Chapter 18
chapter eighteen
look at her go
“We got something!”
That was the happiest I’d heard Oscar sound in weeks.
Not only had we had a few more breaches since the last batch, but this stalker situation with Cora was really starting to get to him. To both his sanity and his ego.
I got out of my chair quicker than I ever had and headed around to his side of the office, turning into a jog as I reached him, my hand gripping the back of his chair. “Show me.”
He angled his head over his shoulder for barely a second before clicking on a tab that turned his whole screen into code view, a million green pixels filling it up. A few clicks later, and a few coding techniques that were completely lost on me, and a map showed up.
Before I could ask, Oscar cleared his throat.
“I got a hold of the IP address this asshole was using to get into our systems, but whatever software they’re using is good.
Better than good.” He scrolled, and the map zoomed in.
“Because all it was able to spit out was a general location for where the hits were taking place.”
“Where?” I demanded, mentally clawing at the edge of my seat.
“Impatient much?” Oscar grunted. But one glare from me and he was scrolling, zooming in on the map, and, for some reason, he was moving away from the US.
Before I could voice my questions, the screen was taken up by a map of the UK, his flashing red tracker blinking in its capital.
“London?” I asked, my voice slathered with confusion.
Oscar nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” He turned around, my hand letting go of the chair as he faced me. “Who the fuck do we know in London that doesn’t like us?”
I wandered back, my hands locking at the back of my head as I paced. “The only organisations I know and we work with are Sotaria and Aegis.” My brows knitted. “But I know Harry, we’ve done him so many favours with Sotaria that it couldn’t possibly be him. He doesn’t seem the type to. He’s too—”
“Boring.” Oscar interrupted.
“Sensible.” I corrected.
He shrugged. “If you call elbow pads and relying on the Armarnas software sensible, then sure, let’s go with sensible.”
I rolled my eyes as my feet took me to the windows, my eyes tracing the skyline and the fierce sun glare bouncing off the buildings before turning to face him. “And Cian’s wife and their little girls are some of our clients. Aegis and them mean too much to him to risk.”
“Unless she’s in on it. The wife. The call could be coming from inside the house, if you know what I mean.”
I weighed up his words as I sank back into my chair, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ll look into it, but it’s not likely.”
Oscar shrugged, turning back to do some digging. “This fucker could be anyone or anywhere; we can’t not investigate everything.” His clicks became more frantic. “I just wish we didn’t have to.”
“Dude, take a breath. Relax.”
His head sank into his hands, that brotherly instinct to lay a palm at the base of his neck, settling him, taking over. “I’m sorry. I’m just annoyed I haven’t solved this yet. I feel like I’m letting you down.”
My grip tightened with reassurance, head dipping to catch his eyes. “You’re not. Trust me. If anything, I should be apologising. I wish I had more time to help. But Cora’s a 24/7 thing now. Especially with the fucker that’s still stalking her.”
Oscar sat up. “Fuck, I didn’t tell you yet?”
My body went cold. “Tell me what?”
He clicked out of the code view and worked his way onto software that looked familiar. Within no time, he had up another map, an aerial view of lower Manhattan, with another blinking red dot on a street in Chelsea.
He turned to face me, his arm stretched out towards the screen. “Meet Cora’s stalker.”
My eyes went wide, face dropping completely. “You found them?”
“Last night.” He nodded. “It slipped my mind this morning when the London thing came up, but we have them. Or at least the most frequent address from where the texts were sent.”
I leaned closer, looking over the screen, trying to explore every part of my brain in the hopes of something making sense. But there was nothing.
“I’ll handle it,” I assured him, clapping him on the back as I looked down at my watch. “Look, I’ve got to go. But thank you. This is going to be a massive help.”
He stretched back, his arms locking behind his head. “You wanted my help for a reason.” He chuckled. “I’ll keep at it with the London thing. Maybe a trip is in order.”
I hummed. “Maybe.”
The sun was even fiercer outside, and for someone whose wardrobe was entirely black, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. I didn’t know how Cora did it. But then again, I didn’t know if our relationship was at the friendly point of sharing tips.
We’d made strides in our dynamic, sure, but nothing that significant.
But as I said that, the memories of our weekend training session skimmed the edges of my mind as I climbed up the steps to her place.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, something happened that day.
I was looking at her, really looking. And for once, I saw more than just a girl who was scared of being vulnerable.
I saw more than fire that glimmered every time she was snarky with me.
I watched her forget to be afraid for once and just listen to herself.
I saw a version of her that I’d had a hard time shaking from my memory these past couple of days. A version that every time I thought about it, my pulse jumped.
And that was getting pretty fucking hard not to admit.
That familiar rapid jumping was picking up the faster my feet moved, my heart near to bursting as I knocked on the door and waited for the hinges to creak.
I blamed the heat on my palms being sweaty. Because why the fuck else would they be sweaty? I’d knocked on this door multiple times. It’s just the heat. It had to be.
Luckily, the pink thing creaked open before I could spiral further, and because my day was just getting better and better, the other English one answered the door.
“What do you want?” the kid asked, one hand resting on the door frame like he was posing for another album shoot.
I blinked. “What do you think I want? What do I only knock on this door for?”
His grin was every bit as smarmy as he shrugged. “Dunno, mate. I’ve never opened the door to you before.”
I sighed, my palms tightening. “Is she here?”
“Who?” Tristan asked without missing a beat, head tilting.
“You know who.”
The guy shrugged, looking dumbfounded. “There are four girls who live here, mate; be a bit more specific.”
My grip was tight on the door frame, ready to barge past. “Just move, you Hot Topic mannequin—”
“Marcus!” a sweet voice chirped before I could politely knock all six feet of Tristan out of the way, and when I focused my eyes, I recognised the face.
I nodded, the hard parts of my face softening. “Daisy.”
Her smile was pure sunshine as she beckoned me in. “Come in, join the land of working AC.”
Tristan gave me one last glare before cutting behind Daisy and plummeting to the couch, setting his guitar back across him. “Working thanks to this guy,” he said, pointing at himself.
I rolled my eyes right at him.
Daisy laughed. “You handed Jess the tools, Trist. But it’s nice to have you here I guess.
” She giggled, in that sweet way Cora always described her.
Her pale green eyes were back on me, her hands stuffed into her jean short pockets.
“Cora is here but…” She drawled off before stepping closer, her voice hushed.
“I walked past her room before and she was… painting.”
My heart skipped.
“Painting?” I repeated, my voice croaky.
Daisy’s face screwed up. “Well, it looked like she was about to. She had her curtains drawn, headphones on and all her paints lined up with a brush in her hand. And from how loud she had her music, I could tell it was Lily Allen, and she only ever listens to her when she’s painting.”
I cast my eyes to the stairs; the image of her all I could see.
“I’d approach with caution.” Daisy stole back my attention. “Wouldn’t want to spook her.”
I listened to every word she wasn’t saying. Then nodded. “Thank you, Daisy.”
She dished me a sweet smile before wandering off to join Tristan, a mess of song sheets clutched in her arms as she sat beside him.
I wandered to the bottom of the stairs.
“Since when are we being nice to him?” I heard Tristan whisper, but I didn’t let him know I’d heard.
Instead, I crept up the stairs as I carefully heard Daisy ask him if he’d heard.
What that was, I wasn’t sure, because I was halfway up the stairs and had only one person I wanted to pay attention to right now.
I made it to the landing, muscle memory taking me to her room, and through the crack in the open door, there she was.
It was just like Daisy had described. She was cross-legged on the floor, a long wooden brush in her hand, the end dipped in what could have been any dark colour. Her headphones sat over her unbrushed waves, stopping just before the base of her neck. The faint hum from her music filled the hallway.
And before I realised it, I was smiling.
It was rare these days, I’ll admit. Something really had to cheer me up for me to forget the voices, forget the noise and the stress and just enjoy what was in front of me. And right now, seeing her forget her noise and simply try to find a piece of herself again, it made me happy.
I watched her, tentatively, and when she finally lifted the brush to the bare canvas, I held my breath, not wanting anything to ruin this moment for her. And then she did it. The tip of the brush marked the canvas in a dark blue stroke, creating nothing and everything all at once.
It was moving, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the last time pride buzzed through me like it was doing now.