Mischief (Circuit Book 2)

by Lacey Dailey

  A bunch of badass motherfuckers with fingers that moved faster than light.

  The reason we became a part of Circuit was different for all of us, but the reason we kept coming was exactly the same.

  Circuit changed lives. It saved lives.

  Circuit was responsible for some of the biggest cyber takedowns of all time. There was absolutely nothing we couldn’t hack into. We put our noses up the NSA’s ass on the daily and they still couldn’t find us. Maybe I was being cocky, or maybe I was just confident that no matter what federal system we hacked into, I was safe. Despite hacking being a giant fucking no-no in the eyes of the law, I’d never once second-guessed my place on the Circuit board.

  A lot of people associated hacking with politics and shit. Exposing political parties and trying to get the President impeached or whatever. That was not what Circuit was about. I liked to consider us vigilantes. Anti-Heroes. The bad guys who pissed off the good guys because we were better than them. We were faster than them, and we had one hell of a villain takedown record.

  I despised the definition that considered hacking a misuse of technology. Whoever the hell created that definition was one ignorant asshole who wasn’t privy to all that Circuit did. Was it a misuse of technology to expose pedophiles and send them to prison? Was it a misuse to track down the whereabouts of illegally purchased weapons? Was it a misuse to takedown a world-renowned drug ring? Was it a fucking misuse to save Sage Maddison from one of the most notorious drug lords in the country?

  I didn’t think so.

  Hacking was illegal, there was no single doubt about that, but everybody inside this organization would eat their left arm before admitting it was wrong. The hacktivists that made up Circuit were just a giant family of nerd bombers, willing to sacrifice everything to save the world. And if that wasn’t worth keeping a secret, I sure as shit didn’t know what was.

  “Ace!” I rolled my head to find Wren, sipping his soda and staring at his computer screen. “You remember that billionaire man we took down a few weeks ago? Gio Catalano?"

  “I remember everybody we send to the slammer, dude.”

  Catalano was some asshole in DC who thought it’d be fun to steal people’s social security numbers and open new accounts in their name. Draining people of every last penny was a special kind of evil. It’s true what they say. Money does make the world go around, and if you don’t have it, your world comes to an abrupt stop. That man wasn’t just destroying lives. He was taking them away. So, naturally, Circuit had no choice but to step in.

  “What about him?” August shouted, rolling his desk chair across the concrete floor. He stopped directly in front of Wren’s desk, attempting to peer at his screen.

  Wren was grinning. “He was sentenced to life in prison.”

  “Fuck yeah he was!” Zelda whooped, slamming her fists on her desk. Her keyboard shook with the force of the hit as she flashed us a smug smirk. “Circuit, fifty-million. Asshole billionaires, zero.”

  I reached behind me and pounded her fist, doing the same to August and Wren. If the rest of the squad were here already, I’d pound it out with them too. We didn’t do much more celebrating than that. We never had time to go for a beer or order a pizza or bake a cake that said, “hell yeah, bitches”. Residing only fourteen miles away from DC meant there was always someone to expose or takedown.

  Crime slept for no one.

  Which was odd to think about, considering we were all criminals too, staying up into the wee hours of the night, living off adrenaline and whatever snack Sage brought us. I had a day job to help pass the time and make the money, but in the end, it was all about the little blond hacker I became over a decade ago.

  The name that derived from the ample number of times I got my ass spanked by my mother for doing something reckless. The number of times I got sentenced to detention or suspended for doing shit I definitely knew I shouldn’t have. I used to live off the thrill I’d get from pulling pranks or wreaking havoc in places that required silence. My mom learned pretty quickly that kid Ace should never have been allowed inside a library or a church.

  Hell. Adult Ace probably shouldn’t be allowed either. Though he was less likely to tip over an entire case of books or almost light a church pew on fire. But I mean, really, who gives a child like me an open flame?

  People who didn’t know I had Mischief lingering in me, that’s who.

  Back in those days, Mischief only came out to play occasionally. Now, Mischief was with me every damn day. Who he was and what he stood for gave me all my power. It drove me. Kept my processor running.

  Mischief gave me a high so powerful, I felt like I was floating. There was no other entity in the universe that affected me the same way changing the world did. Nothing that made me this at peace or provided me so much comfort while still shooting adrenaline in my veins.

  Mischief gave me a purpose like nothing else in life did.

  A lot of the Circuit squad created their names based off people they wished to be. Wren called himself Specter after a superhero from a comic book. But I wasn't striving to be a hero. I didn’t create Mischief based on a man I wanted to be; I created him based on who I already was. Circuit was a place where it was okay to make a little mischief. Where it was encouraged. It was an outlet. A place I felt superhuman. I left Circuit every night only to find my hair wild, pupils dilated, hands shaking, and a dopey grin plastered across my face. As if I were a drug addict who’d just gotten a major fix of the good stuff.

  “Ace, holy fuck, bro!” August slid past me and flicked my earlobe. “Answer your damn phone. Where the hell is your brain at? It’s been going off for like five minutes.”

  I could not be held responsible for zoning out the rest of the world while I was sitting in my chair and my fingers were arched on a keyboard. I hadn’t even done anything yet, and I was already so far gone I couldn’t hear my phone ringing.

  I shook my head and looked down at my vibrating phone. It was jumping all over the hard plastic of my desk, sliding toward the edge. I grabbed it before it hit the cement floor.

  The phone buzzed the moment something in my chest did too. All it took was the sight of his name. Five letters flashing on my phone to turn me into a liar.

  With just the sight of his name, I was reminded that as long as Brett Maddison existed, Mischief wasn’t the only thing that made me feel like I could fly.

  2

  Ace

  When I was a kid, I had a giant ass crush on Orlando Bloom. It was borderline unhealthy. I bought any merchandise I came across that held his gorgeous face and raven hair. I acquired all the Pirates of the Caribbean posters I possibly could and scribbled out Keira Knightley’s face with a mega-sized Sharpie. According to twelve-year-old Ace Jackson, Orlando Bloom was totally into dudes and willing to wait until I was legal and the throes of puberty had passed.

  The older I got, the more I realized something so terrible I destroyed all my posters in a burning ceremony in which I cursed Orlando Bloom and roasted marshmallows over his imaginary burning flesh.

  That pirate slaying fucker did not wait for me.

  But alas, I still loved him. Because even though he started dating a world-renowned supermodel with a glorious tan, he taught me something vital.

  Not all pre-pubescent tween boys had crushes on other boys. And that right there was why I’d still marry Orlando Bloom when he came to his senses and realized my fan mail from thirteen years ago was not creepy, but actually super adorable.

  Orlando Bloom and my secret crush was the catalyst that sparked my discovery into ‘boys are hotter than girls land’. I was a hard chest, broad-shouldered, and rough stubble kind of guy. Girls just didn’t get my motor running, and the older I got, the more I started to realize my crush on Orlando Bloom was less about his looks and more about the fact he had no idea I existed and was definitely not a cradle robber.

  He was unreachable. Unavailable. Undeniably gorgeous and while I could fawn all over him from afar, we would never ac
tually be a thing.

  And that was totally fine. I'd met a lot of cool dudes I hit it off with in the last five years of my adult life. I'd even been in a relationship once. I was totally over Orlando Bloom and lusting over dudes I couldn’t have.

  Then I met Brett Maddison– my new Orlando Bloom.

  “Dude, if you keep staring at him, he is gonna notice.”

  I shrugged and yanked another Red Vine from the bag I held. “Nah, he won’t. I’m subtle.”

  Wren barked a laugh. “Ace, you do not know what subtle is. You can’t even handle a phone call without turning red.”

  “You lie.”

  “I do not lie. August and Zelda witnessed it last night when he called to tell you he locked himself out. Your face was redder than my ass after I take a hot shower.”

  I faked a gag. “My face shouldn’t even be in the same realm as your ass.”

  Wren shoved his hand in my candy bag and stuffed an entire Red Vine in his mouth. “Whatever you say, Ace.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “Brett’s just moving into your apartment exactly one week after he mentioned hating living at his parent’s.”

  “So?”

  “So, you’ve been there for him since the day you met him. Literally. Quit making jokes about your feelings, man. You like Brett.”

  “The fuck you talking about?” I gave him a look that told him I wasn’t buying into the bullshit brother thing he did when he wanted me to spill my guts. “I gave him a spare room to stay in. That’s it.”

  “The fuck you talking about?” He shot back. “Ace, from the second you met Brett, you stood next to him and paid attention to him when nobody else did.”

  “He needed a friend.” I cringed at the way Wren tried to pay me a compliment. Like I earned some sort of medal for being a decent human being. Stepping in to hold Brett was no hardship, and I didn’t suspect it would ever become one. I saw he needed someone, and that was that. It was like a voice in my head. An underlying feeling that told me I needed to be that someone. Brett’s someone.

  “He’s my boo bear,” I teased, trying to shake off all the crap Wren just dumped on me. “Of course I’m there for him.”

  “Holy hell.” He choked on a Red Vine and shook his head. “You need to stop calling him that. He’s gonna find out.”

  “Nah, he won’t. I’ll smack the freckles right off your face if you tell him.”

  “This is becoming unhealthy.”

  “Orlando Bloom,” I said.

  “Orlando Bloom?” His brows pulled together above his glasses before realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit. You’re comparing your childish crush on Orlando Bloom to your crush on Brett?”

  “Holy fuck, you loud ass ginger! Keep your voice down!” I peered at Brett but he hadn’t heard a word. He was across the room, rummaging through a bunch of boxes he still hadn’t unpacked.

  “Those two aren’t even comparable, Ace!”

  “You’re right,” I mumbled. “Brett’s hotter.”

  The man I referred to as boo bear would be better suited as a grizzly bear. I watched him scratch the thick stubble on his cheek while he peered down into a box. His jeans tightened around his thick thighs when he squatted down to search for whatever he was looking for. I was no stranger to the way his T-shirt pulled taut across his chest or his wide shoulders. When he stood back up and cocked his hips in obvious frustration, it struck me how tall he was. Taller than me by at least six inches, and I was no shorty. The locks he blew from his face reminded me of a jar of honey. It drizzled across his forehead every time a few stray locks in the front threatened to fall into his eyes and block his vision.

  If I'd had a poster of Brett back then, Orlando would’ve become average.

  “His looks were not what I meant,” Wren sighed beside me. “I meant that Orlando Bloom was never gonna happen. But Brett is—"

  “Never gonna happen either,” I finished.

  “How do you know?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “Because he’s my best friend.”

  Wren's eyes disappeared into the back of his head. “And Sage is my best friend, yet I’m still happily dating her.” He turned toward me, propping his shoulder against the wall. “Dating your best friend is like a thing now. You’re supposed to be friends with the people you’re in love with.”

  “Nobody said nothing about love. And if that were true, you and I would have been dating forever ago.”

  “Except I’m not gay and we’ve always been brothers.”

  “Will you quit with this? You’ve been shipping Brett and I since we met.” I was not exaggerating. That crazy freckled fucker gave us a couple’s name.

  Brace.

  It was the worst ship name I’d ever heard. Sounded like the makings of the biggest relationship failure of all time.

  “Okay.” Wren shrugged and stood up, eyes on Sage as she helped Brett unpack a box filled with shoes and place them on the mat by the door. “Guess you won’t care if Sage sets him up on a date then.”

  I tried to play it cool, but everything inside my body revolted at the thought of Brett dating anybody. It wasn’t fair of me. I had no right to feel any sort of jealousy. I didn’t even know if he identified as a person who liked guys. All this shit Wren was saying about me being in love was whack. I’d never been in love and I suspected I never would be. He was just all dopey because he was deep in it with Sage. I wasn’t in love with Brett. I was in lust with him. He was my hot best friend. My sexy new roommate.

  I shouldn’t want to throw my fist through the wall at the thought of him going on a date with someone who wasn’t me.

  “Sage doesn’t know people except Circuit people,” I said as a way of response. It wasn’t the one he was looking for, but I didn’t care.

  “She knows SevTeck people.”

  I suddenly thought of ways to annoy Sage something terrible in these next few weeks. In retrospect, she had no idea I was mad crushing on her delicious looking brother. For all she knew, she was helping her brother get back in the saddle.

  She just didn’t know I wasn’t brave enough to be the perfectly good saddle Brett could jump into. And if he couldn’t jump into my saddle, I didn’t want him jumping into anybody else’s.

  “Of course she does, bro.” I shoved his shoulder, smoothly directing us into a topic change. “SevTeck is your day job and you two are never apart from each other.”

  “Well, can you blame me? I mean, dude, look at her.” His face lit up when his eyes fell on his girl. Even my gay ass could admit how damn gorgeous Sage was. The snow-white hair and pale skin threatened to make her appear inhuman. Her petite stature and quiet demeanor was the exact opposite of Brett, but they were a few of the qualities that made her perfect for Wren.

  “I’m happy you found your person, bro.”

  Wren looked at me and frowned. “I don’t mean to rub it in your face.”

  I waved him off. “Quit with that, Wilder. Seriously. Brett is just a crush, and just like it did with Orlando Bloom, it will rub off.”

  “Who are you trying to convince, man. Me or yourself?”

  I refused to even consider an answer to that question. “Dude.” The tone of my voice said the conversation was over.

  Wren was never direct about anything. He was the quiet type. The type of person who liked to put something in your head and let it simmer for a while. He never pushed. The fact that he was pushing me from all directions told me he'd let it simmer so long it burned. But he was still my brother, and he knew better than anyone when to let something go and quit nagging. The way he pushed off the wall and headed in Sage’s direction to help her unload a box of dishes told me he took my hint.

  But I knew he wasn’t finished nagging me.

  “Hey, Ace!”

  It took my brain a moment to catch up to Brett calling my name. I shoveled another Red Vine in my mouth and held the bag out while I approached him.

  He took one and bit the end, leaving the rest hanging from h
is mouth. “Could you give me a hand with this tub?”

  I tossed my Red Vines on the couch and crouched down to help him lift a thick plastic tub packed so full the lid was just resting on top rather than clicked into place. “Motherfucking hell,” I grunted, lifting. “What is in this?”

  “Textbooks.” He breathed out. Our sock covered feet shuffled across the old carpeting as we made our way down the hall and into the room across from mine.

  The tub made a giant thud when we plopped it on the ground. He let out a sigh and flopped on his back in the center of the newly moved in, unmade bed. “Thanks again for letting me move in.”

  “Dude.” I collapsed next to him. The mattress bounced beneath us. “You wanted to get out of your parent’s house, I had an extra room. Besides, it isn’t like it’s a handout. You’re paying rent. And if you don’t, I change the locks.”

  He swung his arm and punched me in the gut. “Fucker.”

  “I’m a tough landlord, man. No parties, no alcohol, no orgies—"

  “No orgies?!” he spat. “What are you? Satan?”

  I howled in laughter and grinned widely when his own laughter filled the room. It was these types of moments that stopped me from ever wanting to pursue Brett. Things were too easy around him. The second he sat next to me in an overcrowded airport, worry and panic floating off of him like a rancid smell, we clicked.

  Move over Wren Wilder, a new best friend is taking over.

  In the two months I’ve known Brett, that’s quickly what he became. My best friend. Not that Wren wasn’t super fucking awesome and my slim double G for life, but he had Sage now. And when he disappeared with Sage to do we all knew what, it was just Brett and I. Hanging out. Going for pizza. Playing some intense games of Mario Kart and Supersmash. Getting drunk and finding creative ways to pop the top off a beer bottle. Daring each other to do dumb ass shit in public like we were sixteen or on that show Practical Jokers. There was never a second with Brett when I wasn’t laughing my ass off or acting like a total goob.