CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Only one person came to mind as being capable enough to pull off the cyberattacks, and while I hadn’t wanted to entertain the thought, we were at a standstill on how Tarasovich’s hacker had so easily ensnared our computers. They had to have tracked us the moment we stepped foot on foreign soil.
Petrov had checked in, solely to tell us he needed more time. The CIA was giving him a run for his money, and their surveillance hindered his movements more than he’d anticipated.
After three weeks of property hopping through Paride’s web of safe houses and rebuilding yet another computer while CJ and I brainstormed counterattacks and protocols to better protect ourselves, I was finally empty of excuses to leave my head buried in the sand.
I reached out to my father.
“It is a win-win scenario,” Jace consoled, standing over my shoulder as he watched me draft the email. “Think about it. Either he’s the guilty party, and he’ll know you’re onto him, or he’ll find out you’re in danger and try to help you out.”
“Well,” I began, “he’s never been protective before.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jace deadpanned. “You told me he’s been in contact with you since you were a child.”
I hit send. “Sure, as an anonymous hacker helping me get my feet wet.”
“Damsel,” he started, spinning my chair to face him, “the fact that you were so innocent when we first found you, despite the life you’d been raised in, tells me he looked out for you more than you think.”
I paused, considering that. “Well, there were a few times after my stepfather sold me when he tried to get me to divulge my location, but I hesitated to trust people at that point.”
Jace tucked my hair behind my ear. “If I could turn back the clock and kill someone—”
“Despite Drew Jensen’s actions, it made me into who I am today. As much as it might pain you to hear this, I never would have met you guys if it hadn’t been for him.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt. “What was his problem anyway? I mean, what level of fucked up do you have to reach to betray an innocent child?”
“My mom lied to him for years and tried to convince him he was my biological father, but apparently he had a vasectomy before their marriage. He must have gotten a paternity test at some point, and when the results came back…” I shrugged.
“He knew from the beginning?”
“Yeah. He had to. Not that he had a chance to confess before…” Before I pulled the trigger and killed him, naively hoping to save Natasia. “But looking back, I think he groomed me from an early age. Drew drove a wedge between my mom and me, and she let him because she felt guilty, thinking she was carrying around the weight of her secret infidelity. It was a miracle that my computer skills flourished, otherwise he might have sold me for different reasons. Drew brought me language books, and then later, audio programs—which was why he bought the computer—probably hoping I’d be able to communicate with whatever buyer he found. Not for pillow talk, but the men who purchase young girls relish the power of ordering—”
“Stop, please stop,” Jace pleaded, a pained expression marring his features. “I can’t. You’re too sweet for your own good, even now, but picturing the amplified sweetness of a toddler Callie? CJ has always drawn out my protective instincts, but with you, I act like a complete caveman. It’s a miracle that Aleks and Brock, whose norms are manly brutes, even let you step foot out of the house.”
“Live and let live. A gilded cage is still—” My computer dinged.
Jace glanced at the screen and snorted. “And you said he wasn’t that protective.”
I spun, seeing that I’d already gotten a reply from Callum, my father, and he’d opened up a line of secured communication.
WICKED_1: Tell me everything.
I rolled closer, typing my response under a masked username instead of my normal Byte-syzed moniker, because if Callum wasn’t behind this, someone else from my past was. It was the only explanation for how quickly our plans failed.
ANONYMOUS234932: You first. You’re the only one with all the know-how of my protocols to explain how we were tracked so fast after going dark.
His text box remained empty for a long time before he finally sent something.
WICKED_1: I am aware, considering your life, that it may not seem like it, but I do care about you. I’d sooner chew off my own fingers than let anyone coerce me into terrorizing you.
Jace’s brows shot up. “Graphic, but it sounds sincere. What do you think?”
ANONYMOUS234932: Do you have any ideas on who it could be?
ANONYMOUS234932: They know my every move before it happens, so it has to be someone I’ve come across.
WICKED_1: Perhaps, though I thought I shielded you from most of the online hacker community.
My jaw dropped.
“Ha!” Jace crowed, pointing at the response. “I told you!”
ANONYMOUS234932: But not everyone. You’re not the only person I’ve chatted with online.
WICKED_1: No, but I vetted most of those.
Casual as could be, he was going to drop that bombshell on me?
Jace shook his head at my wide-eyed expression. “Damn, Damsel. It’s like you were living out The Truman Show.”
I huffed and nudged his arm.
WICKED_1: Have you picked up any stalkers in real life? Maybe you’ve run across someone with the capabilities and didn’t realize it.
ANONYMOUS234932: Stalkers besides Meatgrinder? Not that I know of.
Jace frowned. “Why’d you call Tarasovich that?”
“Because he’s already proven his pet hacker is more than competent, and any computer guru worth his salt would have released a sniffer on the dark web, scanning shady connections like this. Very few people know his actual name, but countless corrupt people solicit his services using that moniker.”
“Ah,” Jace said, used to interpreting CJ’s technical jargon. “So like when Voldemort placed the taboo curse on his name because he realized only the rebels would be using it?”
“Um, sure?” I hadn’t seen any Harry Potter. There was a lot of media for me to catch up on.
WICKED_1: Wait, is he the one giving you a hard time right now?
Jace snickered for some reason.
ANONYMOUS234932: Yes.
Callum’s reply was almost instantaneous.
WICKED_1: Give me everything you have—I know you have a file on him—then send me your coordinates using the same system Veseli did with you.
“You’re going to catch flies doing that, luv,” Payton commented as a group of them returned from a supply run. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing,” Jace replied. “She’s just now realizing how overprotective and unhinged people can get around her.”
I tuned them out while Jace caught the others up.
ANONYMOUS234932: Why do you need my location?
WICKED_1: For one, I’m going to flag any computers in a one-hundred-mile radius of you that use certain key patterns based on a database of hacker styles I’ve compiled.
My eyes bugged out, but the more I thought about it, the more genius the idea became. Hackers and computer programmers did have their own language, so to speak. That was brilliant. If he’d studied their keyboard patterns over the years, that…
I gasped. “That could be how they tracked us,” I explained when the others glanced my way.
Before I could interrogate Callum about sharing that list, he’d already sent another message that derailed my train of thought entirely.
WICKED_1: And then I’m meeting you there.
Paride had supplied my father with the coordinates to a run-down pair of campers parked in the middle of nowhere—our current destination.
Payton cursed and swore, grabbing onto the handle above his window as the beater car bounced through a shallow creek that bisected the road. He winced when another set of low-hanging branches drug across the roof of the vehicle. “Careful.”
Duane cast him a bemused glance from the driver’s seat. “What do you care? This isn’t even our car, and we more than compensated the owner, so it’s not like we have to return it in its original condition.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Payton snapped.
“Woo-hoo! This is fun,” Corbin crowed, bumping into me on accident.
Brock shoved him off me. “Stop fucking around. You’re going to get someone hurt.”
“Whoa, cool your jazzy jets, caveman. Callie was smiling.”
That wasn’t entirely true. The pit in my stomach hadn’t subsided in the four days since sharing our future location with my dad. Since then, my brain’s favorite pastime was playing out how this meeting would go in increasingly disastrous, albeit creative ways.
Still, I let Corbin use me as an arguing point since Brock’s protective instincts had been on high alert as well.
Corbin’s white lie worked to soothe his ruffled feathers and avoid a scuffle breaking out in the back seat of the cramped five-person car.
“Are we almost there?” Corbin asked after four entire seconds of silence.
“For the dozenth time, Corbin, no, we aren’t there yet,” Duane answered, navigating around a particularly large, low-hanging branch. “Just keep looking out your window and stop bothering Brock.”
After ten more harrowing minutes, where Payton gritted his teeth and fought his need to nitpick Duane’s driving, the thick German vegetation gave way to a small clearing big enough to house the campers and nothing else.
As I watched, the door popped open on one, and my father stepped out. I’d only seen the man once. I hadn’t paid much attention then, since Ivanov had thrown down the gauntlet with his ultimatum—kill my stepdad who’d betrayed me or do nothing and watch Natasia die. Oh, and not to mention the small fact that I hadn’t known the random hacker was my long-lost father.
Ivanov had needed a team on his payroll to stay two steps ahead of me. I’d cockily assumed that I was just that hard to replace, but in reality, the man in front of me had probably infiltrated Ivanov’s ranks to sabotage his efforts to find me.
I’d inherited my dark hair and computer smarts from him, and though he was the shortest man here, my mom was also height challenged, so it was hard to say who had “blessed” me with that particular gene.
A frown marred his features the closer we got.
“Look, Callie, that must be where you get your pouty face,” Corbin teased.
If I didn’t know he hated tension and was trying to ease the mood, I would have shot him the glare that comment deserved.
Before either of the stolen cars rolled to a complete stop, my dad had already marched down the rusted foldout steps and started across the overgrown grass.
Duane put the car in park. “Well, this looks fun.”
“Yeah,” Corbin agreed, leaning over my lap to stare out Brock’s window. “You reckon that anger is from Parade Day hoodwinking him into showing up here two days before us, or because he knows we’re all boinking his daughter?”
“Mr. Tate,” Payton admonished.
“What? You’re lumped in that group as well now, Mr. E,” Corbin reminded him.
“Damn,” Duane said after a beat. “Corbin’s right. This is our first time meeting her dad.”
If I hadn’t been right here, I’d have overlooked the change. Their attitudes shifted minutely. They sat up straighter, squared their shoulders a bit more, and—for Brock and Corbin—increased the space between us.
I blinked at them. “What are you guys doing?”
Duane turned. “We have to put our best foot forward, babygirl.”
Corbin booped me on the nose. “Yeah, Callie-Cat. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything. This is man stuff.”
I arched my brow at him. “He won’t give you some shotgun speech, alright? This is my second time being in the same place as him.”
“Yeah, but Jace explained how much he shielded you when you were a kid, so he obviously cares, du?o.” Brock slipped out, offering to help me from the car.
My eyes traveled from the palm of his hand up to his serious expression. It was tempting to deny the chivalry. They were acting as if our entire relationship hinged on the approval of a man I’d never spoken five words to in person, and that made me feel like a possession. Then again, they always held doors open for me and treated me with respect. If they wanted to make a good impression, then more power to them.
“Thanks,” I murmured, sliding along the seat.
“Two days!” someone yelled, their voice smooth but angry.
Paride quickly countered the accusation with, “I don’t know you from Adam. Of course we’d sniff you out before stepping into a potential trap!”
My dad paused. “Fine, but why cut communication? I had nothing to do but sit in that moldy excuse of a camper and picture my daughter suffering through every single death outlined in that godforsaken file she sent about that monster.”
“I promise you, that wasn’t our intention, sir,” Jace interrupted. “Our intentions were to do what was best for Callie.”
Sir? my mind repeated, glancing at the straightlaced expression on the usually sarcastic, amused man. I had to do a double take to make sure my twin-radar hadn’t led me astray.
Callum, since “Dad” seemed too personal to describe the virtual stranger, glanced at me, deflating the inch or two he’d gained with his inflated ire. “Well, unfortunately, that means I haven’t been able to contact you either. I think I found another property connected to Tarasovich.”
My feet took an unconscious step forward. “What? Where? What did I miss?”
His blue eyes traced my features long enough for me to inch away and shift my weight. “I’m sorry, it’s just surreal. When I initially decided to reach out to you, I never dreamed I’d be interacting with you as anything other than some benevolent stranger on the internet, but here you are, in person.” He shook his head. “Listen to me, making things uncomfortable. Ignore me. I’ll adjust in no time, and you’re brilliant, Callie. You didn’t miss any details. Only you would have connected the dots after knowing about the trapped apartment in Serbia, and I reckon you’ve been too busy rebuilding a safer computer to dig too much into that incident just yet.”
“But you did,” I surmised.
Callum spread his arms wide. “Look at this place. I’ve had nothing but time. Come in. I’ll show you what I found, and then we can hit the road because I’m a little sick of these metal coffins.” He turned and glanced at Paride. “I’ll put some coffee on.”
Jace’s elbow nudged my arm as he stooped down and whispered, “Check it out. He has your quiet moxie, Damsel.”
With the way Callum addressed the property’s owner as if he himself were the one hosting company? Yeah, I’d have to agree.
Who knew?
Another thing we had in common.