Covert Intents: A Branson Family Novella

CHAPTER ONE

Seth
Harrington was undercover.

Six months ago when he’d been recruited by the covert operations division of Omega Sector —an elite law enforcement task force made up of only the best agents from around the country— he’d held no delusions of grandeur about what he’d be doing. He’d worked for the FBI for too long before being recruited by Omega to view undercover work or law-enforcement work in general with rose-colored glasses.

Most of it was boring.

A lot of paperwork and hours of monotonous watching and waiting with hopefully a big enough payoff at the end to make it all worthwhile.

But as Seth picked up another classroom waste basket and poured its contents into the larger trashcan he was wheeling around, he had to admit this was even worse that he’d thought it would be.

Two months undercover as a janitor at Virginia State University, just outside of Washington D.C. It was definitely not glamorous.

Omega Sector had received reliable intel that someone here in the computer engineering department planned to steal and sell an advanced microchip being developed to encode and decode advanced passwords. The bigger problem was that the U.S. Government was the contracting agent. So having the microchip fall into the wrong hands could have some pretty devastating consequences. 

Seth was here to make sure that didn’t happen.

Sending him in as a professor had been Omega’s first inclination, but Seth knew that would be suspicious. The academic realm was close-knit and would look very closely at an outsider suddenly showing up and wanting information. Not to mention they would expect him to know detailed data and particulars about computer engineering.

Seth held a Master of Sciencedegree in Criminal Justice, but that wasn’t going to help him fool computer experts. So Seth had suggested he go under as a custodian, o
r
facilities maintenance technician
,
as the job read on paper. 

He dumped another trash can, trying not to cringe as a half-full can of soda spilled out onto the floor. Suggesting janitorial work definitely hadn’t been his greatest idea ever.

But as much as he might dislike it, it was good for undercover. Nobody paid him any attention. He had a key to almost every office and room. People spoke around him as if he wasn’t there at all.

But damn if these college kids weren’t the biggest jerks on the planet. And the professors? Not much better. None of them ever spoke to Seth, ever made eye-contact with him, or ever picked up after themselves. Most of them were deliberately rude behind his back or even sometimes to his face.

Seth wasn’t here to make friends, he was here to stop important information from being stolen. So he kept his head down, and when some bratty professor or kid muttered an asinine statement about him probably having a criminal record or not speaking English, he didn’t even look up.

Definitely didn’t pull his gun on them like he was tempted to do or explain that he held an advanced degree and had spent the last decade protecting this country.

Instead he just dumped another trash can.

It was getting late now, evening classes were letting out. Seth decided to head up to the eighth floor where the engineering research labs were held. He had to wait a long time since one of the three elevators was out of service, and none of the students or professors would make room for him and his cart, even when there was space available.

It was like they were afraid they might catch something from him if they were left in an enclosed space with him for too long.

Seth promised himself he would learn the names of every custodial staff member working anywhere in the Omega building once he returned there. He would say hello, ask about their day. Thank them for their help. He would not be like these college jerks.

Finally the elevator opened empty and Seth was able to wheel his cart, filled with a large yellow trash container and various cleaning supplies, on it. Once he made it to the labs, he kept his head down and immediately pulled out a dry mop.

This floor was where he would catch his perp. So here more than anywhere else, it was important that everyone think he was “just” a janitor.

Seth had narrowed his suspect pool down to three main people. One professor and two graduate assistants. The intel Omega had intercepted had definitely come from the lab, but they hadn’t been able to attach a name to who sent it. Seth had been systematically eliminating suspects.

But he was running out of time.

The lab’s work on the microchip was coming to an end Seth knew from conversations he’d overheard. It would soon be ready to transfer if it wasn’t already. Whoever was going to be making a play would be making it soon.

But the woman standing at the end of the hallway slipping something under an office door was very definitely not one of his suspects.

Rachel Branson.

She was a literature instructor, or something like that. Not quite a full professor, but close. Normally her office wouldn’t even be on this floor, but there had been flooding in one of the other buildings six months ago which had put a dozen or so professors out of their offices for this academic year. Rachel had been relocated into a small office on the same floor as the research lab, but didn’t have any part in the lab or its goings-on.

If Seth could have run the other way from her without it blowing his cover and being completely ridiculous he would have.

Rachel was the only person he’d met so far who didn’t ignore him. She never side-stepped to get away from him in the hall as if he had some sort of communicable disease. She never attempted to make jokes or comments that she thought would go over his head, or talk down to him as if he had a learning disability.

She wa
s
awar
e
of him.

At first he thought she was on to him, that he’d blown his cover. Given who her family was, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had an extra-developed sense of observation.

But he soon realized that those big brown eyes followed him everywhere because she was aware of him as
a
ma
n
, not as an undercover agent.

Sweet “Dr. Almost” Branson had a crush on him.

She was so not his type. He preferred leggy blondes over short brunettes with ample curves and shy eyes. Not to mention the pile of books she always tended to be carrying around.

But damned if he’d been able to get her out of his mind from the first moment he’d seen her.

Her huge pile of books had been about to topple over and he’d helped her carry them back to her office from the classroom where she’d been teaching. Ever since then big, brown eyes had followed him whenever they were anywhere near each other.

So yeah, under other circumstances, even though she wasn’t his normal type, Seth would’ve probably asked her out. Explored what the professor looked like without her glasses and peeled out of those button-down sweaters she liked to wear so much. To kiss that mouth of hers that began stammering every time she really began talking to him.

But, no. Not only was he undercover, Rachel was also a cousin to the Bransons. They were pretty much Omega Sector royalty. Cameron, Sawyer and Juliet were current agents, and the oldest brother, Dylan, still consulted every once in a while.

One of them would’ve been on this undercover mission right now if it wasn’t for Rachel. Not only might she have let it slip they were related, Rachel —like most people— wasn’t even aware the undercover division of Omega Sector existed or that her cousins were some of the best federal agents in the country.

So as much as he might be tempted, and damn was he tempted, Seth would not be asking the pretty instructor out.

All he had to do was keep his head down and focused on the job. Catch the bad guys. As long as he didn’t make any romantic moves toward Rachel he was certain she would be too shy to make any towards him.

Mores the pity.

#

Rachel
slipped the hand-written note on flowery card-stock complete with matching envelope under Ryan Powell’s door. She’d just slipped a similar one under Lydia Williams’s door just down the hall. Both of them were graduate assistants here in the computer engineering lab and Rachel had become friends with them.

Or, maybe not friends, but friendly. Enough that they’d both asked Rachel to come have drinks with them last week when a number of graduate students and some assistant professors had gone out.

Rachel had had a good time. She hadn’t spilled her drink on herself or sat in the corner away from everyone else as she tended to do. It had been fun.

Fun might be too strong a word. It at least hadn’t been painful. Or as Charles Dickens would say
:
To a young heart everything is fu
n
.

Evidently Rachel could quote Dickens around the science nerds and they thought it was fabulous. Just like the hand-written notes she’d just left asking about tomorrow’s outing. She could’ve texted or emailed, but Ryan and Lydia had gotten such a kick out of her leaving cards last week that Rachel had decided to do it again this week.

Rachel was looking forward to going out with the group again. She was glad to get away from all the other literature professors and grad assistants. She was around them too often. They all pretty much got on each other’s nerves.

As she slipped the card under Ryan’s door, she noticed it wasn’t shut all the way. She tapped on it.

“Ryan?” It’s Rachel.”

There was no answer and no lights were on. He must have accidentally left his door cracked. She pulled it closed, hoping that’s what Ryan would want.

Rachel turned to walk down the hallway to the elevator, it was getting late. She barely made it two steps before she saw him.

Seth.

She had to concentrate on her walking in order not to stumble. When he raised his hand and gave her a slight wave she wanted to run the other way, but knew that was ridiculous.

What grown woman turned and ran the other way just because a man gave her a friendly half wave?

Especially a man as attractive as Seth.

Okay, yes, he was a custodian. That might be the polar opposite of her intended career as a literature professor, but so what? Rachel may have a pretty impressive list of faults: hips too wide, lips to big, head always in a book, but judging others based on their careers wasn’t one of them.

Plus, there was something about Seth —some sort of aura that surrounded him— that compelled Rachel. Drew her.

She couldn’t exactly explain it. Just that Seth had an awareness of everything going on around him that went beyond what most people observed. She’d seen that same look in her cousins’ eyes on occasion. Like they were watching everything from an entirely different level.

But given that Cameron and Juliet were both accountants, Sawyer was in some kind of computer sales, and Dylan was a pilot, Rachel figured she was just crazy.

She was just crazy about Seth too.

Not craz
y
abou
t
Seth. Crazy concerning Seth.

And, oh crap, here he was. He must think she was a moron just standing out here in the hallway.

“Hey, Rachel. You heading out? Your Wednesday night class go okay?”

That voice, smoky and deep. It had her smoothing her sweater over the too generous curves of her waist and shifting back and forth on her low heels.

“Hi Seth. Yeah, it was fine. Hard to interest lower-classmen in Elizabeth Browning, but I try.”

Oh man, was she really mentioning a Victorian poet to Seth? He probably had no idea who Browning even was. A lot of people didn’t.

“I’m sure you’re great at making it interesting.”

Rachel was much better at researching and reading than she was teaching, but teaching some undergraduate sections of literature was part of her doctoral program scholarship, so she did it.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure they think so.”

“Were you waiting for Mr. Powell? Is he supposed to be back here tonight?”

“No, Ryan is gone for the day. He and Lydia invited me out for drinks —a social gathering with some of the college employees— tomorrow at Baxter’s. I was just leaving them a note.”

“Oh, are you going?”

This was her chance, Rachel realized. The chance she’d been considering and weighing and evaluating, ad nauseam.

The chance to ask Seth out.

She wondered if he would laugh at her if he knew she had developed a script of sorts for asking him on a date. Things she could say and possible responses he might have so she would know how to reply.

Rachel may almost have a Ph.D. in medieval romance literature, but when it came to romance itself she was pretty bad at it. Finding the right words was difficult for her.