A French Whipping Read Online Free PDF Page A

head against the door, listening to the crunch of salt and ice as he made his way down her steps.
    When she couldn’t hear him anymore, she turned so that she was leaning back against the door and crossed her arms over her chest.
    “Well, that sucked.” She sighed. Straightening, she headed back down the hallway to pour herself another cup of tea. She’d answered one question, at least. She hadn’t been one hundred percent sure he’d wanted her. She was sure now. She was also sure that if she wanted him, she was going to have to be the one to push for it.
    It would be a new experience for her; she was sure of that much. She’d never deliberately set out to seduce a man in her life. She figured it was about time.

3

    A WEEK LATER, Nick stopped by Boston Children’s Hospital to see Chuck, a twelve-year-old cancer patient, and some of the other kids he’d met helping Milton with the benefit they’d held a few weeks earlier. Milton and Regina had left on their vacation that morning, and Nick knew the kids would be disappointed that Milton wouldn’t be dropping by for his usual Friday magic show, when he usually performed tricks and gave away awesome gifts.
    Nick had never involved himself much in Accendo’s charity work. He’d supported it, of course, but he hadn’t really had any particular passion. Milton was the one who’d directed most of the money and activities toward the children’s hospital, and Nick had been happy to help him when asked. But the magic show that Milton had helped the kids put on a few months ago had been special. Seeing their eyes light up at being able to do simple tricks had been a kick, and Nick had discovered that Chuck—unenthusiastic as he might seem sometimes—shared Nick’s affinity for the usefulness and beauty of knots.
    So he’d decided to drop by today, just to check on everyone and maybe show Chuck and anyone else who was interested some new knots. He’d also brought some new video games, and Roland had sent over boxes containing a variety of toys, all labeled with the kids’ names. How the hell had Roland known what the kids would want?
    Nick hadn’t asked. Roland had been moody lately, irritated about how long it was taking to get their latest security program running after they’d been hacked earlier in the year. He’d been on Nick’s case to get it completed, never mind that Nick had resolved the biggest hurdle in a successful test days ago. The security program, nicknamed MOMENT, had been Roland’s idea, conceived following the Boston Marathon bombing. It was intended to act as a warning device, reading the nonverbal signals that indicated someone planned to commit mass murder or destruction.
    They hadn’t been able to build it without surveillance video to map and teach the software the nonverbal cues to look for, so Roland had approached the federal government with the idea of a collaborative effort. They’d managed to work out a deal and had nearly nailed the complex coding required when the hackers had attacked a few months earlier.
    It had been a setback; the government had already been doubtful of Accendo’s ability to protect the surveillance information it had shared. It had taken all of Roland’s charm and his stepfather’s considerable political influence to keep the project alive, but no one was pleased that a hacker had managed to steal at least part of the code, especially since they hadn’t found the person or people behind the attack. Their only lead was that the hacker had been helped by one of Accendo’s former clients, a Russian gangster named Polzin.
    Nick frowned, thinking about it. Whoever’d managed to hack their system either had help from inside, or had known them well. But who? And why? Most of their competitors in the security and decryption space would have no interest in a program that read nonverbal expressions looking for the indicators that would signal intent to do great harm. This project wasn’t like anything they’d