Hack, page 15
Rafa’s face went somber. “Plenty.”
I brushed by him on my way to my room. “Wow. So detail-oriented. You could write a book. Fascinating.” I spread my fingers like jazz hands, twirled my wrists and ended in a double flip of the bird. I wanted some fucking dish about the crew.
In my room, I stripped and tossed my clothes on the bed then headed for the shower. Rafa stalked behind me, chucking the laptop and hard drive next to my pajamas. He propped his hands on his hips and hovered in the doorway of the bathroom.
“Something happened to his girl. She’s fucked up.”
I turned on the spray of the shower and tested the temperature with my hand. “Again, your ability to lay out the fine points is mesmerizing.”
Rafa shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. “She was kidnapped, beaten, raped and about five minutes away from being sold on the black market as a sex slave. She sits at home and eats cereal and stares at the nature channel all day long. I haven’t even seen her since it happened. He won’t leave her, but she’s not the girl he fell in love with.”
Holy shit. A ping of stupidity stung in my gut. I’d thought I was playing a game in Covington. They weren’t. For as smart as I was, I was incredibly fucking stupid.
I stopped myself from getting in the shower and asked in a soft voice, “How did he get her back?”
Rafa stared over my shoulder then flicked his eyes back to me. “He didn’t. And that’s the whole point, M. No one comes back from that.”
A part of me, the one that was too curious for my own good, wanted to ask if that was why Rafa hate-fucked—no risk of emotional attachment, no risk of losing someone you care about. But I stepped into the open shower and Rafa bowed out behind me.
The exit strategy I’d been thinking about was becoming more and more important. The problem was, I didn’t want to go back to my old life.
Chapter Seventeen
Rafa
I hadn’t wanted to tell her about Scooter’s girl—one, because I thought it might scare her away and two, because I was afraid I would let it slip that we’d killed someone. But there had been some dark shit that had gone down before Marigold had shown up unannounced and been stupid enough to stay, and she deserved to know the difference between violent criminals and cute girls who sat at home and spread computer viruses.
With the laptop under my arm and the hard drive in hand, I punched the button for the elevator. Anton came out of our apartment down the hall and the doors opened as soon as he was next to me.
We entered and he rubbed his hands together. “If you’re getting rid of that, it means it was payday.”
“Yup. Ninety Gs in the bank. Well, in the virtual account. What do you want me to do with it?”
He crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. “Nothing yet. I gotta have dinner with my mom tomorrow night. Actually, it would be helpful if you came with me. Leo was always a good distraction for her.”
“Yeah, sure.” Being asked to meet Anton’s mother was a weird honor. She was criminal royalty in the city. But being reminded that I wasn’t Leo? That had gotten old the week after he’d left.
“What about those game locations?” he asked as the doors opened and we crossed the empty entryway.
The sun beat down on us hard once we got outside into the courtyard. Its heat made me break out in an instant layer of thin sweat.
“Just waiting for the addresses from my cousin. Then I have a special delivery to make.” My devious smile matched his own.
Jackson was at the bench and I nodded my hello to him. Anton stopped and lifted a finger. “One more thing. You need to fuck Rainbow Brite at our place. You not being there at night gives the impression that you don’t want to be there—like you’d rather be somewhere else, which I’m sure isn’t the case.” His tight smile was fake, and a bit of a warning.
It was so typically Anton. Pat my head and give me the treat of going to dinner with his mother then scold me for bad behavior with a hidden threat. Not even the money I’d just made for him could keep him from flexing his bossman muscle.
Except I did want to be somewhere else. I just didn’t know where it was or how to get there. But instead of objecting and reminding him how valuable I was, I just said, “Copy that,” and headed west toward the river.
There were no cops in sight, and instead of climbing the bridge like I normally did, I chucked the laptop off the side of the observation deck and it skipped on the top of the water like a flat stone before it landed and slowly sunk. I threw the hard drive right after it, and as soon as it was out of my hands, something poked me in the ass.
I spun around and a little old lady with her cane was waiting for me with a disapproving look.
“You know that’s terrible for the fish.”
“You really think there are fish in that river?” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder to the filthy and polluted waters behind me.
“Good point. But it’s still littering. Give me a hundred bucks and my Alzheimer’s will kick in. I won’t remember you breaking the law.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Not because I wouldn’t pay her, but because she had the balls to ask for the money. A littering fine would have probably been cheaper, but it was a way less fun story to tell.
“Damn, lady. A hundred? Really?”
“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” She leaned on her cane with one hand and extended the other.
“What makes you think I have that kind of money?”
“Don’t dick with me. You just threw a computer and something else into the river.”
“Fair enough.” I dug into my pocket and unrolled a hundred-dollar bill. I slapped it in the palm of her hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” She stuffed the bill into her bra and hobbled off. Marigold was going to love that story.
On the way back to Covington, I stopped for a bottle of water at a deli, and as I was screwing back on the top, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Three addresses popped up in a text from my cousin. Fucking bingo. Damn, it was turning out to be a brilliant day.
I called my cousin Diego in Queens and ordered six of his nastiest cages with a delivery date for that night. Jefferson Manor and the patrons they’d stolen from us were in for a filthy surprise.
At the bench, I found Jimmy and I put my arm around him. “You’re on duty again tonight. I have a delivery to make. Oh, and you’ll have to train without me today.”
“Got it. Jerimiah was going to come anyway. He can spot me.”
I gave Jerimiah the once-over and hoped for Jimmy’s sake that he didn’t plan on lifting anything heavy. After a squeeze in his neck, I let him go.
More than an hour had passed since I’d left Marigold, and she was in the kitchen, dressed and ready to go. Damn, she wore nerd goth like a supermodel. Black fishnets, black shorts and a white-collar button-down shirt tucked in.
“Stop looking at me like I’m the candy you deny yourself in the name of keeping your body fit.”
I stepped over to her and nudged her backward so that she was trapped between me and the counter. “The only thing sweet about you is the way you smell,” I whispered and ran my nose along her jawline. I also took a big whiff of that addicting scent.
M pushed into my chest. “Get off, meathead. And don’t act all boyfriend-y in front of my parents. My mom is already suspicious of me living in a place she’s never seen.”
“As she should be. This is a terrible neighborhood.” I stepped away, instantly regretting the distance between us.
“I just need to get Spock’s bag.”
Plastic crinkled as M folded a big blue bag and shoved it into her backpack. I didn’t ask the question burning in my brain, but from Spock’s sad eyes and folded ears, he didn’t like his bag.
“Come on, big boy.” She attached his leash and we were out the door. We took the stairs down and were scorching in the hot sun within minutes. I put my arm around Marigold, claiming her yet again in front of the crew as we passed. But the scrutinizing eyes of Anton were on us. I’d failed to tell him I was taking the day off for a home visit.
He came up to us and I stopped with a smile. “Where you two headed?”
“New job, new computers.” I smiled. “By the way, my cousin came through. Tell Jackson to get our bar back downtown. He can set up a game for this weekend.”
“Good. You mind if I send Scooter with him? He needs to get out of the house. And since you are more lucrative with this one, I’d hate to waste your time on a dice game.”
“Whatever you think is best, boss. I’ll see you tonight after I take care of Jefferson.”
Anton looked us up and down before stepping to the side and letting us pass. M and I walked in silence to the train station where she stopped and dug out the blue plastic bag. If dogs could frown, Spock was owning it, maybe even giving the evil eye to the oversized sack.
“How often do you lie to him?” Marigold handed me the leash then twisted to open her bag.
Shit. I was busted. Worse, I’d lied for her.
“You want him to know where you live?”
She froze. It hadn’t been a threat, but it had sounded like one.
“No. So thank you for keeping that nugget for yourself.” Marigold crunched down in front of her dog, who refused to look her in the eyes. “Dogs can be in the train as long as they’re in a bag. Come on, Spock. In.”
“M, seriously. Don’t treat my homie like that. I’ll pay the damn fine. Besides, why are you—of all people—so keen on obeying the law?”
“I’m trying not to draw attention to us.”
That? That was hilarious. “You mean with your unicorn fart hair and resting bitch face?”
“Fuck off.” She stood and refolded the bag.
We jogged down the stairs and swiped our cards through the turnstile. The train came, we boarded and no one said a damn word about the giant blue pit bull and his lack of a bag.
But the oddest thing did happen. About halfway through the ride and with Spock at our feet, Marigold wove her fingers into mine. Her hand was a little sweaty and I gave it a quick squeeze, neither one of us making eye contact. I suspected she was just as nervous as I was. It wasn’t every day I went to meet the parents of the girl I hate-fucked and sorta liked.
And there was a hard truth. I did like Marigold Pfeifer—not just her banging little body. Her warped mind had me mesmerized. How she knew how to be everything I wanted was a fucking mystery. Shit. My pulse raced and my knee started bobbing. I didn’t hate her at all. Oh, fucking hell. I was crushing on her. What was wrong with me? I was holding her hand! In public! I didn’t even want to let go. Who am I?
“Hey!” Marigold shout-whispered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Me?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, my voice cracked.
“No. The lady with three kids over there.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. You’re all jittery and shit.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at her, my mouth agape. Soon enough, the horror washed over her face as well and her gaze drifted in stupefied dread to our hands. She withdrew hers then stared at her palm like the villainous traitor it was.
The shock and disgust in the look she shot me would have made me laugh, but I had to admit it stung a little. Plus, I’d liked holding her hand. Fuck.
“Why did you do that?” she spat.
“Me?”
“Who else am I talking to?” M shook her head and wiped her hand on her stomach. That was slightly over the top. I didn’t have cooties. We’d had sex, for fuck’s sake.
I shifted in my seat and glared at her. I wasn’t going to take the blame for her random act of tenderness. “You did that. You interlaced your fingers into mine.”
“No. No, I didn’t.” Her denial was weak, as if she’d already known the truth and was trying to convince herself she was innocent. Ha. Hardly. Her stumble was enough for me to get my swagger back.
I licked my lips and leaned into her ear. “You did. You reached out and took my hand. And you know why?”
Her eyes raced over mine. “Because I’ve been possessed?”
“Because you like me.” So what if I was projecting? She was too destabilized to pick up on it.
“Eww. No, I don’t.”
I clicked my tongue. “Taking me home to meet Mom and Dad. Letting me sleep in your bed and snuggle… Marigold, do you have a crush on me?”
She scoffed. “You wish. And by the way, you’re basically holding me prisoner. The only reason you’re here is because you would never let me go alone for fear of me leaving your pathetic ass.”
All true. “Stockholm syndrome is real, baby.”
“Jesus Christ. Did you do some of the drugs you sell?” She crossed her arms and glared at me, but there was a flicker of realization behind all those fake daggers she was sending my way. Damn it, she was beautiful.
“I’m high on life.” I grinned from ear to ear.
“Gross.” M mumbled more objections under her breath, but she knew what she’d done. She could deny it six ways till Sunday but the truth was just that.
“So what are we telling your parents, anyway?”
She grimaced. “I told them you were my friend and I was helping you with a job.”
“Friends with benefits.” I waggled my eyebrows to piss her off. It totally worked.
“You say that to my parents and the next time I use my teeth, I’ll bite.” She recognized the empty threat as soon as it was out of her mouth. “You’d probably like that.”
The rest of the ride, I sat with a smug smile next to her—her side-eye and curse word babbles only making me more pleased with myself. Also, I might have been thinking about the next time that she had made pretty apparent was on the table.
“This is our stop.” M stood and Spock stretched.
“And guess what? No doggie-bag police.” I scratched Spock behind the ears and followed them through the open train doors and up the blackened cement stairs. To fuck with her even more, I reached for her hand once we were outside. She swatted it away several times like she was murdering a bug that had dared to crawl on her sweet skin.
We walked down a few blocks with delis and odd shops then turned onto a tree-lined residential street. The houses had small, fenced-in yards and concrete driveways. It was about as normal as one could get. Poor M had probably stuck out like a sore thumb. She stopped in front of a simple house with a minivan in the driveway.
“Before you make fun of me for that, it’s the neighbors. My parents only believe in public transportation.”
That was a huge insight into a lot of things. If her family didn’t have a car because of their beliefs, there were probably many other tree-hugging habits that Marigold had rebelled against. It totally explained the junk food. A lightbulb exploded in my head. Her parents were greenies. Being a sci-fi computer nerd was her way to rebel. Bless her twisted heart. It was all an act of severing the emotional umbilical cord from her parents. They were probably the nicest people on the planet.
She opened the gate and unhooked Spock from the leash. He immediately pissed on a bush then rolled around in the grass, spreading his scent.
“He has to tell the neighborhood squirrels and cats that he’s back. They taunt him when he’s inside. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Eighteen
Marigold
An electric shiver ran up my spine as I placed my hand on the knob of my parents’ front door. I’d never taken a guy home to meet them. Hell, I hadn’t had friends over since…since I’d had friends.
I gave Rafael one last fleeting glance. He’d have to do. Better to have him on my side than working against me. My mom could be a lot to take in. Okay, big-girl pants.
The frosted glass in the entry way gave a little rattle and Spock nearly took me out as he raced inside.
“Mom! I’m home,” I called out and gave a warning glare to Rafa. He smiled softly in return. My stomach turned sour. If he was going to play the sweet and innocent card with those gorgeous eyes, my mom might not be able to be the big bad controlling tyrant that only I saw her to be. Also, I might have to puke.
“There you are.” My mother crossed her arms as her eyes raked over Rafa from the threshold to the kitchen. She clocked the ink on his forearms, his wide chest and probably cursed his leather boots. “Who’s this?”
Rafa stepped forward and extended his hand. “Rafael Santos, Mrs. Pfeifer. Nice to meet you.”
They shook hands and I counted down from three to one in my head.
“Ms. Carlson. I didn’t take my husband’s name.” She smirked.
Yep. That had been entirely predictable.
“My apologies.” Rafa offered a tight smile.
“Marigold must have forgotten to mention it.” Cue the internal gagging on my part. Nope. I hadn’t forgotten anything. The omission was equal parts to annoy my mom and show Rafa who she really was.
She sighed. It was dramatic. Her pity party had officially kicked off. “Well, at least she mentioned me. I was beginning to think she’d forgotten that she lives here.”
I let the zinger hang out in the air. After years of fighting with her, I’d learned that silence had proven to be the one way to annoy her the most.
“Dad here?” I asked after we were all thoroughly uncomfortable.
“He’ll be back for lunch. Let’s have a cup of tea and talk about your new job.”
My mother’s mood brightened, but I could see the claws she was trying to dig into me for information.
It was highly probable that there was nothing abnormal about my mother, that she was just like many other overly concerned parents out there. In fact, I was more and more convinced that the problem was me. I loved her. She was my mom after all. I just didn’t like her. It sounded horrible, but it was a hard and ugly truth that had eaten at me for years. We didn’t understand each other and were both too stubborn to see the other one’s point of view. Eventually, I’d just stopped sharing mine. In her opinion, I was always wrong, always too young to understand or far too reckless.
“I’m going to show something to Rafa on my computer. Call us when lunch is ready.” I stepped toward the basement door but was blocked by my mom.
