A Father's Sacrifice. Mallory Kane

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      THE HACKER grinned as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Just a few more keystrokes and he’d have his first look at Dr. Dylan Stryker’s neural interface operating software.

      He’d been working toward this moment for three years, since the botched kidnapping of Stryker’s wife and son. He’d learned a lot from the extremists who had run the neurosurgeon’s wife and baby son off the road.

      Idiots. Their blind devotion to their cause came in handy, but only if they had a leader to guide them. He was in control this time. There would be no mistakes.

      There was nothing more satisfying than to beat the government at their own game. He’d waited a long time for another chance to prove his superiority.

      Eight years ago, he’d not only cracked the FBI’s domestic terrorist database, he’d framed a young hacker for the breach. He’d needed to get rid of her—she’d been too good.

      By planting subtle but identifiable clues inside the FBI’s computer program, he’d led lead investigators to the computer lab at the college she attended. Once they’d identified the computer, it was simple to trace her ID and find the evidence he’d so carefully planted.

      His brilliant frame-up had made him famous in the hacking world. And now he was back. The National Security Agency had designed Stryker’s firewall, and it was impressive. But so were his skills.

      Alert to any sign of detection, he typed a few lines of code, nudging the protective barrier around the software that could make the fabled computer-enhanced supersoldier a reality.

      A sense of omnipotence streaked through him. His fingertips tingled and a visceral exhilaration sizzled in his groin. Nobody except another hacker could understand the feeling.

      All he needed was a few seconds to gain entrance to the ultrasecure area where Stryker’s files and programs on the neural interface were stored.

      He was typing the last bit of code when his cell phone rang.

      He jumped. “Son of a—” He jabbed the talk button. “What? I’m in the middle of something.”

      “The computer expert is here.”

      Excitement spread through him like electricity. At last, a challenge. “When?”

      “An hour or so ago. She’s an FBI agent—Natasha something.”

      “Natasha?” His fingers went numb with shock. “Are you sure?” He stood, propelling the computer chair backward. “What does she look like?”

      “Tall. Long blond hair. Do you know her?”

      Natasha. “Of course not.” Sweat prickled his neck and armpits. He glanced at his computer screen. “Is she online?”

      “No. She’s in her room.”

      “Did she have a laptop?”

      “Nope. Mintz won’t allow wireless in here.”

      “I want to know the instant she puts her fingers on the keyboard.”

      “I’ll try. You know how hard it is to call out. How much longer until—”

      “Don’t start with me. I’ve got to think. You just make sure you’re ready.”

      “Are you sure I’ll be safe?”

      “God, just do your job and give me a break.” He jabbed the disconnect button.

      Tall. Blonde. Rage burned through him.

      That was his luck. Of course they would send Natasha. His nemesis. The only hacker he’d ever known who could even approach his talent. He’d realized her worth the first time he’d ever met her.

      He sat and pulled the keyboard toward him. He cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers, then arched his neck. A slow smile spread over his features. In a way it was like a karmic balance.

      He’d almost destroyed her once because she refused to follow his lead, but fate in the guise of the FBI had intervened. They’d trained her and hired her instead of sending her to prison. At the time the irony had eaten a hole in his gut.

      Now he understood. His patience, his efforts to distance himself from the radical group who’d caused the death of Stryker’s wife, were paying off in a way he’d never dreamed.

      Stryker’s interface and the software that operated it were worth billions. Several foreign leaders were waiting, cash in hand, for the technology that had the potential to create a real supersoldier.

      Yes, he wanted the money, but that wasn’t why he was doing this.

      He finally had a chance to prove once and for all that he was the best. He was pitted against Natasha Rudolph again.

      He held the advantage because he knew her greatest fear. Before this was over, she’d pay for dodging prison eight years ago. And her punishment this time would be worse—so much worse.

      He put on his telephone headset and hit a preset number on his cell. He had to make sure everything was in place for his first destructive attack on Stryker’s estate.

      As he waited he placed his fingertips on the keyboard. A thrill, almost sexual, shot through him, all the way to his groin. Natasha was on the other end of his computer.

      It would double his pleasure to know she would die along with Stryker.

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