Hack, page 23
“Gotta admit,” the guy said. “I am dying to see if your carpet matches the drapes.”
My heart stopped and lodged itself into my throat.
The driver chuckled. “Rainbow pussy. I’ve heard it all now.”
I managed to keep my eyes open long enough to know I was headed back to exactly where I didn’t want to be.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rafa
The guard poked her finger between my shoulder blades as she led me down the empty corridor. When we got to the end, the lighting hummed overhead and the metal gate buzzed then clanked open in front of me. It had been a surprise when she’d called my name from the community holding cell. I’d only been locked up four, maybe five hours, and I’d refused my phone call because I couldn’t think straight.
Once the gate had shut, the short guard stepped around me and motioned for my handcuffed wrists. With a click and a jangle, I was free.
“Sorry about your face.” She sounded like a bored cartoon character. I suspected she was far, far from sorry, but it was a small price to pay for my freedom. I signed for my personal belongings, threaded my belt back through the loops and re-laced my boots. I had no idea who I would find on the other side of the door. And I hated that a part of me wanted it to be Marigold. I still couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
I hadn’t spent time wondering who would pay my bail. I’d spent time wondering why the fuck M would sell me out like that. Why—if she claimed she loved me—would she have me fucking arrested? I’d even wondered if she’d concocted some plan to make me hot and horny. And as fucked up as that sounded, it actually made the most sense.
Except the fact that she was a callous, lying bitch who I should have never trusted. She’d fucking hacked me, found me, manipulated me, toyed with me and was probably laughing at me from wherever she was. God, I was a fucking headcase.
I cracked my neck and shoved my phone in my back pocket. Out the door I went but stopped in my tracks when my massive best friend’s frown hit me. How the fuck?
Jackson leaned against a bike rack in a dark suit, his arms crossed. I shook my head and trotted down the stairs of the police station. I’d never seen him out of black jeans or workout gear. His energy pulsated maturity, class and wisdom. He was almost a stranger.
Jackson exhaled a whoosh. “Well, you certainly picked a firecracker.”
We did a man-hug and a chest tap and I rolled my eyes. “Pretty sure I’m finished with that one. Fucking arrested, Jax. In the middle of the day. For a computer she asked me to steal.” I made a little trumpet sound with my mouth. There was a lie in my disgust. My best friend had probably heard it as loudly as I had.
Jackson smirked and waved me toward a massive SUV with tinted windows.
I followed, still complaining, probably whining like the little bitch she’d turned me into. “You know the fucking kicker? She had the balls to say she loved me. Un-fucking-believable.”
The lights of the truck flashed, and I cornered around the hood to the passenger side and jumped in.
Jackson powered the ignition and I turned to him with narrowed eyes.
“How did you know I was in there?”
He checked his mirrors and pulled out of the parking spot then glanced over to me, thoroughly unamused. “Your fucking whack-a-doo called mine.”
There was a black cord to charge phones and I dug mine out and plugged it in. It had sounded a lot like Jackson had just said M had called Lisa to bail me out of jail.
“Why would she get me arrested then ask you to come get me? All that just to skip town? She could have done that no matter what.”
The bemused grin on his face disappeared, replaced by disgust. “Because we have bigger problems. That fucker Jimmy is a mole.”
I sat back, my spine like a cold, iron rod. Jimmy as a mole was bad, real fucking bad. But Jackson had said, ‘we’, so that was… Better? Was he back in the crew somehow?
As we drove across town, Jackson explained to me what Lisa had told him about her phone call with Marigold. And if the story were true, she had wanted to save my life. While that may have lightened the blow, she hadn’t had the confidence in me or the crew to work our shit out. And, she’d kept her online dealings from me. Not fucking cool either. But get me arrested to save me? Worst fucking instincts in history.
On a tree-lined street that was quintessential upper middle class, Jackson found a parking spot and he led me to a brownstone. He typed in a code and the door clicked open.
“Do you live here?” I asked. Holy Shit. How much was Leo paying him? The lifestyle of the straight and narrow had never looked so appetizing.
“Nanna’s house,” he said with a warning, whatever the fuck that meant.
I found out soon enough as I walked down the entryway and to a living room that looked like it hadn’t been modernized in decades. It must have been a Covington Heights crew reunion. Leo Ricci, our former number two in charge, also in a classy-as-fuck suit, paced behind a small, antique couch with his phone at his ear. Anton glanced at me from a side chair, his cold eyes revealing nothing, and Scooter walked in from the opposite doorway, carrying a coffee pot and cups.
So Leo and Jackson were back. Was I relieved or terrified?
Jackson must have sensed my confusion and he leaned back and whispered, “M called Lisa. Lisa called me. I called Leo. Leo called Anton and he and Scoot got the fuck out of there. If there is one mole, there may be many.”
Anton sat in silence until Leo had finished his hushed call. “So, the way I see it, Raf sends Jimmy a text saying he’ll meet him at the game. Scooter and I will go with you and be waiting when he shows up. We beat the shit out of him and drop him on the border. If anyone else in the crew is working both sides, it will be a two-fold lesson. One, they will suffer the same fate. Two, it didn’t work.”
I rolled my shoulders back and a bit of the tension I’d been carrying since Marigold had screamed her betrayal in the middle of a crowd left me. If we had Jackson and Leo back, we’d just got a hell of a lot more dangerous. I’d always suspected there was a bond between Leo and Anton. If his friend were in trouble, he would have his back. Leo might have even felt as if he owed Anton, after how he’d left.
“Okay.” Leo circled around the couch with a twisted frown. “What if Jimmy isn’t alone? What if Jimmy has some Jefferson pricks waiting somewhere in the wings?”
I didn’t need to check in with Scooter or Jackson. We were witnessing something rare—questioning of the bossman’s judgment. Anton and Leo stared at each other for a solid minute. They had a communication channel that none of us had ever figured out. So far, it had served them well.
Anton rubbed his neck then admitted, “He’s really good with a gun. Fast. Accurate.”
“Okay. Jackson and I will find a place to hide. They aren’t expecting us.”
“But what aren’t we expecting from them?” I asked and all eyes turned to me then blinked away as the possibilities filled our heads.
My own thoughts went to Jimmy. M had mentioned several times that she didn’t trust him. Maybe that had been her way of warning me. But if she’d bugged his apartment like she’d told Lisa, she should have told me that. It was possible I’d been too wrapped up in wanting Jimmy to succeed that I’d failed to notice his shortcomings. After the absence of Leo and Jackson, Anton, Scooter and I had all been hungry for someone to step up. Jefferson knew it and they were probably double pissed since we’d taken back the games. Yeah, their revenge would be raw.
The doorbell rang and gave me a shock. I’d been in fights. I’d even been in vicious brawls. But I’d never walked into a gun fight. The only thing that gave me a little bit of relief was that I had faked my shooting skills in front of Jimmy. When we’d gone to the range together, M’s advice about being under-estimated had rung louder than the shots we’d taken at the paper targets. I’d faked being bad and couldn’t understand why when I had. But standing there, the reason hit me. It had been my instincts. I hadn’t trusted that slimy fuck any more than M had.
Scooter came back from the door carrying plastic bags of food—’fight fuel’ as Leo called it. I ate, somehow I ate, despite my dry mouth and tight throat. Every swallow was a stab reminding me that I was the reason we were in the fucking mess to begin with.
Leo wiped his mouth with a thin paper napkin. “Every possible scenario. Think this through. We only come out of there alive if we’ve got the advantage. That means mental, too. However they walk in there, they are expecting to have the upper hand or a surprise factor.”
“Goldie”—Anton nodded at me—“if they bring your cousin, you’re going to have to make a hard decision. I’m not making that for you.”
Jackson studied me from across the table, the mental voodoo the bossman and Leo had between them wasn’t working with us. But just in case Jackson had learned some Jedi mind tricks in the months he’d been with Leo and had broken into my brain, I changed the topic to him.
I lifted my fork and waved it up and down. “You look leaner.”
Jackson took the bait. “Aww. You miss my big muscles, Goldie?”
Truth was, I missed the chemistry the five of us had as a group. Leo had never respected Anton’s authority, but our dynamic had shifted when he’d left. For starters, no one had heard from him until he’d reached out to Jackson. Then…no fight, no contest. Jackson got to walk out of Covington and into Leo’s legit new word, zero fucking questions asked.
But sitting there, surrounded by the men I trusted with my life, the power and confidence between us soared. We were stronger together. With Leo and Jackson back, Jefferson didn’t stand a chance.
There was no question of physical. Jimmy would come with a gun. We would have to be smarter. Our calculations would need to sum up the situation in a fraction of a second. Consequential decisions would need to be made without remorse. It was go-time.
I played through all the moments when I’d caught my sparring partners off guard. They all shared the same common denominator. I’d only gotten the advantage when I’d done the unexpected.
Chapter Thirty
Marigold
My brain had turned to mud or mush or something equally dark and swampy. The odds were unfair. If I didn’t have my wits about me, I had nothing. Not only was the asshole next to me at a physical advantage, I could no longer rely on any intelligence I may have had.
Well played, Jefferson Manors.
We were back in the city. The honking, jackhammering and pollution was a loud and suffocating reminder that I had not flown away on a jet plane to Mexico or an equally sunny destination. My rash judgment had been faulty. If I hadn’t been drugged, I would have remembered to panic, to realize that I was in the hands of Covington Heights’ biggest enemy. I might have even been scared. But the buzz at the base of my brain seemed to be blocking emotions and intellect.
I was conscious enough to understand that the missing raindrops from the windshield meant we’d gone into a parking garage, and the two men from Jefferson Manors got out of the car. The horn beeped once, I suspected locking me in. I didn’t have the strength to test the handle. Hell, I didn’t have the strength to fully open my eyes.
Realizing I was alone—and perhaps in a bit of a holding pattern—I let go. I allowed the numb in my head carry me all the way into oblivion. I fell down a dark, deep hole and everything went black.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, but the beep of the horn startled me awake. The door opposite me opened and the cool air shot up my thighs. I adjusted myself as best as I could, tugging my dress lower and righting my posture. Any saliva I’d had was gone and my throat was like sandpaper. An ache in my temples throbbed and tensed.
The slam of the driver’s door woke me even more, the sound slapping me like an angry bitch.
“Yeah, you’ve been a very good girl,” the guy next to me purred into his phone. “I’m not even gonna share you tonight, baby. Fuck, you’re such a queen. I may never share you again. Stay home. This should be over in an hour.” He hung up as the SUV started, then handed me an energy drink. “Here. You’re going to need this. No tricks. Scout’s honor.” His evil grin said something else, but damn it if I wasn’t thirsty as hell.
I sheepishly took the thin can but just stared at it. Why would I trust that fucker? He’d already lied and drugged me.
He adjusted a bit in his seat an pulled out a gun from the back of his pants. “Or don’t drink it and die here.” He waved the gun in a small circle.
My chest clinched around my heart and I wasn’t sure it was beating. I’d seen a gun or two…but pointed at me? That was an incredibly sobering first.
Chills raced up my spine and I longed for the dark place from which I’d just awoken. He nudged the gun in my direction and I popped open the can. Sugar had never been so poisonous. Its venom coated my tongue and glazed my throat, spoiling any pleasure I’d ever had for overly sweet beverages.
“All of it. I need you alert.” His scrutinizing eyes were like dark holes leading to hell. Whatever he ‘needed’ me for was only buying time. He was going to kill me after he’d gotten what he’d wanted—maybe my money, maybe my body. It didn’t matter. My clock was ticking and I was as good as dead.
The realization washed over me and my mother’s voice echoed in my head. I’d done it to myself. I’d gone hunting for danger, I deserved what I was getting. I didn’t understand how to be dangerous in real life. I was a coward who hid behind a screen, tormenting strangers who never meant anything because they were random people or towns on the Internet. My reckoning had come, and as a tear rolled down my cheek, I wondered how my path had led me so fucking astray.
We pulled into an alley downtown and my capturer said, “Showtime,” with a devious grin. “Do what you’re told and maybe I’ll keep you around. I hear my girl is dying to scratch your eyes out. Could be fun to watch.”
The caffeine and sugar had me on high alert and it sounded a lot like if I just went along with whatever his plan was, he wouldn’t kill me. Yet. I exited the car, because what the hell else was I going to do? My only weapon was to think my way through. Screams and pleas weren’t going to get me anywhere with Jefferson Manors, of that I was sure.
The driver pulled out a handgun from the back of his pants and Jimmy stood at a door with a wicked smirk across his loathsome face.
“Ahh… M.” He took out his own gun—a gun he would use expertly. Fuck. As his eyes raked the length of me, a thousand spiders scattered over my skin. I prayed to any higher source that would listen for Rafael to still be tucked away in a jail cell. That, even though my planned had failed—miserably—the man I loved would not be harmed. Today.
Shit. If it went down badly for Covington, Rafa would be at the top of their list. I was such a fool, such a stupid, careless idiot. Why had I taken measures into my own hands? I was not like them.
“Mind if we keep this one alive?” Jimmy asked the guy next to me. “I’d like to see what all the fuss is about.”
“I’d say you deserve that.”
A perverted and altogether-hideous smile spread across Jimmy’s face. Death suddenly seemed like a very viable option.
Jimmy opened the door and walked down a dark hallway. The driver shoved me in front of him. We stopped as the guys from Jefferson Manors all nodded to each other. Jimmy wrapped his knuckles on an unmarked door.
From the other side, the unmistakable voice of the man I loved answered. “It’s open, bro.”
No.
My heart raced. Why wasn’t he in jail where I’d put him to keep him safe? Fucking Lisa. Worse—way fucking worse—why hadn’t she told them that it was a set-up? Nothing made sense. But I didn’t want to show my cards. I wasn’t sure what Jefferson knew or didn’t know, so I swallowed down all the emotion trying to stew up from my stomach.
Jimmy grinned and entered, followed by the guy I’d foolishly thought was going to give me a fake passport…then me, then the driver.
Rafa’s amber eyes clocked me and flashed something before jetting across the room where Anton and Scooter sat, guns pointed directly at the men from Jefferson and…me.
“Ah, you’re not as fucking stupid as we thought,” the head of Jefferson said, cocking his handgun and aiming it at Rafa. “Problem is, you spend all your time fighting. We go to target practice. Who’s got the shot, Jimmy?”
“Just Anton. The other two are harmless.” Jimmy sounded bored. Too fucking confident.
I tried like hell to get Rafa’s attention, but he wouldn’t look at me. His eyes were on Jimmy. Anton stared at the leader and Scooter at the driver. I was the only one clocking the entire room.
Jimmy jutted his chin in Rafa’s direction. “What’s a matter? Not even going to put up a fight for your girl?”
“Not my girl.”
If I hadn’t been surrounded by so many guns, I would have been sure a dagger had impaled my heart. I wasn’t his? He didn’t understand. Everything I’d done was for him. For us.
“No,” I pleaded. “I messed up.” Tears streamed down my cheeks and my knees buckled. “Please.” Jesus Christ, someone was going to die. Maybe we all would. “I have money. I can pay—”
The driver took his eyes off Scooter and said to me, “Shut the fuck up.”
Rafa finally looked at me and the hate he sent nearly knocked me over. “You know that thing you said earlier?” The snarl on his face was a side of him I’d never imagined possible.
I started to shake. He had it all wrong. I whimpered. Speaking was beyond me.
He said one more word and it was as cold as ice. “Same.”
Then everything went slow. Rafa raised his gun and pointed it directly at me. His index finger squeezed and a bullet crossed the room. There was a brief fraction of a second where I didn’t believe he’d shot me. But when heat and pain blasted in my thigh and crimson blood seeped out above my knee, I could no longer deny the reality in front of me.
I cried out as I fell to the floor. Hyper speed replaced the lethargic moment as gunshots echoed over my head in every direction. I clamped my eyes shut and prayed for Rafa’s safety.
