Roll Against Discovery (3d20 Book 3)

by Lindt, Allyson

  Okay, his next message read. Ping me if you need help.

  “Kitten?” The concern in Evan’s voice dragged me back to the room.

  Right. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I handed him my phone. Trevor shifted his weight, to look over Evan’s shoulder. “The fuck?” Evan said, as he handed the device back. “We just took those.”

  This wasn’t good at all.

  Chapter Five

  I wasn’t going to panic over it. I knew the pictures taken downstairs would be made public—that was the entire point. However, I hadn’t signed any sort of release with this site, or given them my permission in any way. In addition, those images were only posted an hour ago, and as part of some silly convention game. What kind of stock-photo site had to scan a ridiculous hashtag, to steal images for resale?

  None of it made sense. I stood, lost in thought. All my concerns about whether or not the encounter with Trevor and Evan had been a bad idea tumbled to the back of my mind.

  “Kathryn?” Trevor’s voice cut through a mental speculation with no real direction. “Talk to us?

  Correction—all my concerns about the shared moment between the three of us had vanished, except for one. “Those are your pictures.” I found my top and bra draped over the back of a chair, and pulled both on. It wasn’t an accusation, and I wasn’t certain the images came from Trevor, but most of the other shots taken downstairs had someone posing next to me, or people in the background. Only Trevor and Evan’s pics would be clean. Their pics from downstairs, anyway. My skin heated at the still-fresh images flooding my mind.

  “They definitely look like mine.” Trevor held up his phone and showed me a shot identical to the one on the newly-discovered site. Even though he’d made time to dig up a picture, both men still sat naked on the bed, watching me. I wasn’t going to stare. More important things were going on than two naked human gods watching me have a meltdown. I fished my skirt from under the desk, but my panties were nowhere to be found. Fuck it. I was going to my room, anyway. I’d grab a new pair.

  A new thought occurred to me, and as ridiculous as it was, I had to ask. If anyone got their hands of the pictures Trevor took up here… why didn’t I think of that before he started snapping shots? “You weren’t hacked, were you?” What if he’d pissed off a girlfriend they’d shared, and she had access to some account he synced his phone with, and oh God… I sank onto the edge of the bed. I’d been so stupid.

  “I promise I wasn’t.” Trevor shifted until he sat next to me. “I don’t sync the device, and not even Evan knows any of my login information. Your pictures are safe.”

  A paper-thin wisp of relief floated through me. “That’s something.” At least I had a valid reason to make a weak excuse and scoot my butt out of here. The thought of walking away for good echoed inside me, bouncing around and bruising my tentative grip on control. I had no idea why I was so reluctant to leave these two. I still knew nothing about them beyond that they were amazing in bed. Hardly the basis for a long term relationship of any kind.

  Being spontaneous was one thing, but now I was irrational. Time to go. “Thank you for”—I waved my hand, not sure what to call it—“this. I need to go. Figure out how to contact whoever owns the site and get those pictures taken down.”

  “Kitten.” Evan grabbed my wrist tightly enough to make me pause, but not so I couldn’t break free if I wanted. “We’re in this together.”

  His firm grip, the heat of his rough palm on my skin, re-summoned all my doubts and questions. Why? What did any of it have to do with them?

  My question must have shown on my face. “They’re my photos,” Trevor said. “Also, as far as I can tell, there’s no way to get a hold of anyone on this site. No form, no email, no phone. Not even a broken Contact Us link.”

  Wonderful. He had a point, about having a stake in this. He hadn’t been violated the way I had, but it still wasn’t right. “There are ways to look into domain ownership. Even locked and private information. My laptop is in my room. I can’t do anything from here but stare at my phone.”

  “Then go grab your computer and meet us downstairs in half an hour.” Evan let go of my hand. I tucked aside my sudden surge of longing. He stood, and it took the last of my willpower not to let my gaze drift over him and linger on his cock. I didn’t quite succeed. I looked back up, to find a smile playing on his face. “We can all shower, get dressed—though don’t feel obliged to change on our account”—he looked me over—“and find each other in the lobby.”

  He wasn’t asking. I wanted to argue I could handle this alone and let them know what I found. The words struggled in the back of my mind, to force their way out. My mouth wasn’t willing to surrender the chance to spend more time with them. “Half an hour. See you downstairs.”

  I had my hand on the door latch, when Trevor said, “Kathryn.”

  I whirled, to find him standing directly behind me. My breath caught at the close proximity. The sharp coolness of his body wash mingled with traces of sweat and sex, filling my head and making me wish this wasn’t over. “What’s up?” I was surprised I managed to keep my voice steady.

  He planted a hand at the base of my neck and kissed me. I parted my lips, stunned by the abrupt gesture but enjoying every bit of it. Sinking into the hunger. His tongue accepted the opening and danced into my mouth. I pressed closer, into his bare form, wanting—needing—to feel his skin against mine. I dug my fingers into the sinewy strength of his arms. Clinging. Drowning. His rock hard cock dug into my hip. This wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t spark something so primitive and needy in me. Unlike with Evan and the control he exuded, this was a give and take. An equal struggle to dive into each other but still keep our distance.

  Trevor broke the kiss but didn’t let go. “I had to know what that felt like.” He rested his forehead against mine, his voice low, meant only for me. He stepped back. “See you downstairs.”

  My head was a no-man’s land of chaos, as I headed toward the elevator. With every step I took, the cool air brushed my bare mound, kissing the dampness and reminding me of what I’d done. The pleasant ache in my backside was a unique token of the morning as well. Years of instinct and indoctrination from the world around me insisted I should be ashamed. I didn’t have any regrets, though. Well, maybe that it was only a one-time thing, but that was more of an unrealistic longing, to be stowed away under the amazing memories.

  I barely registered the people around me, as I rode up to my floor and spilled into the hallway with a handful of other costumed folks. Several of them were bent over their phones, chattering. It was none of my business. My own life had gotten infinitely more interesting.

  Back in my room, I stripped off my cosplay and stepped into the shower. I kept things quick, to resist the temptation to dive into the memories one more time. To finish off what my body started when Trevor kissed me. I didn’t need to rub myself raw.

  I dried and dressed in cutoff shorts and a T-shirt. Suddenly the costumes I brought held too much meaning to be appealing. They carried both my desire to share them with the guys, and the irritation I felt at having my image stolen and posted online for the world to purchase.

  I splashed cold water on my face, to force myself back to reality, shook away most traces of my euphoria from earlier, and headed back downstairs with my laptop bag slung over my shoulder. Now that I had dragged my head out of the clouds, I was more aware of the people around me. Several groups, most of them in costume, huddled around phones. I expected it to a point, but this felt wrong. Most I passed were grumbling and cursing, and some seemed on the edge of hysteria.

  I planted myself in front of a group of three people. I only acknowledged in passing thought that I never would have been so bold this morning. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  One girl in black-and-white face makeup, and a red-and-black corset with more cleavage showing than I had boobs, looked up. “You were in the ARG room this morning. Right? We took your picture.”

  I
nodded. “Are you looking at the photo site?”

  “Check the hashtag.” She showed me her phone. “There’s more than one. So far, people have found at least ten sites with their images on them.”

  The chaos in my skull merged with the bedlam and erupted into an anxiety that crawled through my nerves.

  “Thanks.” I was already walking toward the stairs, too impatient to wait for a car packed with people. One site was bad luck. More than ten, all in a few hours? The coincidence was beyond implausible. What the hell was going on? I wanted to get in front of my laptop and figure this out.

  More whispers, grumbles, and very loud complaints reached me. Everyone involved was already doing everything I could do. Seeing who owned the domain, looking for contact information, finding Cease-and-Desist form letters online.

  I paused midstride, as something occurred to me. Our pictures hadn’t been stolen. This was the game. So what was the point? Chloe had mentioned software testing and security. Pieces clicked in my head. They wanted to see if people could find out who was behind this. I wasn’t certain, but it seemed as good a lead as any.

  I spun back to my room, to ditch my laptop. If everyone was busy online, I needed another approach. An angle nobody tried yet.

  Chapter Six

  I kept half an eye on #RINARG, on my phone, and the rest of my attention on my surroundings as I wove through the lobby. The events online were the equivalent of a digital meltdown. People threatening to sue. Publicly crying about their families or coworkers seeing them in that costume. The most significant thing to me was the shared links about what had already been discovered. There was too much information to process while I walked. I paused and brushed my gaze over the faces around me. Evan and Trevor were nowhere to be found.

  Something nudged my mind. A phrase just out of my grasp, but what was it? Words I’d heard earlier. Twisting my head. The thought fluttered on the edge of my consciousness.

  “Hey, Kitten.” Evan’s breath caressed my cheek, and his arm settled against my back. “Miss us?”

  Did I miss my random, impulsive fling? The happy flutter beneath my ribs at their presence said yes.

  Trevor stepped around us and headed toward a nearby sofa. He didn’t meet my gaze until he took a seat. “Changed your mind on the computer?” His tone was cool, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Some of my giddiness faded. I needed to remember what happened upstairs was not the same as what we were doing now, and not interpret Evan’s overt friendliness as anything more than that. “I don’t think I’m going to need it.”

  Evan nudged me forward, dropped onto the far end of the same sofa Trevor occupied, and tugged my hand, prompting me to sit between them. I offered zero resistance. Cool reception or otherwise, my skin still hummed with the memories of being in the middle a short while ago.

  “I looked for contact info while he showered.” Evan leaned back and draped an arm on the couch behind me. “There’s nothing out there. What made you back off?”

  They didn’t see it. I let a sliver of satisfaction slide in. “It doesn’t matter. It’s part of the game.” I related everything I’d overheard and managed to glean in the halls. “My guess is, within the next half hour or so, someone will find whatever they’re meant to, online, and Rinslet will own up to it being a clue.”

  Evan scowled. “So we sit back and let someone else get there first? Then what’s the point?”

  “Nope. We get our information another way.” I pulled up a mobile version of the website for Rinslet’s latest game. They had a massively multi-player online role-playing game in public beta testing. Based on the list of social features offered, I was almost certain the stock photo sites were an indirect way of testing their security. “One of you puts on your smoothest sweet talking voice, calls support, and coerces your way into finding out whatever it is we’re supposed to know, to get the next clue.”

  “I like it.” Evan pulled his phone from his pocket. “Tell me what I need to say.”

  Trevor shook his head. “Hang on. It won’t be that simple. It’s a good idea, but it’s not going to work the way you think.”

  I frowned at being shot down so quickly, without a discussion, and defensiveness leaked into my voice. “Why not?”

  He held up a hand. “It might. I’m not saying it’s a bad idea. The thing is odds are pretty high we’ll get a guy on the phone, if we call.”

  Being the only women on a team of twenty five at the call center I worked at, I knew he was right. Still, I wasn’t sure why it mattered. “And?”

  “And silver-tongued serpent or not, that seriously decreases the odds of Evan sweet talking his way into information.”

  “Oh.” I sank back into the cushions with a sigh. “Never mind.”

  “It’s still a good idea.” Trevor shifted so he faced me, and his knees brushed mine. “I’m thinking someone else needs to be the executioner.”

  Evan squeezed my shoulder. “You’ve got my vote. It’s your idea, so you already know what to say. Right?”

  My gut flopped in on itself. “I don’t think I can.”

  “Why not?” Evan asked, no accusation in his voice. “You’ve got all the right skills.”

  I had a lot of bluffing and bullshit. But if I backed out now, they’d know I was faking this whole smooth-and-confident thing. I swallowed my nervousness. “All right. I’ll call.”

  “You’ll be brilliant,” Evan whispered.

  As I dialed the support number on the beta-testing website, I wished I had his confidence. Each ring in my ear was like another chime on my death march. The idea sounded so much more brilliant when someone else had to pull it off.

  “Thank you for calling Rinslet Beta Support. My name is Grant. How can I help you?” The voice on the other end of the line spoke so quickly, words all running together, it took me a second to process what he’d said.

  I shook off the confusion, dragged up self-assured me, and prayed whatever came out of my mouth wouldn’t be stupid. “Hey, Grant.” Wow, did I really sound this breathy on the phone? I needed to roll with it, not overthink it. “I’m hoping you can help me. I’m one of the testers for the new game, and”—I gave a tiny sigh—”it’s giving me some trouble.”

  A long pause grew between us, and for a moment I was worried he’d hung up. “Sure.” His reply came sharply and abruptly, startling me. “I just need some basic information. What’s your character name?”

  “I… What?” I knew exactly what he was asking, but I figured pretending I thought I was in the right place would help my cause. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same game. This is Rinslet Testing Support, right?”

  Evan snickered, and I glared at him, willing him to be silent.

  “Of course,” Grant said. “But the only game we have in testing right now is The Hoarde Online.”

  “Oh, my God.” It turned out, if I let the words roll, they came pretty easily. “I love The Hoarde. I mean…” I trailed off. I realized I was twirling a strand of hair around my finger, even though he couldn’t see me. Trevor closed his hand over mine and shook his head with a smile. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the phone call. “Don’t think I’m pervy or anything, but Darla, in number three… that part of the game where she’s proving to her boyfriend she can keep up?”

  “Yeah?” Grant said.

  “So hot. I mean, she’s gorgeous. Is it okay if I say that?”

  Yes, Evan mouthed at me, looking like it was taking all his restraint not to laugh.

  “Best. Scene. Ever.” Grant’s enthusiasm was almost tangible.

  “Right?” I was really getting into this. It was kind of fun, to be honest. “Chloe Nielson is here. She was the head writer on that, wasn’t she? Total girl-crush on her.”

  “Uh…” Grant trailed off. “Here, where?”

  “She runs the game I’m helping test. They told you about that, right? I mean, do I need to talk to someone else? I like talking to you, Grant. I’m really hoping y
ou can help me.”

  “No, of course I can. Whatever you need. What’s going on?”

  “It’s just…” I chewed on my bottom lip. Trevor ran a finger along the flesh and pulled it away from my teeth, his brows raised. I stuck my tongue out at him. “I had this email address—to get a hold of her, you know? And I swore I put it in my phone, and now I can’t find it anywhere. Can you give it to me?”

  “Of course.” Grant rattled off Chloe’s contact information.

  I traded a few more quips with him about The Hoarde, and gave him a friendly thank you before hanging up.

  “God, you are fantastic, Kitten.” Evan threw his head back with a barking laugh. “Absolutely brilliant.”

  “I second that,” Trevor said.

  I was already typing an email out to Chloe, including the guys’ user names in the message and letting her know we could issue a formal Cease-and-Desist to Rinslet to take the photo sites down, but we were hoping it wasn’t necessary. As an afterthought, I added PS— Grant says hi.

  Within moments, I had a reply, congratulating us on being the first to crack the clues, telling me the sites would all be gone within minutes, and implying they hadn’t even thought to check security on the Tech Support side of things. She wrapped it up by letting me know they were giving everyone else new clues, and the next phase of the game would start in the morning.

  “Well?” Two pairs of eyes watched, expectantly.

  I read Chloe’s email out loud. “As of now, we’re in the lead.”

  “Fuck, yeah!”

  I was surrounded by cheers, high fives and hugs. I sank into it all, lingering on the happiness. This was so much fun. It was a shame it wouldn’t last once the con was over. There was no way I could keep this up twenty-four-seven. I might as well enjoy it now.

  Chapter Seven

  Evan and Trevor didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere else. The three of us hung out, hit up various panels, and wandered through the Dealers’ Room more times than I could count. I’d never had so much fun doing random things. Innuendo and jokes flowed between us. It seemed like no topic was off limits, and that included quantum theory and whether or not Hentai—animated Japanese porn—was a legitimate art form.