Chapter 12 #2
“Hi,” I croak.
She starts crying.
“Hey, don’t cry,” I whisper, squeezing her hands. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.”
“Semantics.”
She laughs through tears and holds my hand a little tighter.
For a while, we just sit there, holding hands, letting a few more tears fall. Then the question burns its way out of me before I can stop it.
“What happened to…him?”
The crease she’s had between her brows since I woke up deepens. “The man who kidnapped you?” she asks carefully.
I nod.
“He’s dead, sweetie.”
The room goes silent.
“Good,” I say.
The word is thick in my throat, making me feel sick, but it’s the one word that makes sense if nobody knows what he actually meant to me.
My voice may be steady, but everything else is not. Everything inside me is shattering and crumbling, and I wonder how long it’ll be until I’m made of nothing but ash and dust.
But that’s what I’m expected to say, right? I’m supposed to be thankful that the man who kidnapped me and held me hostage is gone, like it’s some kind of justice. Like I’m supposed to sleep easier at night knowing he can’t hurt me. Can’t control me. Can’t touch me.
When, in truth, all I want is to go back in time so I can feel his touch again.
My mom squeezes my hand, dragging me back from the pit I was spiraling into.
“I’m so sorry you went through that, Case. I should never have—”
“Don’t, Mom. It’s not even a little bit your fault.”
“I’m not leaving,” she says suddenly. “I won’t move. I’ll stay here. With you.”
I shake my head and give her a smile that I know still looks sad. “No, you need to go. You already sold the house. You have a job lined up. I’m honestly surprised you’re still here.”
“Are you really?”
“Okay, no. Not surprised. But I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had left. It’s what you’ve wanted for a long time, and you deserve it.”
“I deserve to have you safe.”
“I will be now. I promise.”
Felix meows, the sound dragging me out of my head, memories fading out of focus.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Same.”
It’s been a few weeks since I first started working for Harrison Copeland, which is exactly long enough for me to regret every life choice that led me here and also not long enough to quit because the money is obscene.
Obscene enough to keep my servers breathing, to buy hardware I can’t explain to anyone sane.
So, morally questionable or not, I keep showing up.
Here I am, standing in the lobby of his stupidly expensive building again.
Not only did I set up cameras in his condo, he also paid me to plant bugs around Lane so he could keep an eye on him. Camera in his house. Listening devices in his car and his school bag. And, of course, Lane had no idea.
That wasn’t my finest moment.
But whatever. I don’t feel as guilty about it as I probably should. Guilt is expensive, and I can’t afford to start developing a conscience every time a job makes my skin crawl.
The elevator ride is smooth and silent. I adjust my glasses out of habit, then the shoulder strap of my messenger bag that’s full of things that would make several federal agencies extremely interested in me.
The doors open into Harrison’s condo, and I step out to see Harrison once again standing by his wet bar. Suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, pouring himself Scotch like he’s in a commercial for brooding billionaires with secrets.
Neither of us say a word as I pull the scanner from my bag and start sweeping the room.
The device beeps steadily as I move through his condo.
Walls, fixtures, vents, windows. Hidden places.
It’s just an extra precaution, and I take my time to be super thorough because I’ve learned just how crazy the motherfucker he’s up against can be.
When I finally finish, I return the scanner to my bag.
“Got an update for you, boss.” I stop a few feet away and stare at the glass in his hand. Then at him. Then back to the glass. “Not going to offer me one?”
He stares, unblinking, and takes a sip.
I huff. “Fine. Rude.”
I walk past him and drop onto his couch like I pay rent. “Guess it’s too much to ask for the sexy, scary old man to get me drunk.”
Deep down, I’ll always have a type.
“Old?” He glares at me over the rim of his glass as he comes to stand on the other side of the coffee table. “You’re lucky I’m still paying you after how long I’ve been waiting.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I open my laptop. “I’m about to make it worth your while.”
I start typing, shaking my hair back from my face. Harrison doesn’t sit. Just looms, drinks, and radiates murderous impatience. Honestly, it’s kind of impressive.
Right before I’m sure he’s going to reach his breaking point, I turn the laptop toward him. Code floods the screen, and he stares.
“I’m a neuroscientist, Cason. Not a goddamn cybercriminal. What the fuck am I looking at?”
“It’s Case,” I say automatically. My face falls, and I swivel the laptop back. “It’s a program I’ve been working on.”
For longer than I’ve known him, longer than this job. Harrison isn’t the reason I built it, but he’s the reason I might finally be able to finish it.
“And this couldn’t have been done over the phone? Because you know damn well I wouldn’t know what that is by looking at it. So why are you here?”
“Because I don’t even trust burner phones for this.”
That gets his attention, and he goes quiet. As I run another update, he moves back to his wet bar and pours another Scotch. With the glass in his hand, he crosses the room and sits at a small table with a chess set like a villain in a movie.
“Explain.”
I glance up. “Right. This program is going to shut down the entire dark web.”
“Excuse me?”
“Okay, that’s an exaggeration. No one can shut down the dark web. But this will be the next best thing.”
He blinks, waiting.
“And it’ll only be temporary.”
“How temporary?”
I purse my lips, tilting my head side to side as I do some mental math. “Three minutes? Maybe four.”
“That’s not enough time.”
It’s a guess, but it’s a good one.