The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland, #2)

by Lindt, Allyson

  “I want to go tonight. I’ll drive the rest of the way, if you’re too tired.” Reagan’s sarcasm was interrupted by her yawn.

  He forced aside the irritation that came with exhaustion. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

  “No. But I will when I see it. That’s the way it’s been with everything so far.”

  “If that’s the case, you need to be sharp and rested.” He turned down the street leading to the motel.

  “I’d like to see it now.”

  And he wanted to climb into bed and sleep. He understood her insistence, though. She was so close to... whatever this was. “Compromise?” he said. “We’ll drive by tonight, and go back first thing tomorrow morning, when we’ve slept, and it’s light outside, and there’s less of a chance of the neighbors calling the cops on the people traipsing around an abandoned property in the middle of the night.

  “All right.” She sounded as if it was anything but.

  He pointed the vehicle toward the address and followed her directions, turning left here and right there. They reached their destination street. The lights were few and far between, so it was difficult to tell what kind of condition the houses were in, but the architecture dated most of them at more than a century old. They had huge yards—the kind of space developers paid a fortune for, in bigger cities.

  “Park over there.” She pointed at a two-story with a one car garage, surrounded by trees almost as old as the house. “I just want to take a look.”

  He didn’t even slow down. “No.” He winced at the edge in his voice. “Why are you pushing so hard to do this right now?”

  “What if something happens between today and tomorrow? Don’t you feel it?” She sighed. “Never mind.”

  He didn’t know if her sensing the same vibe was a confirmation he wasn’t going insane or a warning they should put more faith in. “I do feel it, but we can’t do this tonight, for all the reasons I listed.”

  “You’re right.” She twisted in her seat, facing the house, as they drove away. She didn’t sit forward again until they turned and it was gone from view.

  A little while later, they stepped into their new hotel room. He tossed their bags aside with the last bit of care he could muster, and latched the door shut. When he turned to face Reagan, she draped her arms over his shoulders and pressed close.

  “I’m too wired to sleep.” A seductive, playful note leaked into her tone. “Distract me?”

  Electricity slid over his skin, drawing his nerve endings to life but leaving his brain behind. Fuck—she felt good. “No.” That ached to say. He extracted himself from the embrace, and stepped around her, moving into the room.

  “Why not? Is today different from any other day?”

  It was completely different. The understanding struck him and sank in. “Because I care. That is, I cared before—on that basic we’re-human-beings level—but I care about you now. If we fuck again, I want it to mean something, and not be an excuse.”

  “If you’re doing this to make a point, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

  “That’s not what this is.”

  “I know you’re a good guy, and you should know it too. You’ve been my white knight, even if you don’t think so. Holding me when I need it. Saving me. Everything you’ve done, because it’s who you are, is why I trust you.”

  She wasn’t tossing around the word trust lightly. He should have known that, but it meant more this time. “Do you feel the same, even now?” After what he said? The accusations he made?

  “Even now.”

  God, he was an idiot. “I’m sorry. I realize I said it before, but I need to reinforce that I mean it. I shouldn’t have listened to Queen. I let the situation get to me and screw with my head. If we get out of this—”

  “When.”

  His smile took more energy than it should. “When this is over, the secrets have to stop. We both have our reasons, but I should have given you the same faith you did me.”

  “You see a future for us at the end of this?” The corners of her eyes tugged up.

  He’d said that, didn’t he? “I don’t know how far it’ll go, but yeah, I’d like to see what’s there. Outside this twisted realm of madness.”

  “Me too.”

  “In that case, at least come up with a better excuse for sex than distract me.” Blake slid a hint of teasing into his voice. “Something more like in case this is our last night on Earth.”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Wow. That’s depressing. How about we strip out all the excuses, do what comes naturally, and enjoy each other’s company?”

  “That’s a plan I can’t argue with.” He tugged her to sit on the bed with her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed along the back of her neck and down to her shoulder. “I’m serious about wanting sleep, though. Christ—I want you, but I’m old and tired.”

  “All right. We’ll sleep.” Reagan extracted herself long enough to shed all her clothes except her T-shirt and panties.

  He stripped down to his boxers, pulled back the comforter, and climbed into bed. When she lay next to him and pulled his arm over her, a filter of comfort muted the lingering sense of something bad.

  This felt right. Different than before—not like he was protecting her, like it was a more equal arrangement—but still right.

  Despite the exhaustion searing through him and weighing down his limbs, tension kept his gaze fixed on the clock on the nightstand. The numbers clicked up the minutes, toward an hour.

  “You’re not sleeping either?” Reagan asked.

  “Nope.”

  “This sucks.”

  He glided his fingers down her arm, to dance them over her hip. “Perhaps a distraction is a good idea after all.”

  “Did you have something specific in mind?” She pressed back into him, and tilted her head so she met his gaze.

  Each time she shifted against him, it chased away more of the shadows and drew his desire closer to the surface. “Very specific.” He dipped under the elastic of her underwear, to tease her bare skin, but didn’t move lower.

  “Like what?” Her teasing question evaporated in a sigh when he brushed the crease where hip met thigh.

  His cock hardened. How would things have gone between them, if they’d met without the specter of Jabberwock surrounding them? Would they have clicked? Not what he wanted to be thinking about. He dipped lower and slid between her folds. The tiny gasp that slipped from her throat was like a spark dancing through him.

  “Pressing this button here”—he drew a tight circle around her clit—“and sliding inside you to see what happens next.” He dipped into her opening. She grew wetter with each new movement, making it easy for him to slip along his path.

  She clenched around his fingers, then pumped her hips to the steady pace he set. “Then what?” Her question was strained.

  “Greedy girl. Isn’t that enough?” Blake dragged his lips along her neck, before pausing to suck on the soft flesh. The scent of winter clung to her skin, mingling with the soap from their last hotel.

  He slipped out of her and moved back to her clit again, tracing and nudging. Teasing in time with her moans and the thrust of her hips.

  “It’s good. It’s fantastic.” Her words were punctuated by gasps. “But it feels like there’s a Part Two.”

  “There could be.” And would be, if he was lucky. His erection was so hard it ached, begging for release. He wanted to prolong this moment—stay locked in this cloud that was only them. “Have to finish Part One first.”

  He increased the speed and pressure on her sex, circling faster the more she ground into his touch. She gripped his arm, digging in her fingers, but didn’t try to pull him way. Each new gasp was intoxicating, and the feeling of her heat on his skin, wet and desperate, filled his head.

  He recognized the sound of her nearing climax. The pauses when she held her breath. The whimpers when she let go. They tight
ened across his nerves, making him wish his dick was buried inside her.

  When she came, she bucked under his touch, before pulling him away with a low laugh. She raised his hand and drew a finger into her mouth. When she traced her tongue along the pad, licking off her juices, his cock twinged with envy.

  He tilted his head to nip her earlobe. “Fuck. I want to be inside you.”

  “There is a Part Two.” She wiggled her ass.

  He nudged her shoulder blades forward and repositioned himself for a better angle. When he fisted his shaft, a spike of desire lit his senses up. He found the sense to grab a condom from his wallet and roll it on.

  He moved her leg, pushed aside her panties, and nudged her opening. He thrust inside without hesitation, and she arched her back. The sensation froze his tongue, so he could only manage a grunt. Wittiness evaporated. She was tight and slick, wrapped around him. Driving back into him. Milking him.

  “I can’t— Jesus. You feel incredible.” Saying that much took more of his focus than he wanted.

  He found the swollen bud between her legs. She jerked away, then eased back into his attention. He couldn’t hold out long like this. The weight of the last several days had faded into the background, leaving him with only the scents and sounds and sensations of now. He needed this release.

  “I want you to come again,” he murmured against her skin. “Pinch your nipples.”

  She nodded, and shoved her shirt aside to grab her breast. The hint of skin, smooth and pale in the glint of moonlight peeking through the curtains, was an invisible vise, squeezing in his gut and tightening in his balls.

  He buried his face in her neck, but the scent didn’t help. Nipping, sucking, then biting the tender skin, he elicited a drawn-out groan from her. Everything seemed to pause for a heartbeat, then she cried out when she came, clenching around his cock.

  It was like someone flicked a switch. He spilled inside her, pounding hard and fast, grasping her hip. He thrust until he was spent, then slowed to a stop.

  She scooted closer again, and he held on tight.

  “Better?” she asked, sleep tinging her question.

  “Much.” His eyes were tugging shut. He found enough presence of mind to dispose of the condom, then draped his arm around Reagan again. “Sleep now?”

  She nodded. “And tomorrow, when we have what we need, it’ll all be over. In a week, we’ll celebrate Thanksgiving on an island, thousands of miles from here, and put the bad parts of this behind us.”

  “We absolutely will.” He wouldn’t clarify which part of her statement he was agreeing with. Pretending this was almost over felt like as big a lie as any of them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Reagan stepped from the car and paused for half a second with her shoes inches from the ground. An odd splash of fear spilled through her, as though stepping on the sidewalk would make the house vanish.

  “You all right?” Blake called from where he stood, several feet up the front walk.

  She shook the odd impulse aside. “I’m good.” She joined him and took a long look around the front yard. Snow covered the browning grass in patches. The lawn that poked through didn’t look overgrown. Did someone take care of this place?

  “Do you want to start out here?” Blake asked.

  “I don’t think he’d leave it exposed to the elements like that, but we’ll check out here as a last resort.” Her pulse thrummed in her ears, and she couldn’t shake the dread that encased her.

  She unlocked the front door with a key she’d recovered in Tampa Bay. The little girl in her wanted to believe Alex hid them all over the country to give her more of a challenge. To make the game more fun. She suspected it was to keep someone from stumbling on the pieces and knowing how to connect them.

  She stepped into the home, expecting a rush of... something. The same cold air that was outside greeted her from the inside. Boards creaked under her, as she crossed the hardwood floor, but she left no footprints behind. A brush of the curtains hanging over frost-covered windows didn’t send dust fluttering to the ground. Someone was doing basic maintenance on the place.

  She heard a soft click behind her, followed by several more, and turned to see Blake flipping a light switch by the door up and down. “No power. Not that I expected it.”

  “I guess you were smart to make me wait until it was light outside.” Reagan gave him a tight smile.

  “I won’t even say, I told you so.”

  She looked around. There was no furniture, but the living room was big enough for a couch, a few chairs, and a small TV. Nothing in here was familiar. She expected a gnawing wave of nostalgia, but she wasn’t even a year old when they moved out of the place.

  Did Alex love it here? He must have felt some attachment, to be compelled to buy it.

  Nothing caught her eye. The walls were painted eggshell, and the trim stained dark. She wandered into the kitchen. The cabinets matched the walnut-colored wood. Power outlets and empty caves sat where appliances should be. She looked in each cupboard, shining her light into all the corners, but there were no uneven seams or cracks. Nothing that looked out of place.

  When she turned back to the doorway leading to the living room, Blake stood just inside. He moved out of her way, and she headed upstairs.

  She was grateful he kept his distance and had nothing to say, but at the same time, it was reassuring to have him there. An eerie creeping sensation traveled with her, as she worked her way from room to room, as if someone was watching.

  No one was here but Blake.

  Several hours later, she’d been through the house top to bottom several times. Nothing was familiar. Clouds had moved in, blocking the afternoon light and casting the house in shadows, so she had to strain, to see.

  Their light would have evaporated soon anyway, with the short days. She sat on the top stair and dropped her face into her hands.

  Blake settled next to her, his shoulder pressing against hers. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.” She tried to keep the frustration from her voice. She’d knocked on walls, to listen for hollow sounds. Looked for hidden latches. Anything. Did she read Alex’s clues wrong, or was whatever he left gone already?

  “We can’t do much else today.” Blake’s voice was kind. “Do you want to try again tomorrow? We’ll grab food, go back to the hotel, and watch stupid movies.”

  She didn’t know what good coming back tomorrow would do them, but stubbornness had gotten her this far. “Sounds like a plan.”

  WHEN THEY RETURNED the next day, she brought with her almost everything she’d collected from Alex’s scavenger hunt.

  She wandered through the house, not processing any of it. Where was she supposed to start? What did she miss yesterday?

  “I’ll do another look downstairs,” Blake said.

  She nodded and headed up to the bedrooms. She walked into one with pale-blue walls. Emptiness stared back at her, washing over her with the futility of it all. She dropped the box of Alex’s stuff and slid to the floor with her back against the wall. “What do you want me to find?” she asked the room.

  She pulled the box closer and grabbed the stack of photos off the top. Unlike the digital ones that started her search, these were on yellowed paper, the colors faded. There were a couple of her and Alex on her first day of kindergarten—him with his arm around her shoulder, and her wearing a giant grin.

  More of him riding a bike... Her playing with the family dog... Her thoughts trailed off as she stared at the print in her hand.

  It was Alex when he was about seven, standing next to a crib with a baby in it. Me. Alex was pointing at baby-Reagan. There was a window to the side, a giant tree showing through the glass.

  She looked between the photo and the window in front of her. The tree out there was barren where the one in the photo was covered in leaves, but it was the same tree. She was certain of it.

  “Blake.” She looked between the image and the room. What was she supposed to
see?

  “Be right there,” he called.

  In the photo, the wall was papered with cowboys and dinosaurs, rather than painted blue. She looked closer. Alex wasn’t pointing at her. There was a stick-figure drawing on the wall above her head. She pushed to her feet and crossed to look at the wall in that same general area.

  The faint outline of cowboys peeked through thin paint, and there was a tiny bubble in the finish. She picked at it, and the wallpaper underneath tore.

  Who the fuck painted over wallpaper? And did such a shitty job? She didn’t care. Her pulse hammered in her ears and her excitement grew. “Blake.”

  She tore at the wallpaper. Where the hell was Blake?

  An envelope wrapped in plastic fluttered to the ground. She bent at the waist, snagged it, and tore away the wrapping, forcing herself to go slow, so as not to tear anything inside.

  A stack of bearer bonds was nestled in there. She flipped through the notes. There had to be thousands of dollars’ worth. Her thumb skipped over a different texture, and she paused.

  She went back to the obstruction and pulled out another photo. This was a Polaroid, and much newer. More vibrant. She swore her heart stopped when she saw the image. It was Alex and Queen, both smiling, arms around each other. On the bottom of the print, it read My Kitten.

  Reagan shoved the image into the envelope, and her gut sank into her shoes. Pieces collided in her head, leaving a dull throb behind her eyes. Was Queen the woman Alex talked about with so much adoration in his notes? Why else would he leave this here? With that inscription?

  “Blake.” She turned and almost collided with Jabberwock. Her voice stuck in her throat.

  “Blake is busy.” Jabberwock gave her a smile that made her want to sink into the floor and vanish. “You and I need to talk.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a game.” Could she get around him before he grabbed her?

  He shot his hand toward her throat and pushed her back, digging his palm into her jugular as he used his longer reach and body weight to pin her to the wall. “Too bad. I let you go six months ago because you said we could play a game. We’re going to play.”