Chapter 2 #2
Hacking was more restful than trying to sleep under those conditions, so I dived deeper than I’d ever gone.
I hit pay dirt after I started cyber-stalking the remaining Unredeemables, when I intercepted messages between Darius, Amos and Remy Drake about placing someone in a prison.
No names were mentioned, but I used facial recog to direct my search of mugshot databases, and bingo, I’d found him in the Kalaharee Correctional Facility For Men, under a fake name.
Accused of first degree murder, held without bail, and still awaiting trial, according to the Kalaharee database.
I had no clue why he was there, and I didn’t really care. All I wanted was to find who had taken Shane, so I could grind those fuckers into fine pink paste.
Including Jed himself. And the Drakes, too, for siding with Jed. I’d never forgive them for that. Selling my brother out, for money?
I hadn’t shared my findings with Ethan, since he never shared his with me. Bitter experience had taught me that going my own way was simpler than arguing with a hyper-protective, know-it-all big brother, and I was wasting no more time.
I had patience. I could remote-work from space, or the bottom of the ocean.
I had bottomless reserves of motivation.
I could travel to the prison on visiting days for as long as I needed to.
Build a relationship with him. Have long, winding conversations with him.
Have phone sex with him. Declare my undying love.
Make him dependent on me emotionally. Or on Sandee.
It was important to keep Freya and Sandee very separate. Distinct.
And who knew? Something might come of it, eventually.
Of course, it was tissue-paper-thin, as plans went. The only thing that could be said for it was that it was something, not nothing. I had to do something, or I’d snap.
So far, Jed had only sent me a single brief reply to her letters, before finally agreeing to see me. A sheet of yellow legal paper, and a bold, brief penciled scrawl.
Sandee,
Thanks for the photos. You’re very pretty and you seem like a nice girl, but you’re wasting your time with me. Find someone who will treat you right. Don’t settle.
Good luck,
James Craig
The hell? It was the kind of thing a good guy might have written. To an idiot. Using small words. Where the hell did he get off, acting decent and principled? It was a lie, and it pissed me off. Condescending, too. Who the hell did he think he was?
He’d had practice pretending to be a good guy. Years of it. He’d fooled Ethan and Shane. My brothers were not stupid.
So far, I hadn’t seen recognition on his face, but this guy was impossible to read. I fluttered my eyelash extensions. Good thing Jed had never paid much attention to me back in the day. He sure was paying attention now, though.
Toughen up. Play the part. I gave my bleached locks a flirtatious toss.
I’d paid big bucks for this style. The platinum color, the bold cut that half-covered my face.
A choppy, punky look that took a good thirty points off my IQ.
Very different from my usual messy ash-blonde is-it-a-ponytail-or-is-it-a-bun.
I might have overdone the vampy vibe a little, but it was in keeping with the racy selfies I’d printed out for him.
And I needed to look as different as possible from the Freya Masters he might or might not remember.
That shy, chubby geek teenager with the braces, the zits, and the frizz.
A sharp crack made me jump. A shrill wail followed. A tired-looking woman sitting nearby had lost her patience and smacked her little boy, who’d been snorkling tear-snot the whole time I had been sitting near him.
I looked back at Jed’s hooded, watchful eyes, struggling to breathe. A smile curved his sensual lips. My face was clammy. I was letting him psych me out. Stop it. The guy was neutralized. Shackled behind layers of fucking steel and plexi-glass.
He had no power over me. He was fucking harmless.
His gaze raked my body, and I shrank back. My intense awareness of him made my skin tingle and flush. My face must have turned cherry red in a hot instant.
Get a grip, Masters. The truth about Shane was in that man’s head, and there were only so many ways to extract it.
Beating it out of him would have been my first choice, but that option was out of bounds, probably for the next twenty years or so, minimum.
The prison actually protected him from me. Lucky man.
That left the option of seducing him into telling me.
It might just work. He’d be lonely. He had no family to visit him. He’d be bored, restless, starved for female attention, and I would be so undemanding and sweet and welcoming and wonderful to him. I would understand him so well.
If it took twenty years, I would still be there every visiting day I could manage, waiting for some crumbs of truth to slip out of him. I would never lose interest. My statute of limitations would never end. I would never give up on Shane.
I lifted my chin. Put my shoulders back, sticking out my tits to showcase the nipple hard-on to best effect, and smiled.
Big deep breath…and showtime.