“Will it be enough?”
“No, but it’s a start.” Speckles fired up the machine. “I’ll need you to hack it, get me access to the C drive.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’ll be at the panel in twenty minutes, right?”
“Yes, and everything is set.”
“Perfect. I got you on the list for tonight. Is everything ready for then?”
Kevin patted his pocket.
“Good. Good.” Speckles grinned. He didn’t wear glasses anymore, hell, he wouldn’t even acknowledge his old nickname, but to Kevin, Speckles would always be the one person who gave Kevin a leg up when no one else would.
2.
Andrea stared at the brown coat stretched over wide shoulders, her head spinning.
In what world did a sexy, steampunk Captain Hook come to her rescue?
And he liked her game.
Game.
Oh no.
No, no, no, no, no.
Her heart pulsed in her throat and her fingers tingled. She crept after her would-be protector, sticking close to the wall. Yeah, he’d said to stay put, but damn it. That was her hotel room.
Captain Hook pushed the door open, staying clear of the opening and peered into the room.
She held her breath and strained to catch any sounds. Was someone in there? Had housekeeping left the door open? What if she’d left it open?
Crystal was going to kill her dead.
“I told you to stay put.”
Andrea glanced up at Hook and swallowed, torn between lock-herself-in-a-closet fear and help-me-you’re-my-only-hope lust. His face was fractured from life, the scars writing a history on his face she couldn’t read. Yet there was a handsomeness about him that was more than just surface level that already had her forgetting the marks. Was the scarring real? Or was it all an elaborate part of his costume? With some of the cosplayers, she couldn’t tell.
The lines around Hook’s mouth deepened and she scuttled backward, nearly tripping over her hem.
Wow. Hot and scary.
“Stay. Right. Here,” he said.
She swallowed and nodded, twisting a handful of the white fabric in her hands.
Hook crossed the threshold and again she stopped breathing, straining to catch any hint of what was going on in her room. There were no crashes, no yelling, just silence. Whoever he was, he moved like a cat.
Was her room trashed? Could he be perving over her underwear? Was he dead?
Andrea edged forward.
One little peek couldn’t hurt, right?
She stretched out her neck and leaned forward until she could glimpse the inside of her hotel suite.
“Oh...my...God...”
Andrea’s jaw dropped and before she knew it, she’d followed him into the ruins of her room.
The sheets were stripped off the beds, the mattresses pushed onto the floor. Tufts of white stuffing rolled around like tumbleweeds. Her clothing was strewn around the room. She was pretty sure the smear on the wall came from her toiletries.
“Damn it, I told you to stay out of here. I don’t know if it’s safe or not, yet.” Hook closed in on her, wrapped his big hand around her arm, and practically dragged her into the bathroom. “Stay here.”
She was far too shocked by the state of her room to disobey.
From her vantage point, she watched as Hook paced the room, crouching to get a look at this or that. Her vocal chords were frozen or blown, because she couldn’t make a sound.
Someone had done this. Destroyed her things. Picked her out. She’d thought she’d seen the worst of the gaming hate...but nothing compared to this violent act.
None of it fazed Hook. He inspected everything, yet touched nothing. The way he moved, how he approached every bit of the carnage...this wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like this.
Hook pulled out his phone and aimed it at the beds.
Was that...her bra hanging off the lamp?
She squinted and leaned forward, as if that would help.
Oh God, it was her R2D2 bra!
Andrea sat down on the edge of the bathtub and buried her face in her hands. The tight feeling in her chest cinched down until she could barely inhale.
This was worse than a nightmare. Ever since they’d unveiled Drudge VII—or D7 as they’d begun calling it—things had changed. She’d gone from being a name on the credits reel to the center of attention. Miranda had pushed both Andrea and Crystal into the spotlight. Miranda was so excited about what they were doing. As women gamers, it’d fulfilled one of their greatest ambitions to create a game with kickass, non-sexualized women are the forefront. They’d gotten so caught up with their vision for the project that they never stopped to consider how the real world would react to it. People hated them. And what was worse? Crystal wasn’t there to pop Andrea’s spine into place this time.
What would Crystal do? Probably stomp through the wreckage and sneer at what a crappy job the vandal had done.
“Hey. Hey, don’t cry.”
Hook knelt in front of her, one hand on her knee.
Air squeaked down her dry throat.
“Easy.” Hook squeezed her, his dark, intense gaze ordering her body to behave. “Deep breath.”
She stared at the ceiling and drew several, short breaths, each one longer than the last.
Why her?
This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
She wanted to whine, to wail at the injustice of it all. All she’d wanted to do was create something that entertained people. D7 was never supposed to be a social commentary. It was a game.
A game she was supposed to be talking about...
“I’m supposed to be at a panel in...” She blinked the blurriness away, refusing to acknowledge the tears, and checked her phone. “In twenty minutes. I was just coming up to change...”
His lips pressed into a tight line, but his eyes were filled with sympathy.
Two men in suits with hotel nameplates on their left breasts stepped into the carnage of her suite.
“Hang on, okay?” Hook glanced at them and squeezed her knee again.
She snagged his sleeve, but got her fingers around the decorative hook instead. It was far more solid and imposing than she’d realized earlier. He was either really committed to the costume...or the hook wasn’t for looks.
“You okay?” He sank back onto his knee, his entire focus centered on her.
There was something comforting about his presence. As if she knew he was bigger and badder than whatever was out there waiting for her. He was her paladin. The knight of justice.
And she needed to get her head screwed on straight.
He was a dude she’d met in the elevator, who also happened to be a cool guy, unlike a lot of the idiots she’d interacted with so far.
“What’s your name?” she asked. Calling him Captain Hook was sexy in her head but she couldn’t go around referring to him as Hook.
“Zain.” His smile was tight. “It’s going to be okay, Andrea. I promise. I’m going to take care of this.”
She wasn’t as certain, but she nodded anyway. He left her perched on the edge of the tub and went to speak to the hotel security. She should be talking to them, it was her room after all, but for once, it was nice to let someone else handle things. At least while she figured out what to do next.
The security staff and Zain kept their voices low, but she caught words here and there, a bit of a mention about her. She wasn’t strong, like Crystal. Without Zain happening by, Andrea didn’t know what she’d have done. Rock in the corner and cry, probably.
“Ms. Clancy?” An older gentleman leaned into the bathroom.
“Y-yes?” She straightened and curled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.
“We’re very sorry about this invasion of privacy. We will get the details to Mr. Lloyd. Call us if you need anything.”
Mr. Lloyd?
Before she could muddle through exactly what was happening
, the two gentlemen were gone and sexy Captain Hook was closing the room door.
“The lock is completely disengaged.” He closed the door and opened it without twisting the handle.
“What am I going to do?” She groaned and stared at the ceiling.
She should have never come to this damn convention. Promoting the game was marketing. She was a designer. Putting her in the spotlight just because she had mammary glands and a uterus was a ridiculous solution to the uproar they’d caused.
Zain’s boots thumped on the tile. He was a pillar of calm in an otherwise turbulent environment.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” he asked.
“Yes. No. Maybe?” She dropped her hands. “Part of me just wants to run home and part of me hates that idea. We worked so hard on D7. It’s a great game. This isn’t fair.”
Yes, she was whining, but so what?
“Someone just broke into your hotel room, violated your privacy, and maybe stole from you. You’re entitled to go home if that’s what you want to do.”
“Stole—oh my—no!” Andrea bolted to her feet and out into the room. She nearly tripped over a pile of comforters.
“Andrea, wait.” Zain grabbed her hand, pulling her into the short hall leading into the room. “The cops are going to want to photograph everything as it is.”
She wiggled her hand in his grasp, but he wasn’t letting go. He tugged her closer, until her breasts brushed his chest when she breathed. That contact alone was enough to remind her again that this was an incredibly attractive man.
Terrified. Aroused. Whining. What else could she add to this day?
“My laptop. Did you see it?” She grasped a handful of his jacket with her free hand.
“No, but it could be in here somewhere.” His brows drew down and little lines creased his brow.
“Oh, God. Miranda is going to kill me.” She dropped her chin almost to her chest and her forehead thudded against Zain’s shoulder. His arm circled her waist, his warmth seeping into her.
“Why? What was on it?”
She could not only hear, but feel, his voice this close.
He’d asked a question.
She should really answer.
What was the question again?
Oh right. The laptop.
“Concepts for the spin-off game. I was supposed to show them tomorrow. It’s why I had to come. Shit. Shit. Shit.” She lifted her head from his shoulder. Fifteen minutes ago, he’d terrified her. Now she secretly hoped he knew the answer to the meaning of life, besides forty-two. “What do I do?”
She didn’t honestly expect an answer, but he seemed to consider her question for a moment. Her head buzzed as though she weren’t getting enough oxygen.
“You have a few options,” he said, “but first you need to decide if staying here is what you really want to do.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“That’s not...I don’t know you well enough to make a guess.”
“Just, tell me? I need to hear something.” She grinned despite the dire circumstances. “Help me, Captain Hook, you’re my only hope.”
He snorted and for a moment the corners of his mouth quirked up in something resembling a smile before disappearing.
“You should probably go home.” All sense of mirth was completely gone. The arm around her waist tightened and his thumb caressed her knuckles. She squeezed his fingers, grateful for the comfort. “Whoever broke in here wasn’t an amateur. They knew enough to completely disarm the door and wreck this place without making too much noise. It wasn’t a random act. You were targeted, and judging from the amount of destruction, I’d say there’s a lot of anger behind this. The thoroughness suggests this was a paid gig, but money might not be much of a motivator, due to the amount of rage poured into this.”
Andrea nodded. It was a sound assessment. He ticked every logical box she could think of and some she hadn’t. But she had no intention of going home with her tail tucked between her legs. Crystal might fault Andrea for being quiet and mousey, but she hadn’t jumped into a male-dominated industry with a long history of hostility toward women because someone told her to. Andrea had made that choice on her own before she ever met Crystal or Miranda.
Maybe she didn’t need Crystal to install her spine after all.
“If you want,” Zain said, breaking her line of thinking, “I can hang around until you’ve made your statement and drive you to the airport?” The corners around his mouth creased as he frowned. Yeah, she didn’t like that suggestion either, and yet he was willing to put that plan into action.
“I’m not leaving.” It was time to channel Crystal. Be spunky, sassy and full of spitfire.
“Andrea, I protect people for a living. You really should think about your safety.”
“I know, and this terrifies me. I’m about five seconds from bawling all over you, but you know what? I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of chasing me away. We made a damn good game, and it’s not my fault whoever did this can’t see beyond a pair of boobs. So, no, I don’t need a ride to the airport. I’m staying. There’s hotel security, right? I’ll just...stay with people. Safety in numbers, right?”
She straightened her spine and lifted her chin, despite the quake of fear deep inside her chest.
“Okay.” Zain released her and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
She shivered without his arm around her. What a time to meet a good-looking guy.
“If that’s what you want to do, then we should get you downstairs.” He flashed the con app at her.
“The panel. Shit.” She slapped a hand against her forehead.
“It’s your call.”
“I should do it. Right? Miranda will be down there, expecting me. But I can’t go dressed like this, can I?” She swished the skirts. “Forget it. I might need to pretend I’m a warrior princess just to get through this.”
What would Princess Leia do, anyway? Probably fire off a warning shot. Well, this was her warning shot.
3.
Kevin kept his ball cap pulled low. In a packed room of nearly five hundred, remaining anonymous shouldn’t be an issue. He wasn’t taking chances, though. Andrea was as dumb as a woman could get, a lot like his mother, but Andrea’s shadow was a different story.
She’d arrived to the panel on time, composed and with a man. A man Kevin hadn’t seen in his six weeks of observing both Andrea and Crystal.
It was all wrong.
She was supposed to flake out—or better yet—show up and be a wreck. It would make it that much easier for the plants in the audience to rile her up and cause a scene. Her demise would be so much sweeter if everyone saw how pathetic she really was, if they played up how much of a victim she was. No one felt sorry for the ones who screamed.
Instead, she’d sat quietly through the panel, answering two or three questions aimed at her, but never once appearing flustered. His plants weren’t given the chance to ding her with questions because the moderator had steered their questions to the other designers on the panel.
Figured the one time he wanted to actually hear her talk was the one time she wasn’t given the opportunity.
It was a good chance to observe her shadow, though. The man against the wall in the brown pirate coat and boots with the steampunk gears was clearly with her. Kevin didn’t pay the costume any mind, it wasn’t what the man was wearing that was the issue, it was how the he carried himself. There was a finely tuned awareness of every person in the room. It was in the way he stood, hunter-still and poised to strike.
Kevin had known men like this in juvie and later in boot camp. Super soldiers. Meat grinders. The same kind of men Kevin had served with briefly, at least until they kicked him out. Stupid fucks.
His father had been that same type. At least until the drugs. Kevin hadn’t known his dad pre-drugs. He only had the drunken stories his mother could remember. She’d loved the man his father used to be, but not the man he’d become. No, that man was an ab
usive prick who couldn’t have died fast enough. Kevin’s father had needed putting down. That was a necessity. His mother, on the other hand, that’d been for himself. He visited them from time to time, on the rare occasion that he went to Speckle’s house. They were buried out back, near the fence. Kevin liked to piss on their graves.
Damn, this panel was running too long.
He checked the time.
They weren’t going to allow Andrea to answer any more questions.
Great.
Any other time, he would have been thankful to the moderator for not making him listen to her. Figured the one time he needed her to make a scene was also the only instance the moderator had a brain enough to not bore the audience with her droning.
The plan had to be aborted until Kevin could regroup and assess this new player. Speckles would be pissed, but the success of their overall mission was more important than ruining one girl’s day. Besides, they had the laptop. In short order, they’d have all they needed to move into phase two.
Kevin tapped out a text, calling off the handful of men he’d paid and planted in the audience. What was a couple hundred dollars to the success of a lifetime?
He lifted his phone and snapped a few out-of-focus pictures of the pirate captain.
Whoever he was, he should have minded his own business.
Zain leaned against the wall, staying out of the way. The hall was packed for the Hottest Games of the Year panel, and anyone who was anyone in game design was on that stage. Andrea sat sandwiched in the middle of seven men who’d proceeded to play keep-the-mic-away from her over the last hour. It was the most disgusting example of chauvinism he’d seen at the con yet, but from Andrea’s account, it wasn’t the worst.
Panels weren’t typically Zain’s thing, which was the only reason he could think of for why he hadn’t picked up on the petty bullshit earlier. He just didn’t understand it. Sure, the GamerGate idiots could explain until they were blue in the face how women were ruining the industry, but it didn’t make one iota of sense to Zain. Now, if they were talking women in the forward ranks, pressing into terrorist lands—yeah. He’d probably be against including women, due to the higher risk they faced from enemy combatants—not because of their skill level. But here? This was the stupidest sixty minutes of wanking he’d ever had to endure.
Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3) Page 2