Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3)

by Sidney Bristol

  What were the chances he’d broken into her room and her apartment? Was this the same guy? What had Zain said about him? That he was trained. That the job had a lot of rage behind it. And that someone under the Dark Matter umbrella was after her and Crystal for what they’d done with D7. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t sane. And if he’d had access to their network, then he wasn’t alone.

  What about Crystal? Why would they grab Andrea, and not the person who’d been billed right alongside her as the driving force behind the game? What kind of danger was her best friend in?

  She sucked in a deep breath.

  Zain would find her. Wouldn’t he? She had to believe that he would. The things he did...the people he worked with...they saved people. And they’d save her. She had to believe it.

  Kevin peered through the open archway into the darkened living room.

  Andrea was lost in the shadows between her dark T-shirt and the black bag, but her pale skin and jeans stood out. Her head turned this way and that, as though she were still trying to figure out where she was.

  Damn bitch had hyperventilated for at least an hour. It’d taken his every last nerve to not deck her until she passed out. But Speckles had been very clear that she shouldn’t appear too banged up. There would be press and shit to do later and he didn’t want her looking worse for wear. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

  He liked this plan a lot better when it included killing her.

  But things had changed.

  Kevin had his cell pressed to his ear.

  The phone rang several times.

  He ground his teeth together.

  It was going to go to voicemail.

  Damn it.

  The line chimed with the automated inbox.

  He hung up, squeezing his other hand into a fist. This was not the time to put him off. Did he dare try Speckles’ other number? Probably not. They were too close to the Trojan plan for him to break the communication lines. He’d have to wait. And cool his heels in this God forsaken dump.

  Kevin jerked the cabinet doors open, taking stock of what was there. He and Speckles had vastly different ideas when it came to supplies and being well stocked. They weren’t fucking kids anymore. Spaghetti-O’s and instant macaroni weren’t going to cut it.

  Ah-ha!

  A bottle of amber liquor was in the very back of the second cabinet. He wasn’t normally one for booze, but after having to listen to her for the afternoon, he needed the shot of whisky to tamp down on his urge to throttle the bitch.

  He downed a few fingers, once, twice, three times before the warm-fuzzies started to sink in.

  That did the trick.

  He stoppered the bottle and placed it in the freezer. It needed to cool for later. This job was harder than they’d planned it to be. All because of the one-armed-wonder. Fuck him.

  The phone rang and nearly vibrated off the counter. Kevin caught it, glaring at the screen.

  “About damn time,” he said.

  “It’s not there,” Speckles snarled.

  “What’s not there? You said it would be.” Kevin turned, peering into the living room. Had he heard something? Or was it just the storm blowing in? Andrea sat right where he’d left her, though now she’d slumped down a bit. Probably close to passing out.

  “It isn’t. This is all video files. Vlogs!”

  “Fuck. All of them?”

  “Yes, I went through all thirteen God damned drives.”

  “Shit.”

  “Do you have her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Find out what she knows. We need those files before we continue.”

  “What files? What are you looking for?”

  “She...knows things.”

  “Look.” Kevin pitched his voice lower and paced to the very back of the house. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what she’s supposed to tell me.”

  “You can’t say anything.”

  “It’s me, I won’t.”

  “Back when Dark Matter bought Grunge, the bitch, Miranda, ran a keystroke program. It logged everything typed on every machine on our servers. All of them. On mine.”

  “Okay...”

  “I typed our agreement on that computer.”

  Kevin’s blood ran cold. They’d had one copy—and it’d been burned. A digital copy would implicate not only Speckles, but Kevin. It was supposed to have been gone. Disappeared forever.

  “Are you sure?” Kevin asked.

  “Positive. When I found out about the program, I went to Miranda because I thought it was her, but the fucking bimbo was clueless. It’s taken me a long time to get back all of my access, since I was demoted over that whole damn shit storm.”

  “So, what? Someone’s been out there—what? Sitting on this?”

  “Yes, and I’m not having this hang over me anymore.”

  “That’s what you wouldn’t tell me.” Kevin had known it was more than Speckles wanting Dark Matter under his control. Not that Kevin blamed him, but the whole plan had stunk of another motive. Now he knew.

  “It should have been our secret,” Speckles yelled. “There were other things. Agreements... I did some business on the side... It’s all in those back-ups. She has them somewhere. Find them. Or we’re both going to prison for homicide.”

  “What kind of agreements?” What else was Speckles keeping from him?

  “I did some dealings overseas. Some favors.” In other words, Speckles had conducted illegal business on company property. And he thought that was a good idea why?

  “I might...leave a mark.”

  “Do what you have to. Just get that data or we’re both fucked.”

  “Glad to.”

  Speckles ended the call.

  Bastard.

  Kevin almost hurled the phone. It didn’t seem real. Speckles could not have a digital record of their agreement. They’d put everything in that file. Who planned it, who organized what, which one of them did the cutting, which one did the digging, which one... He couldn’t remember it all anymore. But it would be in that file.

  God damn it.

  He should kill the bitch. That would solve the problem. But what if she had a fail safe? What if they ended her and the information went public?

  Shit. He had to get it. He’d make the bitch talk, one way or another.

  15.

  Zain parked the Fiat outside of the police station.

  Hours spent canvassing the area where Andrea had gone missing and the apartment complex had turned up nothing. Not a thing. Besides the people on the road, no one had noticed the man, Andrea or their car. How could they just disappear? He itched to be at his computer, to do something that might yield a lead, but he had to leave that up to Gavin and pray the kid realized what was at stake here.

  He pushed the front doors open and checked in at the front desk. The officers on scene had connected him to the Detective Bowman that Crystal and Andrea had wanted to speak to.

  “Bowman is on his way,” the officer at the desk said after a quick buzz.

  Zain checked his phone again. Nine texts from Crystal, two from some of the guys and one from his boss. Fuck. He’d leave that for later. Chances were, whatever Crawford had to say wouldn’t be good.

  “Mr. Lloyd?” A man in his late thirties opened the double doors leading into the rest of the station.

  “That’s me. Detective?”

  “Yup. Come on back.”

  They shook briefly and Zain followed the man back through the hallways.

  “Where are we?” Zain asked.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. The last I spoke with any of the girls was before...comic con? Is that what it’s called?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you bring me up to date with what happened there? Crystal said you were present for much of it.”

  In short order, Zain related the events during the convention to the detective, leading up to that afternoon when Andrea was taken. He stared straight ahead, unable to look anyone i
n the face, even when he took a seat across from the detective at his desk.

  “You’re very thorough, Mr. Lloyd.”

  “Zain, please.”

  “Max. You work for a big security company, right?”

  “Correct, Andrea contracted me after the incident at the party. Officially.”

  Max folded his hands together and leaned toward Zain. He was younger than Zain had pegged him. Early thirties? There were life lines around his eyes and mouth. Zain was willing to bet that Max had seen either military service, or hard years on the force, both of which had aged him prematurely.

  “I’d like for us to work together, Zain. Now, I’ve never had to coordinate with a security agency, and it looks like you guys have a pretty solid track record, so I’d appreciate it if we could do this as a team.”

  “With all due respect, Max? I’m going to do whatever it takes to get Andrea back. If that’s working together, fine. If that means I have to do things my own way? I will.”

  “How about I pretend I only heard the, ‘I’d like for us to work together,’ part?” Max said.

  “Fine by me.”

  “Great. Now, we’re working on pulling security footage from the businesses along the streets we know the suspect was driving down, as well as those from the businesses in front of where the car was dumped.”

  “Those were all shut down.”

  “Shit. The guys said there were some shops.”

  “Yeah, but they were farther down.” Zain took a piece of paper and quickly sketched the scene. “We walked these. I have my guy looking through the footage now, but I haven’t heard from him. That usually means he hasn’t found anything.”

  “You what?”

  “Hm?”

  “How do you already have the footage?”

  “Most of those companies have their security contracts through Ultimate Security Corp.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And USC runs all their security streams through the same servers in Denver. I know a guy there, and if I can give him the exact client number, he can usually let me have about ten minutes of footage without bothering the customer. However, this whole operation was planned out. They knew where we were, when we would be there, and there had to be a car stashed there, which means our guy would have gone by these locations before. I’m hoping we can catch him on camera sometime before this. Maybe earlier in the day. It’ll take more time to get that and find him, but if he’s there my team will tag it.”

  Max sat back in his chair, blinking, the hair on one side of his head pushed up.

  “Something wrong, detective?”

  “I knew you were supposed to be good. I didn’t know you were that good. Should you have told me about your...arrangement at USC?”

  “Ten minutes of footage for security purposes fits within their TOS, which is why we’re waiting on the rest of the day’s film. It pays to read the wall of text.”

  “Good to know. Now—”

  The door banged open and Crystal tromped in, partially soaked.

  “Crystal, I didn’t think you were coming down,” Max said.

  “I had to. Did you find her yet?” Crystal sank into the other chair and leaned forward onto the desk. “Please tell me you found something. Someone isn’t answering their phone.” She glared at Zain.

  “Nothing yet.” Max gestured at Zain. “I was just getting up to speed with what Aegis has been able to find out.”

  “And?” She turned to face Zain.

  “Nothing yet. No one saw anything at the scene, and they switched cars, so we don’t even know what we’re looking for, much less who. We do know he wasn’t wearing a mask at the time of the abduction. One of the other drivers got a good look at him, so we know it’s a man, dark hair, smaller build. That’ll help us narrow down what we’re looking for.”

  “Patrol is still out, knocking on doors, but they aren’t finding anything, either,” Max added.

  “Should I vlog about it? I mean, whoever did this probably watches my channel.”

  “I’d rather you not,” Max said. “At this point, it could have been you they kidnapped instead of her. Making yourself more of a target isn’t going to help matters.”

  “Actually, I’m going to disagree.” Zain leaned forward, mirroring Crystal’s pose. “Think about it. This all started because of D7. They fixated on you and Andrea because of your online presence. If you go public and address the kidnappers, it could get them to make contact. Give us their demands.”

  “You think we should go full-on hostage situation here?” Max asked.

  “They want something. Why else would they trash her hotel, her house, and take off with her laptop? She said it looked like something was missing from her rig upstairs, but she couldn’t figure out what.”

  “Yeah,” Crystal nodded, “I’m pretty sure something was gone, but Andrea’s not big on keeping an inventory.”

  “You...inventory your computer equipment?” Max blinked.

  “Of course. I have different external drives for every project and back-ups of my back-ups.” Crystal rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, so where does this leave us?” Max asked, his gaze sliding toward Zain.

  “Crystal is going to go home to record and upload a vlog. Max, can you help write her a script? I want to connect with my guys, pitch in, see if I can find our guy on the footage,” Zain said. “Once we have a visual, we can use facial recognition to get us a name. From there, it’s just detective work to track him down.”

  “Can I help with the security tape stuff after I record?” Crystal asked. “I’ll sign an NDA. Anything. Just let me help.”

  The last thing Zain wanted was Crystal plugged into the Aegis network. But she was also motivated, driven, and skilled.

  “Maybe. I’ll have to talk to our ops guy, but your priority needs to be getting the vlog out to as many people as possible, plus, watch the comments for someone taking credit. Could be our guy will out himself.” Zain could, in theory, approve her, but he’d rather run it by an impartial party.

  “I’ve got reports to fill out so we can keep up to speed here. I don’t plan on leaving for a while, if you want to work from here.” Max gestured at the empty table along one side of the office.

  “Works for me,” Zain said. He’d recovered his gear from the rental before it’d been towed, so he could work from anywhere, though he’d need a charge before too much longer.

  “Okay, let’s bring her home, guys.”

  Zain couldn’t agree more.

  Andrea squeezed her thighs together. She’d been here—how long? And she really had to pee.

  Footsteps thumped toward her from her left. Last she’d heard, the guy had been on her right. She swung her head toward the sound, struggling to make anything out through the black fabric, but it was too dark.

  She held her breath.

  He was right there.

  In front of her.

  Thump-thump.

  He was close enough she could feel his presence, the way the floor vibrated with each step.

  A hand grasped the bag, catching strands of her hair, and jerked it off. Her head snapped forward, her chin almost bouncing off her chest as he ripped the bag away. She hissed at the pinpricks of pain along her scalp.

  He crouched in front of her, the bag fisted in one hand.

  It was dark. Night had fallen. But there was enough light from the kitchen to make out his face. He stared at her, his head tilted to the side, his hair falling over his brow.

  Crazy.

  He was batshit crazy.

  “What kind of processor are you running?” he asked.

  “What?” Did he think she was a robot?

  “Your gaming system.”

  “Uh...” Was he serious? Did he want to talk about her tower? Was that what this was about?

  “You have a lot of external hard drives,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said slowly.

  “What’s on them?”

  “Lots of stuff...”
r />   “Like?”

  “Pictures? TV shows?” What did he want? Why would he ask something like that?

  “Do you bring your work home with you?”

  “No. We aren’t allowed to. If I work from home, I log into the network and use a virtual desktop.”

  “Everyone breaks the rules though.” His smile was...cold. Disturbed.

  “Yeah, no. Not with work.” She shook her head and leaned back, trying to get as far away from him as she could.

  “Where do you keep your files, then?” He shoved at the arm of the chair, sending her scooting back several inches.

  “What do you mean? Files go on the C drive.”

  He lunged forward, his hands gripping her wrists. She could smell liquor on his breath. This close, his irises were way too big, dilated.

  Great. She’d been kidnapped by a drunk lunatic.

  “The files. Where do you hide your files?” He put too much emphasis on “the” files.

  “What files? Which ones?” She cringed as his grip tightened.

  “Back when Dark Matter bought Grunge—you hid files. Where are they?” He was so close she could smell the stink of his breath. He pressed down on her wrists, pinning them to the wooden armrests with his full weight.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She winced and screwed her eyes shut.

  “Yes, you do. Think!” He stood up and pulled out a knife, the blade catching the light and reflecting it back at her.

  Her breath caught in her throat. What exactly was he going to do with that? She sucked in a deep breath, then another.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please. I’d only been working for Grunge for a year when Dark Matter bought Miranda out. I don’t know anything. Please—don’t.” She pushed the chair back, scooting across the hardwood floor, edging away from him.

  “You took files off the network. Where are they?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “You’re lying.” He took a step, closing the distance, and pressed the tip of the blade to her forearm.

  “I’m not! I swear. We used to go back and forth, before Cliff bought Grunge. We used our personal machines all the time because Miranda couldn’t keep up. We used our own stuff, but when Cliff bought the company, we stopped. I surrendered my old laptop. I didn’t take anything.”