“Cami, spit it out. What’s this about?”
She huffed out a breath and wiped her fingers under her eyes as though she was well aware that she had makeup smeared there. “Please, can I just come inside and explain? You have every right to turn me away again, and I’d understand if you do, just ... please, if you would hear me out.”
He should tell her to go. Only negativity had resulted from being in the vicinity of Cami, but call him a sucker, he couldn’t help it. She looked desperate, and though he didn’t want to admit it—as it honestly fucked up his ego just a little—he still had a soft spot for her. Of all the things he’d grown out of or overcome, her effect on him apparently wasn’t one of them. He stepped aside and allowed her to enter. She did, walking inside uncertainly, not seeming to know where to stand.
“Here, follow me,” he murmured. He’d cleared a lot of the junk out of the front room, but his bedding was on the couch, and the chairs were being used to hold boxes and other things he hadn’t gone through, and there was nowhere to sit. He led her into the kitchen, the roomhe’d tackled first, and though it also was far from tidy, it was clean now, and the table was clear. “Go ahead and have a seat,” he murmured. She looked like she could use it.
Cami sat down and laced her fingers on the surface in front of her while he leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms. “You don’t want to sit?” she asked, nodding over to the chair across from her.
“No. I prefer to stand.”
“Okay.” Her gaze darted around the kitchen, and she unlaced her fingers and then laced them again before shoving them under her thighs.
Jesus.He took a few steps to the coffee machine and removed a mug from the cabinet above it and poured a cup, then he set it down in front of her. “I don’t have any cream or sugar, sorry.” But he could not watch her fidget anymore.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” She wrapped her hands around the warm mug and seemed to relax a little.
“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what you need.”
She nodded. “You work with computers, right? In the military? I thought I heard that you did ... I can’t remember where. Cyber-related work? Is that right?”
He regarded her, still so beautiful despite looking like she’d pulled an all-nighter. This better not be what he feared. He was starting to wonder if this woman was going to ask him to hack a cheating boyfriend’s credit card statement or something equally selfish that he wouldn’t forgive her for.
Not that there’d be any love lost on his end. He’d spent a long time internally withholding grace. At least that’s what he told himself. He kicked one foot over the other and crossed his arms again. “Yes.”
Cami gave another jerky nod. “Like you hack computers and stuff?”
Here it comes.“Not exactly. But close enough.”
“Oh. Close enough. Okay, well do you know anything about Tor?”
His brow dipped.Oh no.Maybe this was even worse than he thought. “The dark web? Tor is one of the browsers you use to access it.”
“Yes. Exactly. Is it traceable? How does it work?”
He uncrossed his arms and rubbed his jaw. She wanted the basics of how the dark web worked? She probably could have researched that on the internet, so if she was here, he was pretty certain she didn’tonlywant that. “The Tor browser hides your footprint by routing it through a series of decentralized nodes.”
She gave a small huff of laughter. “That clears absolutely nothing up.”
He couldn’t help the quirk of his lip. “Tor is an acronym for The Onion Router. Basically, this router uses several layers of encryption and routing mechanisms to ensure complete anonymity.”
“So it’s not traceable at all? Even by law enforcement or by ... a hacker?”
“No. It was actually developed in the nineties by US intelligence to ensure their communications and online activities couldn’t be traced.”
She took in a breath and blew it out slowly. “So then—”
“Cami, I’m sorry, but before I answer any more questions, you need to explain to me what this is about.”
Cami unwrapped one hand from around the mug and drummed her fingers on the table. Then she stood up and paced one way, blew out a breath, and then paced in the other direction before turning toward him. He noticed she was wearing two different shoes. She was obviously exhausted, and he felt a completely unwanted grip of protectiveness. He wanted to offer her a soft place to lie down ... a blanket. He pushed those thoughts aside. But then when he met her eyes, he saw the vulnerability there and that protectiveness rose again, unbothered by his violent dismissal. “I had a baby. You ... you know that.”
That moment in the grocery store slammed into his memory, the buzz of the overhead lights, the coppery scent of change on his fingers, the way his heart had gaped open when he’d seen her swollen stomach and the helpless look in her eyes. Kind of like now. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I know.”
“I put him up for adoption.”
Oh. Damn.He felt a sharp pang of sympathy. And deep understanding. She’d gotten pregnant during a horrible crime, and she’d birthed her attacker’s baby, but she hadn’t kept him. And who could blame her for that?
She sat back down, looking even more defeated. And suddenly he felt like he needed to take a seat too. So, he went to the table and pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “What you’re here about, does it involve the child you put up for adoption?” Was she looking for him? Did she think the dark web would provide her answers somehow?
