Hacker Salvation: White Hat Security, Book 7 Read online

  Hacker Salvation

  White Hat Security, Book 7

  Linzi Baxter

  The Dragon’s Psychic

  Immortal Dragon, Book 1

  Copyright © 2019 by Linzi Baxter

  Cover Artist: Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs

  Cover Model: Roddy

  Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Edited by: Red Adept Editing

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without permission of the author.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  1. Annabella

  2. John

  3. Annabella

  4. John

  5. Annabella

  6. John

  7. Annabella

  8. John

  9. Annabella

  10. John

  11. Annabella

  12. John

  13. Annabella

  14. Annabella

  15. John

  16. Annabella

  17. John

  18. John

  19. John

  20. John

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  About Author

  Blurb

  A marriage of convenience…

  Annabella is tired of being used. Used as an A-list arm ornament. Used for her fame and her money. When she’s done filming her latest movie, she plans to play the ultimate acting role—a marriage in name only. It’s not love, but at least she’ll have peace.

  Those plans come to a shrieking halt when she finds her home stained with blood, her fiancé missing—and a police officer reading her Miranda rights. The rescuer who walks into the station isn’t her friend Daisy, but a six-foot-four, mouthwatering wall of muscle who rivets her gaze.

  An attraction deeper than blood and bone…

  One look at Annabella’s vulnerable, tear-streaked face, and John Waters wants nothing more than to clear a path for her. Through a sea of reporters to a waiting car. Through any danger to safety. Through her tangled emotions, straight to his arms.

  In what universe is a broken, ex-Navy SEAL in the same league with silver-screen perfection? He should be slamming the brakes on his desire, right effing now. But to keep her safe from mounting danger, he has to keep her close. And that’s the biggest danger of all—to his heart.

  1

  Annabella

  “Ma’am, put down the knife.”

  I looked up from the bloody knife in my hands to see a Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputy standing at the entrance to Nate’s bathroom. The man wore the typical law-enforcement uniform of a tan button-down shirt and green pants. His aviator glasses sat on top of his short, spiky blond hair. He rested his hand on the butt of the gun in his holster.

  This might be bad. Really bad.

  I shut my eyes and hoped he was a figment of my imagination. When I opened my eyes again, he was still there in my house. “Why are you in my house?” I asked quickly. “I never heard the doorbell ring. Why did you let yourself in?”

  My eyes darted to where the deputy tapped his finger on the top of his gun. “Your housekeeper let us in. Now please put down the knife and step back from the crime scene.”

  The words “crime scene” slowly sank in as my eyes took a second look around the bathroom. Needing to explain more, I stepped forward without putting the knife down.

  The deputy drew his gun from his belt. “You need to put the weapon down.”

  When I’d gotten home last night, I had been exhausted from working a thirteen-hour day on the set of Last Love, my latest film. Nate and I had gotten into an argument over him not helping with the wedding plans. His breath had smelled like alcohol, and his clothes had smelled like another man’s cologne. Earlier in the day, Nate had sent me a text, saying he’d gotten an email with our results and couldn’t wait to show me mine. I’d rushed home after work to find him not home yet. We’d made plans to look at our 23andMe reports. Nate had told me he was going to print off the results so we could look at them over a glass of wine. I didn’t know much about my father’s side, so I chose to leave my name public when I filled out the documents. I couldn’t wait to find out if I had family I didn’t know about. Most people would look at the results online, but Nate and I wanted to read ours together, so he was supposed to bring them both home tonight for us to look at. Instead, he’d chosen to ditch me to go out to the bar. I’d gone to bed, and he’d left. This morning after I’d woken up, I noticed he hadn’t come back.

  Nate and I had been friends since grade school. We’d stayed close even though he had gone to Harvard Law School and I had pursued acting at Stella Adler Academy of Acting and Theatre. Still, we’d always made time for each other. Ever since we were little, I’d known he was gay.

  His family, on the other hand, had a different idea for him. He was to marry the daughter of another successful family to help grow his parents’ business. They owned a law firm. Last year, Nate had refused to marry who they wanted, and he’d told them he was gay. Two days later, he came home with a broken arm and a black eye. When I asked what had happened, he just asked if I would marry him.

  Over the years, I’d gotten sick of men using me to advance their careers in showbiz. So I’d agreed to be his wife on paper and live with him. Nate was my best friend. He’d never used me to get his name in the tabloids.

  After my long workday, I’d driven to the house we shared. Nate’s car had been sitting in the driveway. I’d screamed his name as I walked around the house. A smudge of blood had caught my eye when I passed his bedroom. I walked through his bedroom to see where the blood came from and found his bathroom covered with blood. I thought he’d gotten hurt and someone had taken him to the hospital.

  “I won’t repeat myself,” the deputy said firmly. “You need to put the knife down.”

  I laid the heavy silver carving knife on the marble countertop and stepped forward, only to slip in the blood. A screech left my mouth as I flailed backward, trying to grab anything on my way down. When my ass hit the marble floor, the impact knocked the breath out of me.

  I slowly sat up. My once-white dress was red, and my hands were stained with blood. I gripped the counter and pulled myself off the ground. I was leaving a trail of bloody handprints on the bathroom counter. The sheriff stood at the door, watching my every move.

  I glared at him. “Can you please give me a moment?” My tailbone hurt from hitting the hard floor.

  The sheriff frowned at me. “The sheriff’s office is not going to treat you any differently than a normal criminal. We don’t care how famous you are. Please step out of the bathroom.”

  I didn’t know if it was from the stress of the day or having a gun pointed at me, but my eyes started to water. It felt as though my life was about to be turned upside down. I tentatively stepped forward, trying not to slip on the floor again. When I reac
hed the doorway, the sheriff grabbed me by the arm.

  I pulled back. “Wait! I need to wipe my feet off.”

  The officer yanked me forward. “We don’t have time.”

  My blood-covered foot sank into the white plush carpet. Each step left a bloody footprint. I glanced around Nate’s room one more time, hoping he would jump out and scream, “Gotcha!” But he didn’t. I blinked a couple of times to clear my vision.

  When we reached the grand staircase, which opened to the entryway, I noticed two officers talking to our new cleaner, whom Nate had hired a week ago. She turned and pointed at me. I hadn’t spoken to the new housekeeper yet, but if I had to guess, she was in her late sixties. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Her gray hair was pulled up into a loose bun. But it was the glint in her eyes that made me think she knew more than she was letting on.

  “Wait.” I stopped the deputy before he pulled me down the stairs. He turned his narrowed gray eyes on me. “I need to change. I can’t walk around covered in blood.”

  The deputy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like repeating myself, Ms. Harper. You will not get any special favors because of who you are. You need to be processed now since you decided to contaminate the crime scene.”

  I took a couple of deep breaths. “Why do you keep saying crime scene? Who is missing? Why are you here? I don’t understand.”

  He sneered as he spoke. “If you would follow me downstairs, we can talk about your missing fiancé.”

  My feet faltered under his words, and I fell forward but caught myself on the railing before I went headfirst down the stairs. I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Nate,” I whispered. This couldn’t be happening. Last night, we’d had an ugly fight. We had both said things we couldn’t take back. But he was my best friend. Even though I was mad at him, I would never want him to go missing.

  With each step I took down the white marble staircase, my mind swirled with questions. Is Nate really hurt? Why did the housekeeper call the cops without talking to me?

  By the time we reached the entryway, my new housekeeper, Ms. Orchard, was sobbing into a handkerchief. She looked up at me, hatred showing in her eyes. The older lady blinked the emotion away so fast, I almost thought for a second that she wasn’t up to something.

  “I can’t believe you killed Nate.”

  I held up my bloody hands. “Wait one second. Why are you accusing me of killing my fiancé and best friend. And why does everyone think he’s dead?”

  Ms. Orchard’s lips turned into a nasty grin. “I saw you guys fight last night and turned over the video to the police. How convenient he changed his will early this week and you get everything. Two days later, he dies. Don’t try to hide the fact that you murdered your fiancé. I already gave the police the video.”

  One of the deputies I hadn’t met yet shifted to his other foot. “Ms. Harper, where have you been all day?”

  I took a deep breath. “I was at work. You can call the director of Last Love or ask anyone on set. I was at work all day.”

  The front doors opened, and three men in CSI jackets walked in. Deputy Charles led the group of men up the staircase.

  “Can you guys just walk in and take over?” I asked.

  When the deputy shifted, I could see his last name printed on his shirt. Deputy Judges eyed the group as they disappeared down the upstairs hallway. “Nate’s dad called the sheriff this morning to report his son didn’t show up to work. He said that was unusual.”

  I wanted to scream that was a lie. Nate was notorious for missing work. Something strange was happening.

  The deputy continued. “Nate’s dad supports the sheriff’s department and donates money each year to our causes. So we decided to check it out. When we were on our way, Ms. Orchard called to tell us she saw you with Nate’s blood on your hands.”

  “I can tell you for sure she never saw me with blood on my hands. The videotape should’ve shown you that as well. I was in the bathroom for only a minute before you showed up. Hell, look at the footage. I was only home a few minutes before you guys came busting into my house, uninvited. Check the house video cameras.”

  The deputy crossed his arms over his chest. “Someone deleted all the camera footage from your house.”

  “Then how is there video from mine and Nate’s fight last night?”

  Ms. Orchard pulled out her phone. “I forgot something at the house, and when I came back, I saw the two of you fighting, and you were so mad. You seemed like you would hurt him, so I took video.”

  Every staff member signed a nondisclosure agreement and a contract. She was in breach of contract for filming anything that happened inside our house. Tabloids paid big money for the scoops on celebrities’ homes, and Nate had reassured me Ms. Orchard would be clear. If that video got out, it would destroy Nate more than me.

  “Okay, Deputy Judges, if you saw the video, I would be cleared. Why aren’t you looking for the person who gave Nate the black eye and asking about the reason we fought?” I turned toward Ms. Orchard. “You are fired and need to get off my property immediately. If the police need to talk to you, they can take you out of here. As of this second, you are no longer under my employment or Nate’s.”

  Ms. Orchard stuck her hands on her hips. “You can’t fire me. I’m to take care of this house and make sure everything runs for Nate. If you didn’t kill him and he’s coming back, I need to make sure he has everything.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, you called the cops and said I killed him. So you must think he’s dead. If you read your contract correctly, you would know I can fire you. And you are going to be receiving a lawsuit for filming our private moments, because I can tell you one thing—I’m innocent and won’t stop until I find Nate. Now get out.”

  When she didn’t move, I looked at the deputy and raised my brow. He motioned for his partner, who escorted the ex-employee out.

  “Now, can you tell me what’s next?” I asked. “I haven’t seen Nate since last night. Why does his dad think he’s missing? Nate is known for going off on vacation without telling his dad. And will someone please let me change and wash my hands?”

  “It would be easier to do this at the station. After we process you, we can ask a few more questions.”

  I looked back up the stairs, where the CSI unit was. “Why can’t they do my process?”

  The deputy let out an aggravated sigh before speaking into his hand radio. “Jake, I need you to send a tech down to process Ms. Harper’s clothing.” A few seconds later one of the CSI men came downstairs and processed me. He scraped under my nails and swabbed my hands. I asked if I could grab different clothes from upstairs, but they wouldn’t let me go back up. The tech called down to process my clothing pulled out a pair of blue scrubs from his bag. The scrubs were in a clear plastic bag. I went into the bathroom, changed, and gave my white dress to one of the CSI guys.

  My head started to pound from the stress, and my stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten all day. We had been trying to finish up a scene on Last Love and had all agreed to work through lunch. I’d planned to rush home then head over to Daisy’s grand opening.

  Daisy’s open house for her women’s shelter was today. Thinking of what my friend had overcome brought a smile to my face. Fifteen years ago, she was kidnapped and held captive for ten years. Daisy had come back to California for the first time since her rescue five years ago after she’d started dating Neal and Aaron. They’d wanted her to come out to California for a trip. When she and her men came, people from her past had come back and wanted her again, and some crazy people had kidnapped her. Not all the men from her original kidnapping had been put away ten years ago. Now she and her two men, Aaron and Neal, were opening a women’s shelter to help women who were down on their luck. Even though I hadn’t talked to Daisy over the last fifteen years, I still considered her one of my girlfriends. So when she’d come out to Los Angeles a few months ago, we caught up, and our friendship picked up from where it had left off fifteen yea
rs ago. After living in Hollywood for so long, I was used to people wanting something from me or being my friend until they reached a goal. But Daisy wasn’t like that. She only wanted to help people.

  One of her future husband’s Aaron and I had appeared together in the movie Running from Justice. I still couldn’t believe he had decided to leave the movie industry. Aaron, Neal, and Daisy were going to live their lives mostly in Ft. Lauderdale. They still planned to come to California and work at the shelter. The new shelter in Los Angeles would be a sister shelter to the Ross Women’s Outreach Center in Ft. Lauderdale. The Ross family had opened the outreach center in Ft. Lauderdale ten years ago. Kat, Aaron’s sister in-law had taken over running the outreach center for the family.

  I couldn’t help but glance at the clock on the far wall. The grand opening of Daisy’s shelter had started twenty minutes ago. “What is the next step, and when are you going to look for Nate?”

  “We need you to come down to the station and make an official statement,” the deputy said.

  “Can I do it tomorrow? I have somewhere to be.” Neal and Aaron both had connections and would be able to help me figure out what the hell was going on.

  The deputy narrowed his eyes at me. “Your fiancé might be dead, and you want to put off making your statement?”

  “Fine. Can we leave now?”

  He radioed the men upstairs. “Taking Ms. Harper to the station for her official report.”

  * * *

  For the fifth time, I glanced at the clock in the Los Angeles sheriff’s office. Sheriff Clark wanted to speak with me. I had given my statement an hour ago, but I sat in the sheriff’s office, waiting for him to show up. Pictures of awards and medals covered the wall. On his desk sat a photo of him with the governor of California.