after three in the morning.  I yawned and decided it would be ridiculous for me to make the drive to our mansion at Lake Travis only to turn around and come back to the office at seven.  There was a comfortable couch in the break room that had probably provided many overnighters and looked pretty inviting.  There was even a pillow and a light blanket in the cupboard.  I switched off the lights and stretched out on the couch.

I heard a rustle in the hallway.  Was it a mouse?  Or a footstep? 

I wasn’t particularly afraid of mice, but I didn’t want someone sneaking up on me.  The building was supposed to be empty, but...?  I laid there a minute longer, and when I heard it again, I jumped up, turned the light on and leaned out into the hallway.

It was empty. 

My crazy imagination was working overtime.  This place was usually busy and bustling, and the quiet was a little creepy.  I double checked to see that the alarm was turned on and the front and warehouse doors were locked, then I returned to the break room.  But I left the light on in the reception area which provided enough illumination for me to check things out, but filtered down the hall enough to allow me to see anything nearby, but not so bright that it would keep me from sleeping.

I snuggled under the blanket again and ignored the creaks and groans of the empty building.  I had slept in much worse places under much more dangerous circumstances.  The thing I was most proud of was that I was a survivor.  I yawned again and felt my eyes drifting closed. 

Tulsa!  We were worried about you.  Liberty’s voice penetrated my dream and brought me immediately awake.

Liberty was only nineteen, the youngest of my new siblings.  She had grown up in a commune, without electricity or television or microwave popcorn.  It was like she was an alien, dropped into the twenty-first century.  There was an innocence and naiveté about her that would have annoyed the hell out of me before.  But her sweetness and eagerness to absorb everything made her endearing.

You slept here? she asked.

I got sidetracked with the video and didn’t want to drive home, I explained.  I stood up and stretched.  A glance at the clock told me I needed to freshen up because everyone else would be arriving soon.  Is there any coffee?

Pam made a pot, and there are donuts in the conference room.

Good, I need a cup.  I combed my fingers through my shaggy short black hair, pulling the sleep-flattened strands into tousled spikes.  Actually, it was dark brown, but I’d been dying it black for a couple of years, then adding streaks of bright color.  This month it was electric blue.  There wasn’t a vain bone in my body, but I’d always been a little sensitive about my looks.  Kids had made fun of me because my lips were too big, my blue eyes too far apart or my body too tall and skinny.  I had gradually grown into my features, but old wounds leave scars.

Liberty looked at me with raw admiration.  You know Tulsa?  You’re amazing. I want you to know how much I appreciate you helping me learn all about computers and the internet and stuff.  I can’t believe how much is out there.

I snorted.  You have no idea.  I smoothed the wrinkles out of my vintage Grateful Dead t-shirt.  Did you all ride in together?

I rode in with Dallas.  Christopher and Killeen came in together...like always.

And Reno?

Dallas said he and Jenny disappeared last night after the frat party.  Her eyes widened in concern.  Do you think it’s a Witness Protection thing?  Do you think they took him away?

I think it’s a horny dude thing, I told her.  Jenny opted out of WITSEC so she could be with Reno.  I heard them say they wanted some privacy, so I think they went to a hotel downtown.

Privacy!  The mansion has over eight thousand square feet.  He and Jenny couldn’t find a place to be alone there?

I gave her an amused look.  Have you had a moment’s privacy since this whole Roger inheritance thing began?

Liberty considered that for a second, then smiled.  No, but I’m okay with that.  I’m used to having people around all the time.  Mom and I had a two-bedroom home, and we had as many as fifteen people living there at one time.

I could sort of relate to that.  It had been difficult to have any shred of privacy when I was farmed out to a foster family.  Often there had been four or five of us to a bedroom.  More kids...bigger checks for the foster parents.  It was all about the money.  No one gave a shit about the kids.

Oh gosh, Reno was so brave, Liberty gushed.  He risked his life to rescue Jenny’s sister.  He deserves a reward.

After a quick stop at the restroom, I headed to the conference room.  Liberty was already there.  She handed me a black mug emblazoned with the Scandals logo in red.  I eagerly filled it with the rich dark liquid that would send desperately needed wake-up signals to my brain. 

Christopher and Killeen entered the room and headed straight for the coffee bar. 

Hey all...morning! Killeen called out.

On that memorable day in June when the details of Roger Elliott’s will had been conveyed to us and we all met each other for the first time, Christopher had struck me as kind of a cold fish.  Oh, he had been professional, incredibly knowledgeable about the business and helpful.  It wasn’t that he’d been unfriendly, but more like he didn’t have time for us rookies.  That all changed when he and Killeen started hooking up.  Now he was relaxed and laughed a lot.  She had definitely brought the sunshine into his life.

I looked at Killeen with amazement that any creature could be that beautiful and that nice, all at the same time.  She had been going to ASU on a full-ride softball scholarship, but got knocked up by a rich asshole who left her as soon as he graduated and found out about the baby.  The last I heard, she was still undecided about whether or not she was going to keep the kid.  But Christopher had made it clear he would support her choice, either way.  They made a gorgeous couple, she, with long golden blond hair and a killer body and he, so tall, dark and handsome.  I had to admit that they made it look easy...and comfortable...and wonderful.  I couldn’t imagine ever falling in love like that.  It would take a lot for me to ever trust a man with my heart.

Everyone exchanged sleepy greetings as they each took a chair at the table and passed around the box of donuts.  It had been a late night for all of us, and we were slow to get it started this morning.

Where’s Reno?  Anyone know? Christopher asked.

The question was just out of his mouth when Reno charged into the conference room, out of breath and a cup of McDonald’s coffee in his hand.  Sorry...I had to stay with Jenny last night.  He spun the chair around, slid into the seat and opened his tall cup of coffee, all in one smooth motion.

"Had to, huh? Christopher echoed sarcastically.  Poor girl clearly can’t make it on her own."

Reno’s lips stretched into an easy smile.  He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.  Trust me...it was life or death.  He looked around the room.  I haven’t sat in this chair before.  I see we’re on our new plan to break old habits.  Great!

Reno was always pushing us to change things up.  He claimed ditching old habits would allow us to see the other side of issues we couldn’t see otherwise.  I felt like he was picking on me since I was a true creature of habit.  All of us IT geeks are.  It came with the territory of repetitious, detail-oriented, mechanical work.

How’d she do her first night without her sister?  Dallas asked.

It’s rough, but at least she knows her sister is safe and happy.  Jenny insisted on going back to work at the pre-school.  I was going to ask if she could move into the mansion for a while, you know...until she gets her feet back on the ground and the nightmares of the cartel breaking into her apartment stop.

Non-billable hours, I assume? Dallas asked, only partly joking.

Listen...Uncle Sam’s reward covered this place for a year...so big deal...not billable, Reno pointed out.  What did I miss?

Nothing yet, Christopher said.  I wanted us to talk through last night.  It was the first real job that we all worked on together.

If you don’t count nailing the guy that killed our father, Liberty pointed out.

That was personal.  Christopher frowned.

We all thought back to that harrowing experience.  We had had no idea what we were getting ourselves into until we narrowly missed being killed.  But through it all, we’d figured out how to work together and got to know each other in the process.  

A loud metal-on-metal crash echoed down the hall and shook the building.  What sounded like a racing motorcycle engine revved, then died and we heard Pam scream.  After the last explosion at the Scandals’ office nearly killed Killeen and Liberty, we were all a little gun shy.  We exchanged confused and questioning looks, then jumped to our feet and ran to the lobby with poor Liberty hobbling along behind on her crutches.

The door is stuck! Pam yelled as she leaned against it with all her weight, which wasn’t much.

Christopher, Reno and Dallas ran to help her.  Christopher and Dallas braced their backs against the door and pushed backward while Reno tried to figure out where it was being wedged shut.  This new, heavy gauge steel door was supposed to protect us after the last bombing.  Actually, it appeared the door had suffered little damage.  It was the twisted hinges and jammed locks that were blocking our exit.

Looks like something rammed into the bottom.  Let’s try pushing on the side opposite the hinge, Reno suggested.

I’ll take the bottom, Dallas get the center and Reno the upper corner, Christopher ordered, and they took their assigned positions.  Ready?  One...two...three!  They groaned and grunted and slowly the door creaked its way open. 

Reno stuck his head outside.  Shit!  He pulled his head back in.  A little more at the bottom mainly.  Someone planted their Harley in the door.  Let’s do this!

All three pushed the lower half of the door, and I could hear the sound of metal screeching across the pavement.  That’s it!  Reno, Dallas and Christopher squeezed through the small opening, one after the other.

I was right behind them and once outside, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. 

Crap, that Harley is destroyed, Reno exclaimed.

Michael? Christopher asked the man who was trying to stand.  His expensive designer jeans were shredded, although it was difficult to say what was factory issue and what had been torn by sliding across the concrete.  His helmet was still spinning against the front of the building, apparently having been ripped off his head.  A tuft of his black hair still clung to the inside of the bright orange headgear.

You’ve got to help me! Michael screamed in desperation, turning to look over his shoulder with terrified eyes.

What’s going on, man? Christopher asked.

In the distance the sounds of police sirens were getting closer.

Michael staggered toward us.  I swear...I didn’t kill her!

CHAPTER TWO

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Reno, can you and Dallas get his bike into the employee lot around back?  Killeen...Tulsa help me get Michael into the conference room.  Pam, bring the first aid kit.  Christopher took charge, and everyone scrambled to obey. 

Dallas and Reno pulled the crippled, crumpled Harley to an upright position and muscled it in a sort of crab-walk toward the side driveway that led to the back of the building.  Both of its tires were flat and the handlebars were bent at an awkward angle, making forward movement difficult.

Christopher held the door open as much as possible as I practically pushed Michael through the small space.  As soon as we were on the other side, I looped my arm around his waist to steady him and, with Christopher on the man’s other side, we guided him across the lobby and down the hallway to the conference room. 

We eased him slowly onto a chair.  He was clearly very shaken up.  Blood was running down his cheek and all the skin had been stripped from his left arm, so it, too, was oozing blood.

There were footsteps running from the back and soon Reno and Dallas joined us in the conference room, having parked what was left of the Harley behind the barrier of the six-foot tall brick wall that protected our back lot from prying eyes.  No one can see it unless they fly over, Dallas reported.

Thanks guys, Christopher said as he studied Michael.

Pam ran into the conference room with the first aid kit.  She set it on the table next to Liberty who immediately opened it and began digging through its contents.  I’ve got the maintenance guy on speed dial...this door lasted over a month.  Pam disappeared around the corner as she returned to her desk to get the door replacement underway.

Do you know what you’re doing Liberty?  I asked.

I worked with the guy who provided all the medical treatment on the farm.  He was a retired veterinarian, but he could handle almost anything.  She shook her head and grimaced.  I was his helper, but I never set bones or did stitches...which I think you’re going to need for that cut on your cheek.

I can’t go to the hospital right now.  They’ll arrest me, Michael protested. 

We, at least, have to clean it or it’s going to get infected, Liberty told him as she took out a brown bottle and some cotton balls from the kit.

Great...do whatever you need to do, Michael struggled to speak.  I can’t breathe!

Probably some broken ribs, but it’s a good sign that you’re not spitting up blood.

Liberty poured hydrogen peroxide on a large cotton ball and gently dabbed the area around the deep cut on his cheek.  I used to take care of boo boos on The Farm...this is going to burn a little, she warned as she moistened another cotton ball and touched the open wound.

Fuck...! Michael yelled, and his head jerked back.

Liberty flinched and pulled back.  You really need to get to the emergency room and have them irrigate these abrasions.  There’s some gravel buried in there that I can’t get out.

Let us take you to the hospital, Michael, Christopher tried to persuade him with a balance of empathy and authority.  We’re talking about your face, dude.  You don’t want to look bad for the cameras.

Michael grimaced, but he shook his head emphatically.

No...no way.  I gotta tell you what happened before they arrest me.

Arrest you?  What for?  Christopher asked.

Killing my girlfriend.

You have a girlfriend?  Christopher was more shocked by that fact than by Michael being accused of killing her.  When did you get a girlfriend?

About three years ago.  Nobody knew...well, now the cops know...and you guys...and the whole world will know once this hits the news.

There’s a body?

At my lake house.

Down the street from our house?  Christopher asked.

The same.

Get Michael some water, Christopher called over his shoulder.  Since I was closest to the mini-fridge, I took a bottle out and handed it to the man who gratefully twisted off the cap and took a big drink.

So...what happened?

I had a houseful of bankers and investors over Saturday.  I’m trying to do an IPO on the agency.  Anyway, I went back to my condo Saturday night after they all left.  Tamara...my girlfriend couldn’t make it.  I didn’t really think anything of it because her mother has been going through chemo, so she’s been spending a lot of time with her.  Then on Sunday afternoon...

Yesterday?  Christopher clarified the time line.

Yes, yesterday, the phone rang and it was a Lakeway police detective...  He frowned.  I think his name was Conrad or Cooper or something like that.  The police were at my lake house and Tamara was found dead out by the pool.

But you said she wasn’t at your lake house.

Not for the meeting, but she came out later.  Apparently, there was a text message from me on her phone.  It said I wanted to meet her there because I wanted to break up.

You broke up through a text?  Even Reno was offended by that.  Come on dude, that warrants a phone call, at least.

You do that shit in person, Killeen added her voice to the conversation.

I never sent her the text! Michael cried out indignantly.  The last thing I wanted to do was break up with her.  I was planning on asking her to marry me.

Then why did you send her a message? Dallas asked.

I didn’t.  His pained expression was replaced by sincere confusion.  I have no idea how it showed up on her phone as coming from me. 

Did anyone else have access to your phone? Killeen asked.

No, it was in my pocket during the meeting, then I plugged it in next to my bed because I was expecting Tamara to call me.

Y’all don’t live together? Christopher had been making notes, and now he looked up expectantly.

Not officially.  She has her own apartment.  He shrugged.  It’s in the same building as mine.  We were very careful to not be seen together too often, but most nights we were able to be together without it becoming public knowledge.

Apparently, someone knew, Dallas pointed out.

Someone who had access to your phone, Christopher added, still not able to get past that piece of damning evidence.

Spoof, I announced. 

Spoof?  Michael and Christopher echoed in unison.

Someone broke into an SMS provider and manipulated the sending phone number to be yours instead of the person who actually sent it, I explained.

SMS?  Michael asked.

Short Message Service...it’s how text messages are sent.  This was a subject I was familiar with.

Is it hard to do? Christopher inquired.

It’s not easy, but my computer class in high school figured it out.  Of course, the phone companies have been trying to block it, but there are always work-arounds. All eyes were on me, which made me a little nervous.  I wasn’t used to being the center of attention.  Can I see it?

What? Michael asked.

Your phone?

Michael checked his pockets and groaned.  Two cops stopped by my office to talk to me, but I could tell by their questions that I was the number one suspect and about to get arrested, so I told them I had to go to the bathroom.  I escaped out the back door, but I forgot my phone.  I’m sure they have it by now.

I was disappointed to hear that.  I could have discovered so much if I could look at his phone.  Did your phone show a message had been sent?

Michael swallowed hard.  Yes, it did.

Someone can force a spy app onto your cell phone, then send and receive text messages as if they were coming from or being received by your phone.

Really?  Michael was horrified.

Yep, I confirmed. 

But why didn’t I notice?

You wouldn’t unless you checked your old messages.

But can’t they track where it originated? he asked.

Not easily.  It pings the cell towers where you’re actually located.  And they can put a subroutine in the app that automatically deletes it after a certain period of time so there’s no trail.

Shit!  I’m screwed.  Michael collapsed back against his chair.

I need to get my hands on that phone...there are ways to bring back deleted files, I told him.  Do the cops have it?

Yes, they took it when they came by my apartment to tell me about...  He choked up and dropped his head before finishing with a whisper, ...Tamara.

Can they prove you were home all night?  Did they find the murder weapon?  Is there a motive? Christopher peppered Michael with questions.

Michael shook his head.  After my advisers left, I went home, grilled a steak and watched a movie.  They didn’t mention a weapon.  He frowned.  I don’t even know how she died.  They didn’t tell me.  And as for a motive...I certainly didn’t have a reason to kill her.  She was the love of my life.

Had she pissed off someone else enough for them to want her dead? I asked bluntly.

Again, he shook his head.  Not that I know of.  She got along with everyone.  My God, she was a hospice nurse.  People loved her.

There were a few moments of silence as we all processed what we had heard.

I guess the next question would be...who have you pissed off? I dared to ask.  It seemed the most logical next assumption.

Michael snorted.  I’m in the business of making people happy...not angry.

What is that? Killeen asked.

"I opened the Linked dating site about six years ago.  You’ve probably heard our logline...It’s time you found the love of your life."

Killeen nodded.  I heard about that at ASU.  You own it?  It must be worth a fortune.

I’ve done okay, Michael answered modestly.

Dallas joined in.  One of my friends hooked up with someone through your site.  They’re getting married next month.

"Like our ads and TV spots say Connect with anyone, anywhere at any time.  Michael’s already pale face blanched even whiter.  I guess I can kiss that all goodbye. Even if I don’t get fried in the electric