“Look at this Dusty!” Tamara gestured at the next in line, a group of seven people dressed up as the new Dusty and her sisters.
“Wow.” Andrea leaned over the table, shocked at how much work had gone into the outfits. All she could do was stare at the girls.
This was really happening.
There were people who loved the game as much as she did. As much as Crystal.
“You guys look amazing.” She sat back, still in awe of all the work that went into not just getting the clothing right, but also the armor. “Did you guys make that?”
One question was all two of the girls needed to launch into an explanation that included things like foam and molding and stuff Andrea didn’t know the first thing about. But what she recognized was the excitement. The passion project she’d started with Crystal one night after too many frozen daiquiris and video games was now something that got other girls just like them excited. To the point they wanted to dress up at a convention and walk around as their characters.
“We made this for you.” A shy, petite member of the troupe approached the table with a replica of Dusty’s sword-gun.
“For me? Are you serious?”
“We made two because we thought Crystal would be here, but...”
“Hold on.” Andrea grabbed her phone. “I bet I can video chat her real quick. She’d want to see you guys.”
“We have the other gun upstairs,” another of the girls said. “Do you—I mean—would she want it?”
Andrea gaped at the woman for a moment. “She would love that, are you kidding?”
Posing with the group and surprising Crystal with the video call were some of the highlights of the impromptu signing session. Andrea had always felt like D7 filled a hole in the gaming world, giving female players a chance to be represented and shine. She’d just never expected to see that support quite so out in the open. And pretty much everyone who approached the table already wore a WGC pin on their lanyard. Most of them grabbed a pin for a friend or someone else, a few wanted a spare.
Again and again, Piper’s words rang true. The people in line might want her signature or to ask her a burning question about one thing or another, but most wanted to talk. To share their experiences. To tell her why playing as Dusty or one of the sisters was the greatest thing ever. How, finally, they didn’t have to use a masculine handle. That they were connecting with other girls and women through the game, and create their own pockets of female-empowered gaming. It was a small thing in the scope of reality, but for these people...D7 was important. And getting to see that reminded Andrea of the heart behind the project. Why they’d taken this wild, crazy chance to step outside the box.
“Who should I sign this one to?” Andrea held the marker poised over the game box.
The girl couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen. She even had a smiling father hovering a few feet away, camera poised to snap even more pictures. Andrea noted the yellow WGC pin on his lapel and smiled. The line was almost gone, and those left were hanging out in the booth, testing the demo copies and comparing armor.
“D7? Man, that game sucks.” A passerby chunked a piece of crumbled piece of paper, smacking Andrea in the face with it.
She started and shook her head. A flier.
“Hey.” Zain stepped in front of Andrea and the girl.
Andrea swallowed and batted the paper off the table, out of sight.
“Who did you say?” she asked, keeping her attention on the girl.
“She should stick to showing off her tits,” one of the paper tosser’s friends said. He held up one of the fliers, but she couldn’t tell which one out of the corner of her eye.
“That’s not okay.” A girl cosplaying Dusty shoved between Zain and the heckler, snatching the fliers. “What’s wrong with you?”
Zain and the Dusty cosplayer, along with Miranda and Piper, formed a line between the booth and hecklers. Security swept in and in a matter of seconds, both the fliers and the guys carrying them were gone.
“Guys like that are why I play video games as Mike,” the teen said. Her father had stepped up beside her, throwing dirty looks in the wake of the hecklers.
“You and me, both. I still play as Adam on a few games.”
“I don’t play D7 as Mike though. I use a girl name. Not my name, because my dad gets all weird, but still—it’s nice to be able to be me.”
“Me, too. I play a lot as Sabrina.”
As the girl continued to chat, Andrea couldn’t stop smiling. Yeah, there were numbskulls out there handing out pictures of her, but that was because they were so full of hate they had to tear someone else down. This—this teenage girl—was why Andrea and Crystal pushed for what they did. Because there were girls out there, just like them, who wanted a game that reflected who they were.
Kevin crumpled the fliers in his hands.
“You didn’t get close to her,” he said.
The over-sized man-child Kevin had hired to do a simple job glared at him. The dick for brains couldn’t follow a simple instruction.
“You never said that, man. Where’s my money?” The man held out his hand, jaw thrust forward. He had more in common with an angry toddler than an adult.
“I told you and your idiots to cause trouble and put the fliers in front of her. Was that so hard to understand?” Kevin could feel the rage rising. Good help was exceptionally hard to come by here.
“Yeah, well, we did our job and now you have to pay us or I’ll go back to those security guys and—”
Kevin didn’t let the walking idiot finished the threat. He punched the guy, cracking his jaw and sending the man stumbling back. Pain radiated up Kevin’s arm, but it was nothing in comparison to the white-hot rage.
This motherfucker thought he could threaten Kevin and get away with it?
He struck out, kicking the idiot in the thigh. The hotel room seemed to shrink in on itself. There were no witnesses, no one to point fingers, and no back-up for the small dick wonder child.
He was going to enjoy making this one bleed.
Kevin tracked the now blubbering fool across the room, pace slow, mentally laying out where he’d hit next.
The solar plexus. Drive oxygen out of the man’s airbags, put him on the floor and—
Kevin’s phone rang.
He ground his teeth together, stopped and pulled it out.
Speckles.
Damn his timing.
“Yes?” Kevin kept his gaze on the heaving man child. Spittle and blood trickled down the guy’s chin.
“She’s leaving. Right now.” Speckle’s voice was too high. What had happened?
“I’m aware of that.” Planting the bug in Zain’s room had been easy, if a bit too high-tech for this phase of the plan. Still, he knew where they would be, where they were crashing, all of it.
“The data isn’t here. It’s just the new game,” Speckles said.
Kevin struggled to recall what, exactly, Speckles was talking about. It had to be the laptop. Breaking into it had been a cake walk, but he hadn’t looked past the surface level stuff.
“What do you want me to do?” Kevin turned, striding to the door.
“Find out where she keeps her backups.”
“To...what?”
“You idiot. Get to Seattle. Call me when you’re there.”
Speckles hung up.
Kevin glanced at the phone.
Where had things gone wrong? What files did Speckles want?
They needed the laptop to use Andrea’s access to the Dark Matter servers. There was game code and design Speckles wanted for...something. But there’d been a lot of other data. Stuff Kevin hadn’t looked at too closely. He’d just ensured the information was where Speckles needed it to be—and handed it over. So what was he missing? What piece of the puzzle didn’t he know?
If the girl had code stashed somewhere else, if there were first generation files somewhere else, couldn’t they take that away from her during the latter part of the plan?
Kevin didn’t like not knowing. He couldn’t plan or fix things he was unprepared for. But, they’d agreed in the beginning that there were particulars better left out. Because if things went south and they decided to go with the Trojan approach, they needed options.
It was time to get up close and personal with Andrea’s life.
“Hello, yes, I’d like to buy a one-way ticket to Seattle on the next flight out of San Diego, please.”
12.
Andrea wiggled her toes and stared at the ceiling. Or the top of the cabin. Actually, it was the over-head baggage compartment and tucked in next to the window the whole thing felt like it was caving in on her. She wasn’t normally claustrophobic, but for some reason the tight space bothered her. Her whole world was twisting, imploding, and she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t change it.
Someone she knew was behind everything.
It’d been easier to ignore and brush off the emails and threats when the people behind it were faceless, nameless entities.
But she knew them.
Or at least the one behind the worst of it.
And that hurt.
“Zain?” She shifted, crossing one leg over the other and turning her upper body toward him.
“Hm?” He leafed through the Sky Mall magazine.
“Tell me about what it is you do.”
He turned his face toward her, his expression blank. Impassive.
Was what he did that bad?
For a moment he didn’t speak. They stared at each other.
Finally, he seemed to make some sort of decision and closed the magazine.
“What it is I do? Or what Aegis Group does?” He tucked the copy of Sky Mall into the pocket and leaned his left elbow against the arm rest.
“Let’s start with Aegis.”
“It’s a security agency.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we protect people.”
“Okay...From what?”
“Whatever they need to be protected from.”
“You’re not answering the question.”
“I told you what it is we do.”
“Yeah, but that’s not a real answer. You’re telling me the broad strokes of what you do. Why? Because you don’t want me to know? I can Google.”
He pressed his lips together and stared at the seat in front of him for a moment. She could almost smell the smoke coming out of his ears, his brain was burning that much rubber. Was it so bad?
“What we do for each client is different. That’s why it’s such a hard question to answer.” He swung his face back to spear her with his gaze. There was something...dangerous about the way he stared at her. “The better question is—what can we do for you?”
“What is it you—the company—normally does?” Did she really want to know?
“Our largest revenue line is basically body guarding, but what we’re known for—why a lot of people hire us—is asset recovery.” He said that like she should know what it meant.
“And that is? You told me before, but my brain has holes in it. Tell me again?”
“When someone is vacationing and gets kidnapped, or strays over a boundary line and gets taken prisoner, or anything where they are held against their will—and the government cannot or will not intervene—you call us.”
It was her turn to stare at him. She wasn’t a big news buff. The world was a dark and terrifying place at times. Which was why she loved video games. She could immerse herself in a make-believe world where you just started over at the last save point when you died.
Andrea swallowed.
She wasn’t completely ignorant, though. She’d heard stories, seen news clips. People kidnapped, beheaded, their grieving families. How many more of those would there be if Zain didn’t put a stop to them?
It all made her problems seem very trite and silly.
“You save people.” She licked her lips. “Literally. Captain America, break into Hydra, save people.”
“Not me.” He flexed his 3D printed hand. “But our people do.”
“Yeah, but I get the feeling you aren’t exactly the out-of-the-line-of-fire kind of safe.” She reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around his palm. The mechanical digits curled around her, the grip not quite tight, but still comforting.
“There is minimal risk to my role in those kinds of situations.”
“You’re totally deflecting.” It was his tone of voice. That one that was so assuring, he couldn’t possibly be telling her a lie. And he wasn’t. So when was he in danger?
“Deflecting? I’m not.”
She leaned in closer, studying his face, the minute expression.
“Okay, you aren’t at risk then—but you are at risk sometimes.” There. A tiny flex of muscle at his jaw.
“There is inherent risk in what I do.”
“What is it you do?”
“I run the intelligence side of things.”
“So...if you want to know something about a client, or a person that poses a risk to a client, you do that?”
“Yes.”
“And what else? I’m not buying this I-sit-behind-a-computer-all-safe-and-sound bullshit you’re trying to feed me. I work with those kinds of people. You are not that kind of person.” She poked his shoulder with her left index finger.
“You don’t need to know that.” His lips were pressed tightly together.
He really didn’t want to talk about it. He was shutting her out. It shouldn’t be a surprise. She was—what? A charity job? He didn’t owe her answers. She owed him, if anything. And yet, it stung. They’d...been intimate. “Fucked” was too course a word for what she’d felt with him. There’d been vulnerability then, he’d trusted her. But she couldn’t know what it is he really did, because Zain wasn’t just the head of Bad-Ass R’ Us tech department and he didn’t just run background checks.
“Okay.” She leaned back and stared out of the window, his hand weighing heavily in hers.
The mechanical fingers flexed, one after the other, gently squeezing her.
“No one talks about it,” he said quietly, his voice pitched low.
She didn’t look at him, but she did shift closer, until their shoulders touched.
“Part of the reason my boss recruited me was because of the connections I’d made while in the SEALs. Some of these people...you can’t ask for an introduction, if you know what I mean. A lot of the time, when we go into a situation, we can’t bring equipment with us. I find vendors, sources we can get it from. These places—they aren’t in the US. It’s not always...legal. And some of the people we need to know aren’t nice. They aren’t good. They’re a means to an end.”
“And you—what?” She held her breath.
“I figure out who it’s a good idea to know. I make friends.” The way he said the word, it didn’t sound like he was talking about poker game buddies.
She turned to face him again, taking in the deep lines, the way the skin around the bottom of his scar wrinkled. There were parts of her job she didn’t like, things she dreaded doing, and none of those involved having to make nice with people of questionable morality.
“Why you?” she asked.
“I made a very dangerous friend once and it changed my life.”
“Who was it?”
“An African warlord who has since been put down.”
She blinked, her mouth working soundlessly.
“There’s a lot of evil in this world.” He squeezed her hand. “I try to make it better, but sometimes that means doing things I don’t want to. Meeting people I’d rather shoot.”
Andrea swallowed. He meant it—literally. Shoot them. Not like a Nerf gun or in a video game or even paintballing. Shooting them with bullets. Live rounds. And probably to kill them. He’d never pretended otherwise, no, that was on her. She’d sterilized him to fit her vision of him. Yes, he was super hero material, but he still had
a dark side. The job wasn’t flying around in a cape. It was dirty and hard, often thankless.
“I shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” Zain said.
“No, no, I’m just... Is it hard? Doing what you do?”
“It’s not easy. It’s not fun. But someone has to do it. I believe going through legal channels when we can is the best option, but sometimes to save a life or multiple lives, you can’t always color in the lines.”
Zain watched Andrea’s face, the flex of her throat, the shift of her gaze. He could have lived without this conversation. Having her see him as the intelligence officer was easier. Better. The clear cut lines were defined that way. But as a whole...there was a lot more gray area.
“What kind of people do you rescue?” she asked.
The question caught him off guard. Not that it was surprising, but it was completely off-topic.
“All kinds.”
“On average.” She rolled her eyes at him.
“Typically, we’re dealing with some scared, stupid tourists, rich people who thought they were immune, or some sort of journalist. Usually it’s people in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like my cousin’s girlfriend.”
“What happened with his girlfriend?”
“She went on vacation, dragged Mason along, and she got kidnapped. Wrong place, really wrong time.”
“Wow. Is she okay? I mean, I’m guessing since you said girlfriend in the present tense, she’s okay.”
“Yeah, Hannah’s fine.”
“Did she know the, like, secret moves or something? What you should and shouldn’t do when kidnapped?”
“Hannah...Hannah’s dad is basically the second in command. He’s a paranoid SOB who did, in fact, teach her what to do. But that caused her situation to get complicated. Sometimes the best thing to do is sit down, shut up, and do what you’re told.”
“Hannah didn’t do that?”
“No.” Zain shook his head. “She tried to rescue herself, so when we went in to save her, along with some other...people...she wasn’t there.”
“What happened?”
“We had to go in a second time—almost lost one guy—and get her out of there.”
“Okay, if I was in her position, what would you tell me to do?”
Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3) Page 12