by Kat Bastion
“I guess we’re all human, flawed. None are perfect, but Cade and Kiki’s parents come pretty damn close, I suppose. Even then, I think their parents hit a rough patch when Cade was in high school.”
“But their parents still loved them through it all, right?” Her voice broke halfway through.
My heart broke with it. That she’d had to endure horrific pain so young. Alone.
I put a comforting arm around her and pulled her close, gently rubbing her shoulder. If she needed to go down the path, face her massive anaconda, I’d destroy it for her any way I could. And so, I told her the truth. “Yeah, they did. If I had to pick a set of parents, if any of us really had a choice between our own and someone else’s, we’d probably all pick the Michaelsons’. For all their understandable faults, they have a pretty cool family.”
“Who has the worst?”
“Don’t know. I’m an only child of an alcoholic mentally abusive father and a codependent mother.”
Her fingers drummed once on my jeans. “The child of a criminal alcoholic about-to-be-incarcerated father and his soon to be prison-widow mother.”
I coughed out a laugh. “Thanks for that distinction.”
She dropped a single nod with a smirk. “No probs.”
“But really, none of us besides Cade’s family had it all that great. Mase’s dad is an uncaring career politician and his mom’s a snobbish socialite. They only had kids because their social circles expected it and any family outings gave great media optics: boosted approval ratings and garnered votes. Kids served as useful career props for them.”
“Rough.”
“Yeah. It’s why Mase surfs. At first, surfing for him and his brother was just to escape an unloving family life. Now it’s his passion. The only place he feels free.”
“Kind of like Loading Zone for you. That nightclub is your passion.”
“More like an obsession.”
“But Loading Zone is so much more than just your business. It’s not just a place where you escape, or become free. They’ve become your family.”
“Not just my family. Now your family too.”
“So Mase and you hung out a lot at the Michaelsons’ house?”
“All the time. Why we’re so close. But we’re not the only ones the Michaelsons opened their home to. Hannah got tucked into the fold; she had an absentee mother and a sperm-donor father, was raised by her grandparents until they died. Similar story with Kiki’s boyfriend, Darren. Darren and his sister never knew their dad, and after their mom struggled for years with depression, they...well...they lost her.”
Didn’t need to dredge up those details. Wasn’t my story to tell. And not the point anyway.
Shay went quiet.
She didn’t need to say aloud how bad hers had been. The story lay hidden in her questions, her sadness and hesitation. Whatever her family past, it’d been bad enough for her to run away from. And I got the feeling she hadn’t ever wanted to go back.
Trust doesn’t come easy for you. Why I didn’t push her for something she wasn’t yet ready to share. If and when she felt safe enough to do it with me, I’d be there for her.
When the silence dragged on, I tucked her tighter against me. “We’re all your family too now.”
Her tense muscles relaxed as she exhaled. “Even Cade and Kiki’s parents?”
“Yup. Even Victoria and Garrett. They’ve taken in strays ever since I’ve known them.”
“Hey!” She shoved herself away from me. “I’m not a stray.”
“Aren’t you?” I thought about my unstable childhood. How alone I’d felt. And how many times I’d escaped to anywhere that wasn’t my house. “Aren’t we all?”
All of a sudden, she startled, her brows lowered, then she leaned away from me and pulled out her pink phone from her back pocket.
“Rafe,” she murmured as she swiped the screen to retrieve the text.
I saw the message when she angled the screen toward me. Two words.
All set.
Great. Am I? My head spun with the enormity of what she’d suggested, how to right my father’s wrong.
Shay pocketed the phone then stared hard at me. “We can do this. We have to.”
“You say that as if we have no choice.”
“We always have a choice.”
Depended on perspective though, didn’t it?
I’d been fighting while paying my dues, treating people with dignity, and earning every penny and ounce of respect along the way.
She’d battled her way by beating the system, taking without asking, and justifying by judging her entitled victims.
“You’re asking me to ignore everything I’ve ever believed in.”
Those intense green eyes held me accountable. “I am.”
Because in one rare brief moment, for the very first time, we had the power to make a life-changing difference to more lives than either of us had been able to impact before.
Save countless lives. Even at the risk of our own.
The flash drive burned a hole in my pocket, branded the decision in my mind.
There’d never been any real choice. I realized that now. But I took ownership of our dangerous next step and vowed to have it make all the difference in the world.
I gave her a soft kiss, then whispered, “I’m in.”
No matter the consequences.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Later that afternoon, I stared at an old corrugated steel building that had been emblazoned with a large skull and crossbones and a glowing red VIRTUAL PIRATES sign.
The three of us stood in a potholed parking lot inside a rougher industrial area on the outskirts of Philly. A group of five preteen kids skateboarded up, scraped to a halt, then tucked their boards under their arms and entered the business through its solid metal door.
Shay tore her gaze from the entrance, stared up at me with a frown, then glanced at Rafe. “You’re sure it’s safe?”
Rafe gave a hard nod. “You’ll see.”
I stepped forward, determined to carry out our felonious plan. Shay had come up with the idea and Rafe had connected us to the talent, but the responsibility for the events we were about to set into motion fell on my shoulders alone.
I yanked open the door and was blasted with deafening sound that vibrated my chest cavity. Bass thumped under technofunk that spooled so fast, it jumpstarted my heart like a defibrillator shock.
The rest of the assault to the senses?
We’d stepped into a virtual warzone.
Of kids.
Playing games.
Intermittent bright lights flashed from every corner of cavernous darkness. Invisible speakers blared a cacophony of electronic noise. Bomb detonations exploded. Gunfire erupted. A group of kids that’d been huddled around a giant screen shouted in triumph and jumped from various seating surfaces. Their screen flashed blinding white before it fizzled in a rain shower of pixels that transformed from gray into black.
Shay seemed impervious to all the blinding lights and deafening sounds. Instead, she walked through the room, inspecting the place. She toured gaming suites that lined the perimeter of the expansive room. Each space had its own giant monitor, a half dozen black microfiber club chairs, and twice as many kids, aged from kindergarten to some looking ready to graduate high school.
When we reached a narrow hallway, she peered through tall windows beside doors on her left, then her right. Rafe and I silently followed. But after she remained frozen for several seconds, attention glued to whatever existed on the other side of that glass, I eased in beside her.
Nine little ones, six boys and three girls who couldn’t be much past kindergarten, sat behind tables custom-made for their height. They each stared at their own open laptop that had black screens with lines of green characters glowing brightly. The walls beyond them had been painted in foot-wide vertical color stripes. Movie posters featuring Wolverine, Deadpool, and Batman—from The Dark Knight, of course—had been tacked on.
Sure. Rainbows and antiheroes.
Shay’s shoulder bumped against mine, weight behind it as if she’d swayed. With a sudden jerk, her hand clasped mine. She wove our fingers together then tightened with a solid grip, as if she needed an anchor.
I gave her a firm squeeze back. Whatever you need.
As we watched, an adult stepped into our line of sight. The children’s instructor appeared to be a young woman with a slight build, long straight brown hair, and a full tattoo sleeve on her right arm that ran down from under the short sleeve of her faded T-shirt. She turned as one of the children asked her a question, then she glanced up at us. She smiled and held a finger up, a signal for us to wait.
“C’mon.” Rafe walked behind us and held a hand up toward the instructor beyond the window. “We can wait back in her office.”
Shay sucked in a deep breath, like she’d forgotten to breathe. “Why have I never heard of this place?”
“You did.” He stopped halfway down the hall, then pegged her with a hard look for a beat before his eyes softened. “I tried to get you to come here from the start. You weren’t interested.”
“You should have tried harder.”
He coughed out a dry laugh, then we continued down the hall. “Yeah, right. You know what you were like back then.”
“Skittish.”
“And hardheaded.”
Sounds familiar. “And I bet you trusted no one.”
He gave a nod as he held the door open for us, then we entered a large office area. He cast me a knowing look. “Our girl’s come a long way.”
“She sure has.” Even in the last couple of weeks.
An elbow jabbed my ribs. “Ow.” I glared at her and rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”
“What’s with this ‘our girl’? I don’t belong to either of you.” She tugged her hand free from mine to emphasize the point. “And I still don’t trust anyone.”
Rafe arched a critical brow and pointed at me, then himself. No words required. The evidence spoke for itself. We wouldn’t be here with her if she hadn’t begun to trust.
She crossed her arms, defiant as ever. “Much.” She mumbled the correction under her breath, bristling at his point but willing to accept the truth of it.
“And you are most definitely my girl.” I put my arm around her, pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. “It doesn’t take anything away from who you are. It also means that I’m your guy. That I have part of me to give, only to you.”
The hard set of her shoulders softened, and she glanced up at me with a slight smile.
Seconds later, before we’d had a chance to take in our surroundings, the kindergartner instructor burst in. She clapped hard once, then rubbed her palms together. A wicked kind of excitement sparked in her eyes. “Well, kids, what nefarious act have you brought for me today?”
Relief and anxiety warred within me.
She wasn’t much older than Shay. Definitely not older than me.
But the young woman oozed unmistakable confidence. Like whatever criminal tasks we asked of her would be no big deal because she’d done thousands before us, and we’d be nothing more than a blip on her radar before she went on to do a million more after we’d gone.
When I glanced at Shay, our ringleader and the one with the deets on her plan, she held my gaze for a moment.
Trust me she seemed to say with a steady look. “Break the FBI seal on frozen investment and bank accounts. Then steal the stolen money back from the thief.”
The woman stared at Shay with a dumbfounded look. Then she whistled low. “FBI, SEC, and FDIC. One multi-leg transfer?”
Shay gave a slight headshake. She pulled out the flash drive I’d given her on the train, then placed it on a narrow worktable that jutted from the wall. “Hundreds, I think. Maybe more.”
The woman kept her assessing gaze locked on to Shay. “That’s a massive risk. We break that invisible crime-scene tape by breaking that freeze, we’re talkin’ federal crime. You prepared for the consequences if you’re caught?”
Shay and I had discussed it. Briefly. The woman meant one felony count for each hacked transfer. Two, if the law counted the federal-level breach itself. “Have you ever been caught?” Has it gotten warm in here? Sweat beaded across my brow.
Rafe chuckled.
The woman shot me an incredulous look.
“I’m a ghost. Let’s see if you can be too.” Challenge lurked under the woman’s words.
Shay eased out of my hold and stared hard at me, then her lips twitched. “Danger. Intrigue. Big-ass payoff for a lot of hardworking people. Think you can handle it?”
Risk federal prison? A six-by-eight jail cell right next to good ol’ Dad?
No one got a guarantee when they stuck their neck out. But someone had to do the right thing. And if not us, then who?
I blew out a harsh breath, decision made. All in. “What the fuck...let’s do this.”
I had no idea how our actions now would settle with me later. But my welfare didn’t matter. We were the only ones who had both the means and the motivation.
But the inevitable fallout?
I hugged Shay tight to my side again and squeezed her shoulder. Some to comfort her, more for me.
Maybe with the talent we’d enlisted, we’d leave no trail. Remain invisible. Protect everyone.
Still, my stomach churned. I’d rocketed so far out of my atmosphere, I struggled to breathe the thin foreign air.
Stop with all the fucking worry. You committed. It’s done.
I pulled Shay closer, into a fierce half-hug.
My girl was a phenomenal ghost herself.
Hopefully she’d teach newbie criminal me how to be one too.
Shay…
“You’re crushing me,” I muttered as I wriggled out of Ben’s death-hold.
But when I glanced up, my heart ached for him.
The poor guy looked ready to crack.
A deep wrinkle creased between his brows. That dark bearded jaw clenched. Without me under his arm as a human stress-ball, his hands fisted, then relaxed, then fisted again.
He’d obviously stepped out of his comfort zone the moment we walked into the gaming center.
Try again. He’d stepped out of the safety of his world the moment he met me.
Still, he’d learned of the danger, then the increased risks, and kept walking by my side anyway.
I took his hand and gave it a solid squeeze.
He squeezed back, then exhaled, muscles relaxing a degree. He needed to be grounded, remember why we’d come. Not to break the law. To help those in need. By giving them back their own damn money.
A teenaged boy burst into the room with a tray of four to-go coffee cups. He pulled out each cup, lining them up in front of chairs that were tucked under a long, narrow worktable. “Here you go, Heart.”
“Heart?” I glanced at our hacker.
“Harriet.” She grabbed the coffee nearest the wall and swept a pointed finger at the three of us, then toward the remaining cups. “After my grandmother. But everybody calls me Heart.”
Ben hooked a thumb toward his chest. “I’m—”
“No,” Heart interrupted. “No names. Better that way.”
“Got it.” Ben lifted one of the cups, took a sip, then nodded toward the far wall. “What are all those?”
I lifted my coffee and turned toward the wall. Rafe grabbed the last cup, cocked a chair out and took a seat, then leaned back, watching the rest of us.
Large wire cubbies stretched from corner to corner, floor to ceiling, on that wall. In each cubby of the top seven rows, various-sized laptops leaned at an angle against one another. The bottom few rows had a crate in each cubby, each crate filled with like-kind items: electronics, cords, smaller memory sticks, external hard drives. A library ladder hooked onto a rail three-quarters of the way up.
“Burner supplies.” She scanned across her impressive hardware collection, searching, focusing either on some actual cataloging system or
a mental list she’d committed to memory. With a nod, she planted her coffee on the worktable. She then glided the library ladder over to the far right, climbed up to the top row, and grabbed one of the laptops. With a waggle of the laptop, she glanced down at Ben. “I’ve preprogrammed each one for specific tasks. This one’s got a worm that’ll break down their walls.”
Ben and I took seats in the padded folding chairs while she returned, took her own chair, then plugged in his dad’s drive. Fingers flew over keys with muted clicks. The screen flashed from one data set to the next.
“This is gonna be a while.” Heart didn’t glance up...or stop typing.
But an enormous flat screen on the wall suddenly illuminated to life, mirroring what Heart’s laptop showed. Numbers began to scroll up the screen in columns and rows faster and faster, each growing indistinguishable as it morphed into a pulsing dance of bright green pixels.
After another few minutes of tense silence, Rafe stood. “Yeah, I’m out.” He downed the rest of his coffee, crumpled the cup, then tossed it into the trashcan by the door. He planted one hand on the door and the other half-turned the knob before he paused. He glanced over his shoulder at me, then shifted his gaze to Ben. “Gotta open the club. We good?”
Ben stood and crossed the room. The two clasped and embraced in a half-hug with a clap on each other’s backs.
When they parted, they stared hard at each other for a long moment. Ben gave a single nod. “More than good.”
Then Rafe slipped out the door.
Ben turned and stared at the giant screen of dancing numbers. Arms crossed, shoulders set, feet planted shoulder width apart, he dropped his head a fraction.
Tension vibrated into the air as Heart clicked away, oblivious to all the heavy emotion behind her.
But I wasn’t oblivious. His discomfort hit me hard, dead center in the chest.
“You okay?” Dumb question. He wasn’t. But stupid-obvious seemed the best place to start.
“Yeah.”
Liar.
He gusted out a sigh. “No.”
Better. I’d almost called him on it. But he knew the harsh truth. What we were doing wasn’t easy. And it was hard as hell for someone like him, a guy who’d been battered by those who hadn’t given enough of a damn about him, one who had a lot to lose—for himself and many others who depended on him—if he ever got caught.