Chapter One

Washington, D.C., 2006

There was no way the contraption would eat Twila Deeds. She stared at her deceased brother, Danny’s, monstrous computer, Jaws. Every kind of gizmo was plugged into the behemoth.

What an inheritance, she thought. The eighteen-year-old kid had vanished six months ago. The government had written him off as dead, or rather, the FBI had sworn Danny’s disappearance had nothing to do with his youthful lust for computer hacking. They bequeathed Jaws to her as proof Danny wasn’t under investigation at the time of his vanishing. Just what every girl needs: A psycho computer that could test the limits of anyone’s sanity. Now, what to do with the unruly beast? Soothe the demon. "I’d like to say a prayer for Danny."

The tower’s "on" button flickered red.

Red for blood.

A chill tickled the hairs on her arms to icy attention.

Danny has to be dead. Danny can’t be dead. Maybe Jaws knew where he was. She pushed the button.

The computer hummed to life. A blue spiral swirled into a five-pointed star set inside a circle on the monitor’s black background.

Why had Danny gotten into this hocus-pocus witchcraft mess?

Turning Jaws on isn’t wise. She knew the FBI was lurking. They always waited for Danny to attempt something stupid, or brilliant. But she was one-hundred percent dumb. "Save my little brat brother, world, and let Jaws chomp the heck out of anyone holding him hostage. Jaws can set you free, Danny."

Rectangular icons lined up in one of Danny’s weird Tarot-card layouts across the star symbol.

The Celtic cross. She’d seen him play with the cards enough to recognize the spread. "Lord. What was Danny up to?" Weird stuff. Time to turn Jaws off. She selected the off choice.

Jaws’ screen went black.

Dead. How ironic.

The monitor’s pentagram flickered back on.

"No. I’m finished, Jaws."

The Tarot cards popped back over the symbol.

"What now?" She tried to turn the computer off again.

The sun’s rays radiated on one card. A star spun in another. Symbols moved here and there within the boundaries of the cards.

"Why Tarot, Danny?" Only fools asked. She spotted The Fool card in the spread. Coincidence? Or more irony? But Danny could have struck gold here. Maybe Jaws would reveal her future with these cards. She clicked on the card.

The screen went black.

"I’m waiting, Jaws." Why did her life always seem to go this way? Life gave her nothing. She always ended up waiting what seemed like forever. For nothing. Studying literature hadn’t panned out. Who wanted to teach a high-school room full of Dannys? Dealing with one had been a chore. Even now, she waited for acceptance into a Masters program to get the appropriate credentials to teach at a junior college. A wise girl would have applied to easy-entry local universities. She must have lost her mind with her parents’ death. She applied to two prestigious programs thousands of miles away. Like she could ever dream of getting into Oxford. So much for recovery from denial after her parents’ funeral…and now Danny was missing. "I’m still waiting, Jaws."

A knock rattled down the hallway.

The front door. She slapped the monitor. "Not the Feds. I told you I wanted Danny." She shoved out of the office chair and plowed into the dark hallway.

A distorted person’s fuzzy silhouette waited beyond the front door’s upper rectangle of frosted glass.

Avoidance was impossible. The FBI knew someone was using Jaws. But why the interest in Tarot? There was no way around opening the door. Hopefully, Agent Javier Ramirez was waiting. The man was sexy. So enticing, she’d waited for the two years Danny was under observation for him to ask her on a date. She absolutely had to stop waiting for anything. She pulled the door open.

Now for the interrogation. "I’m sorry—"

She looked up, way up; into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Crisp winter air swept the clean scent of frost through her house.

Did she smell cinnamon?

"There’s no need to apologize." The man tucked black sunglasses inside his black leather jacket.

His accent wasn’t Hispanic. More like British. He wore street clothes consisting of a white T-shirt, faded blue jeans, and black combat boots. Nice.

"I have news of Danny." His palms landed upon his hips.

She peered beyond the black leather of his upper arm to his sparkling black motorcycle parked on the driveway and met his gaze. "You a Fed?"

He shot her a charming smile.

Always the good-looking guys. The FBI knew how to rattle her. She’d never get a date if they didn’t send the polite guy she wanted though; and Valentine’s Day was but two weeks away. "I wish they would just send Agent Ramirez. You guys confuse me with your different approaches to investigation. But that’s your strategy, right?" She backed away, waving toward the blue-and-green plaid couch.

"Would you like to see my badge?" He hovered in the doorway.

He was polite. Yet, delays kept Agent Ramirez away. She waved again. "Just have a seat. I can make some coffee."

He descended onto her sofa and crossed one long leg over the other as if he had always been a permanent fixture in her parents’ living room. "Sure." His gaze almost cut her in two.

Rather, stripped her shirt off. His black moustache and wavy black hair made his eyes glow an ethereal hue. He was handsome. Maybe he had Ramirez’s patience. "I’ll be right back."

"No problem," Gerard Abercrombie said from where he sank onto the soft couch. Gaining entry to the lad’s house certainly was too easy. Now, Danny’s sister just offered him coffee. A scone and clotted cream would go nicely with the steaming brew, but Yanks ruined scones with bits of herbs and spices.

The water trilled in the kitchen beyond the granite bar where the lass worked.

"What’s up with that computer?" Twila called. "I couldn’t turn it off. Why don’t you guys take the beast for posterity? Open a FBI museum with confiscated items. Jaws would be your star gizmo."

That the machine would. But the FBI was unaware of his visit. "Couldn’t turn it off, eh? Shall I try?" He gulped down a chuckle.

"Anyone else would undoubtedly be successful. Computers are nothing more than word processors to me, and Jaws has a mind of his own."

Really? "I can have him decommissioned if you like."

The savory aroma of roasted coffee beans wafted the beautiful Twila back into the room. She strode to the blue armchair and claimed a seat, crossing her legs like a matron.