Follow Me (Corrupted Hearts) by Tiffany Snow Page A

racked my brain for an excuse.
    “I don’t have a security clearance,” I said. “There’s no way—”
    “Already taken care of,” he interrupted, shooting down the only objection I could think of. “They cleared you a few minutes ago. As far as they and I are concerned, the sooner you start, the better. The deadline on this project is in two weeks.”
    Two weeks? I was supposed to walk in cold, wrap my arms around a project I knew nothing about, and deliver it in two weeks?
    “That’s . . . a really tight timeframe,” I said.
    “I know, which is why I’ll be helping, too.”
    Okay, that made me feel better. I’d been an on-site consultant before, though a lot of Cysnet’s projects were done in-house. It was still like starting a new job, which was incredibly stressful.
    “So when do we start?”
    “Let’s plan on heading over there this afternoon,” Jackson said. “You can ride along with me, if you like.”
    Ride in his awesome Cabriolet convertible again? Twist my arm.
    “Sounds like a plan,” I said cheerily.
    “Okay. Come by about one and we’ll go.”
    I nodded and took that as my dismissal. A few minutes later, I was back at my desk and Randall wanted to quiz me.
    “So what’s going on?” he asked, popping his head over the cube wall. “You’ve been in Jackson’s office a lot. You in trouble or something?”
    IT people were as nosey and as big gossips as anyone else, perhaps more so because interaction with actual people wasn’t very common. Anything out of the ordinary stirred their interest, especially if it didn’t involve themselves.
    “He and I are working on a project together,” I explained.
    “You’re working with Jackson? That is so awesome!” Randall’s enthusiasm made me smile. “I’ve never gotten to. Jeremy has though, and he never stops bragging about it.”
    “Weren’t there like ten people on that project?”
    “I know, right?” he scoffed. “Like it even counts. How many people are on your project?”
    “Just him and me.”
    He emitted a low whistle. “No way. Wow.”
    “Gotta get back to work, Randall. Thanks for breakfast. I’ll spot lunch. Taco Bell?”
    “Yep. The usual.”
    I nodded and he disappeared back down into his cube as I settled into my chair.

    Wyndemere was in Research Triangle Park—RTI—as opposed to downtown where Cysnet was located. They owned a sprawling two-story building that took up acres of land, most of it hidden behind a thick growth of trees that surrounded the property.
    It took the better part of two hours to get our temporary IDs, set up our fingerprint, voice, and retinal scans for security, and go through and sign paperwork that detailed the fine print of their nondisclosure agreement. Finally, we were taken to a small conference room where a woman was waiting for us.
    “Hello, I’m Freyda,” she said, rising to greet us. “Freyda Jain. I interface between Wyndemere and the customer, be it government, foreign, or domestic contracts.”
    “Jackson Cooper, and this is China Mack.” Not even the great Jackson Cooper attempted to pronounce my last name.
    We shook hands all around.
    “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said. “Please have a seat.”
    Jackson and I took adjacent seats next to Freyda and she set identical file folders in front of us, about an inch thick.
    “This should help bring you up to speed. You can look over it here, but all materials must remain on-site at all times.”
    “Understood.”
    “Your team.” Another folder, thinner this time, one to each of us. “You’ll meet with them tomorrow morning. I thought you could use some time to acclimate first.”
    I glanced at my watch. An hour before quitting time. Thanks heaps.
    “The project cost estimate is just that—an estimate,” Jackson said. “Real hours will be billed, not to exceed twenty percent of the original estimated cost without written approval.”
    “Agreed,” she said. “Any other