To Trick a Hacker: Women of Purgatory 3

by India Kells

  The climb up wasn’t as hazardous as she first thought. The building had many chunks of broken bricks that helped get a good grip. As she went up, almost reaching the window ledge of the second floor, her pocket buzzed twice. It couldn’t be! She had set up a specific alarm if the creep ever used the server of Maison Amaryllis again. Hoisting herself up, she peeked inside and saw someone, back to her, hunched over a laptop on a large desk. The office wasn’t as large or ornate as she expected—quite utilitarian for a renowned brothel owner. There was a woman, dark-haired, dressed in dark clothes. Another one was playing thief it seemed. And she had used the same entry point as she was about to; the window was wide open and she could hear her typing away. Creeping in silently wouldn’t be easy. Dylan slowed her movements to the point where her muscles screamed and burned in agony. Inch by inch, she made her way in, and as she was about to put her second foot down, her leg muscle jerked, kicking nearby books, making them tumble to the floor.

  As the woman turned to her, Dylan reached for her baton, but froze at the sight of a barrel.

  Her preceding intruder seemed younger than Dylan. At first glance at least. Her hand was frighteningly steady until her eyes widened. “You! It’s you! Destiny is incredible!”

  Immobile, Dylan scanned her memory, trying to place that young face. It was familiar somehow. During her career, she had seen countless of them—in the street, cells, and mugshots—but hers didn’t compute. Not particularly beautiful, her slick brown hair was neatly tied in a ponytail. On the small side, her entire body was covered with dark clothes apart from her pale face. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, and Dylan couldn’t believe it when they started shimmering with tears. Tears?

  “Why are you here?”

  The girl smiled. “I’m doing the same thing as you are.”

  Dylan shook her head. “You don’t know why I’m here.”

  “Oh, I can guess. You retraced my steps. I can’t believe you could actually do that! No wonder you’re one of the best in the business.”

  “And who are you?”

  Dylan saw a glimpse of sadness in her eyes before it was replaced with a smile. “It’s not important who I am. Not right now. My purpose is higher than my body or my name.”

  Dylan tried to move sideways, but the girl shook her head. “Don’t try to fool me. I know all your tricks, there is nothing you can do that I don’t already expect. I’ve been studying you for years.”

  “Study me?”

  “Yes, we’re so similar, don’t you see?”

  “I’m nothing like you.”

  Her gun never wavering, she pulled her sleeve a little, and Dylan had to swallow and breathe hard at the sight of familiar carved flesh.

  “You were one of his victims, too!”

  “No, Dylan, not his victim. As you’re not either. He didn’t finish what he started with you, so you can’t see. You can’t understand. That’s why I had to find you, that’s why I needed to help you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  The girl smiled, and Dylan wondered if it was a sign of endearment or madness. “You don’t see it now, Dylan, but I will lead you, I will make you see. For you, but for him, too.”

  “Knudson?”

  “He had great plans for you.”

  “He was a sadistic bastard.”

  Her smile never dimmed, and as Dylan calculated if she could make her move and grab the gun, the office door opened. At first, she expected Owen, but a big mountain of a man entered. Dark skin and gleaming bald head, he looked around and froze at the sight before him, his eyes darting for the gun immediately. Seizing her chance, Dylan leapt, half jumping over the desk, aiming for the gun. The guard chose a side and reached for the gun, too. As Dylan twisted to get to the girl, she kneed the man who collapsed, one knee to the floor in a rush of air and groan of pain.

  The girl fled through the open door, into the hallway. Dylan heard her running footsteps but quickly lost sight of her around a corner. This place was a maze, and as it was impossible for her to know the layout apart from her being on the second floor. She sprinted to keep up. No way she would let the girl go. A door opened and closed as Dylan turned a corner. Only two doors, one in front of the other. First try, the broom closet, second try, a staircase going down.

  Dylan rushed down the stairs and saw the bottom door ajar, slightly closing in. Two men dressed in silk pajama bottoms made her hesitate and reach for her baton when she realized that they were working here.

  “Where did she go? The brown girl?”

  Stunned, one man—the blond-haired guy who was sculpted like a god—pointed to the end of the hall to the left.

  Dylan dashed and pushed two doors open; empty bedrooms. Breathing hard, she heard more footsteps and chose another door, French doors. As she opened them, it took her a second to understand what she saw. At first, she saw the brown-haired girl running to the other end of what looked like a lounge and opening a door that led outside, but her focus took a detour at the scene on the sofa. Owen, half-naked, sitting on a large sofa, with one partially naked woman astride his lap. Judging by the expression on both their faces, Dylan suspected that they were as surprised as she was by the scene. And suddenly, she couldn’t look at Owen. Instead, she lowered her head, muttering some sort of apology before running after her target.

  The door opened up to a private terrace, sheltered from the street with wood panels and small trees. The girl was fast; she had jumped over the railing and was running for it. Dylan didn’t know the layout of the city, so trying any shortcut was out of the question. Her legs burned from the effort but she didn’t slow down. Evading a couple, Dylan realized she was finally gaining on her.

  When the girl veered right, into what looked like an alley, Dylan almost shouted in triumph. She had trapped herself in. The alley led to a small, boxed-in, concrete courtyard, with no possible way out.

  Out of breath, and pouring with sweat, Dylan made sure to block the one possible exit. That girl wouldn’t go anywhere without giving her some much-needed answers.

  The girl was breathing hard, too, but her smile was still firmly in place. “Dylan, you’re so predictable, it’s almost text book.”

  “You can say all that you want, but I’m not the one who ran into a dead end.”

  “Are you sure I ran into a dead end? Or did you follow me into one? I’ll let you guess.”

  Dylan looked around, and they seemed alone enough so she ignored her taunts. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the one who will show you the way.”

  The girl reached behind her back, and Dylan braced for a second gun, but when she retrieved a tactical baton, identical make and model as hers, she cursed. Immediately, Dylan reached for hers and whipped it open.

  The girl continued to smile as they circled around each other. Dylan made sure she wouldn’t escape, but it seemed that her opponent had other plans.

  “Why can’t you answer a simple question? You seem to know a lot about me, but I don’t know anything about you. Don’t you think it’s unfair?”

  “I’m here with only one purpose. Names are not important. You, realizing certain things, is important.”

  When she launched herself at her and attacked, Dylan realized that she didn’t have a fragile little girl in front of her. The brown-haired psycho was trained. Seriously trained.

  The baton whizzed past her head as Dylan evaded, and crouched. The movement was fast but Dylan rammed into her. She was taller and heavier, so the impact would definitely incapacitate her adversary, even if only for a single second. After all, she only needed an opening to overpower and neutralize her. Unfortunately, the girl—instead of falling to the ground—grabbed her, pulling her down with her.

  As she hit the concrete, Dylan successfully elbowed her, air whooshing out in a rush. Rolling away, the girl crouched, her baton in hand. Heaving, Dylan took a step back and realized that she had lost her weapon in their wrestling.

  Empty-handed, she braced for another attack while
trying to locate her baton from the corner of her eye. No easy feat with so little light.

  Twice she tried to take her down, but the girl was fast, as if she knew her moves before she even thought about them. When she finally could punch her, the girl immediately retaliated and brought her down again. Now being straddled by a crazed fury, Dylan only had a second to catch her wrist, making the baton fly from her hand. With her other fist, she landed two punches on her floating ribs before hooking her leg and twisting her around. As she was on top again, her grip on her wrist slipped and her opponent took the opportunity to grab her baton again and struck her temple with the handle.

  Dylan saw stars and her vision blurred through the pain. The girl wiggled off her and Dylan used her momentum to catch a handful of a sweater to help her up. Through the tears, she saw the girl about to strike. The first blow to the chest, she deflected. Pure luck. The second blow hit its target. Dylan howled as the brunette struck her knee with brute force.

  Blinded with agony, Dylan collapsed, and through the haze and tears, she saw the silhouette of the girl running away, disappearing around the corner. Holding her knee, she screamed in frustration, desperate to make her brain function again. As she reached for her phone, not yet sure who to call, she heard a voice through all the buzz in her head.

  Dylan looked around for her baton, or anything to defend herself, when Owen’s voice shouted at her.

  He tried to touch her, assessing, but she couldn’t bear his touch now. It took everything in her to push him away, while holding her knee and trying to get still. For a long moment, she stayed silent, trying to slow down her breathing so she could speak again.

  “I’m calling 9-1-1.”

  “No!” The first coherent word coming from her sounded strangled. “Owen, if I go to the hospital, I’ll pop up on the radar. I don’t want that.”

  “Hell, Dylan, I can’t leave you like this.”

  Fighting the pain, she looked up at him. His shirt was buttoned up crooked, and he hadn’t even bothered tucking it in his pants. His vest and jacket were nowhere to be seen. The muscle on his jaw jumped.

  “Go get the car, Owen. I think I know where to find a doctor.”

  Chapter 26

  Dylan hesitated between finding another safe house or returning to Mary’s farm. Unfortunately, as she wasn’t the one driving, her decision power was somewhat limited. Tears had just stopped streaming down her cheeks and pain was a tad more manageable when they reached their destination, an hour before dawn.

  The farmhouse was dark and quiet, everybody obviously still in their beds.

  Owen turned the engine off. “When is your doctor coming?”

  “As soon as Lance comes back with him.”

  “Lance? You called him?”

  Satisfied not to be in motion for now, Dylan sighed. “Nope, but there is a strange coincidence that’s been occurring for some time now. Where a certain doctor is, Lance is never far. The opposite is also true. And it seemed that I guessed right again or that keeping tabs on Purgatory members pays off. Lucky me. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell the details of where we have been, just that I needed an emergency consult.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Dylan turned her head and arched an eyebrow at his question. “What do you think, genius?”

  If he was fazed by her acidic question, it didn’t show. “Do you know who that girl is?”

  “Gimme a computer and I’ll find out.” Her voice sounded gritty now.

  “I’ll set you up in no time. But maybe you can rest a bit first.”

  “Fuck that. I’m not resting, and I’m not putting on kid gloves anymore. This is war and I’m going to take that psycho bitch down.”

  As anger made her blood boil, it awakened the pain again. She tried her best to calm down, breathing through clenched teeth. She looked in the mirror, and almost collapsed in relief when she saw a car pull behind them, with Luke in the passenger seat.

  At that moment, fatigue took her and rage fled. If not focusing on what needed to be done next, Dylan would have cried like a baby. Owen got out and went to Lance as Luke rushed to her side.

  “Hey Dogberry! Glad to finally meet you!”

  Dylan couldn’t help but to smile at the handsome young doctor with his ruffled mop of brown hair and crooked dark-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose. He had an enthusiastic charm that she found irresistible. Probably the same that Lance found so attractive.

  “Lance has opened his big mouth again … he will regret it.”

  Luke winced. “Don’t be too hard on him, I was the one who forced him to give me details otherwise I wouldn’t have come.”

  “Really?”

  Luke winked. “Nah, I would have come anyway. For the incredible chance of helping the infamous Dogberry. But he didn’t know that. And to be honest, I like that I can make this mighty SEAL bend to my will, occasionally.”

  Dylan peeked at the rear mirror, looking at Owen and Lance doing some explaining. “I don’t know. I guess that Lance would bend for you anytime he can.”

  Luke scoffed. “That’s naughty of you. But I will admit that him in this position is a sight to behold. And far more practical as he’s too tall.”

  Dylan rolled her eyes, and winced as the young doctor touched her right knee.

  “Can you get out of the car? It would be easier if I could examine you while you’re lying down.”

  “I’ll try if you help me. Try to support my thigh as I move.”

  Luke put his hand on her thigh and started to lift. It was painful but bearable. But when he slowly lowered it to the ground, she couldn’t help but whimper. In an instant, Owen and Lance were beside the car.

  “What are you doing?” Owen crouched next to her, an angry look almost cutting Luke open.

  “Luke is helping me get out of the car. Stow the dictator act, Owen.”

  “If you’re in pain, he’s not helping.” Now the gruff voice she knew so well was back full force.

  “Owen, easy, brother.” Lance slightly inched between his brother and his lover.

  Luke ignored the brewing storm, and focused on her. Bless him.

  “Now, let’s do the other leg. I’ll try not to jar your injured knee or twist it. But the pull will be painful.”

  Dylan nodded quickly and clenched her jaw. “I’m ready.”

  He was quick, but the radiating pain increased nonetheless. Now drenched in sweat, and half out of the car, Dylan tried to catch her breath, blinking tears away. Luke straightened slightly.

  “I’m going to pull you up now. I’ll put my arms around your waist and help you as you use your right leg as leverage.”

  Owen knelt nearby. “I’ll pull her up, carry her to the house.”

  “No, bad idea. If you carry her that way the pressure on the back of her knee will be too great. Once standing, we’ll use a chair hold. You can do it with Lance as you’re closer to the same height. And obviously have better upper body strength.”

  “If that’s a way of saying that I’m fat, you’re not doing a great job, Doc.” Lance rocked on his heels, staying close.

  “I would never say such a thing, would I?” Luke winked at him before leaning toward her.

  As his position forced the doctor’s face against her breasts, Dylan looked at Lance, trying to lighten the general mood. “Please do not take this position personally. He’s only trying to help me up.”

  Lance smiled. “I didn’t see it. My eyes are glued to his ass, anyway.”

  “Okay, both of you, you’re not helping at all.” Luke grunted, and Dylan pushed forward, helping herself with her uninjured leg and both arms.

  Once standing, she clung to Luke for balance. She didn’t have to look to feel Owen hovering. Even through the pain, she had a clear image of him on that sofa with Amaryllis, and knew she had to get over it. After all, they had an open kind of relationship, didn’t they? And he was the one who had to go to his old hunting ground and keep everyone distracted. She had to turn her foul
mood around and remind herself that she had agreed to keep her heart out of the equation. So why, if she had been so detached, so logically interested in that distance, couldn’t she bear to look at him?

  Without a word, Lance and Owen linked hands and placed them under her thighs. As they lifted her, Dylan winced but kept quiet, clenching their shoulders as they moved along. Luke grabbed the keys from Lance’s back pocket, jogged to the front door, and opened it. Since everyone was still asleep upstairs, they settled, as silently as possible, in the living room.