by Danika Stone
“You need to listen, Jude. I don’t want you doing anything stupid,” Patel continued calmly. “Mr. Fischer would like to talk to you. He’s waiting in the car over there.”
Jude glanced around the street, catching sight of Luca waiting next to a black limousine, smirking. Jude turned his attention the other direction, desperate for escape. The alley was too far, the hospital parking lot too empty, not enough people on the sidewalk to make an effective distraction. He felt as if a noose was closing around his neck, tightening until he couldn’t breathe. He tugged slightly, and Patel’s fingers tightened into a claw.
“Be smart, kid, and you might just live to talk about this.”
They reached the car and the back door opened. King sat inside, his coat folded across his lap. The gun jabbed Jude in the ribs again and he stumbled forward, half-climbing, half-crawling into the vehicle. Luca came in behind him, Patel heading up to the front, joining the driver. Jude’s eyes darted this way and that, fear slowing time down until it passed in milliseconds. Luca slid in next to Jude, his arm slung over the back of the seat as if they were good friends. Jude made a whimpering sound, terror a physical force within him.
‘Oh God, Elliot! I’m so fucking sorry!’
“Luca,” King said. “Could you pass me the folder?”
Luca nodded, reaching for a briefcase on the floor and pulling it onto his lap. He snapped open the buckles, retrieving a large manila folder marked with a red tab. He offered it to King, but he shook his head.
“To Mr. Alden here,” King said, his ringed hand gesturing loosely to Jude.
Luca swivelled, dropping the folder onto Jude’s lap. He stared at it, unmoving.
“This is your next project,” King said tersely. There was no option for refusal.
Jude lifted the cover with one finger, looking inside. Seeing the contents, he felt gravity shift, vertigo threatening to topple him where he sat. There were pictures of people – some taken with long-distance lenses, others pulled from online sites – and on each page were their addresses, and their names.
Claudia Hernandez
Dominic Abrina
Blaine Shands
William Perry
Chan-sook Choi
Lorelei Stokell
Jude’s eyes paused on the last name, blood rushing in his ears. The accompanying photograph showed a petite, dark haired woman in a sharply cut suit. She was posed next to her husband and two teenage sons, a Corgi at her feet.
Francesca Williams
Jude recognized her.
Ms. Williams was the new Police Commissioner. She’d been on the news only days earlier, speaking about the need to crack down on criminal activities in the city, holding the Mayor to his pre-election offers of support. Jude looked back to King, the screaming in his mind incoherent. Random flashes of memory kept intruding in the present: his father with his elbows on the dinner table… Elliot sitting next to Jude on the front steps of the brownstone… Jude sitting in the Dean’s office, his mother sobbing… He blinked, refocusing on the image of Fran Williams.
“W-what is this?”
“You’ve proven you can hack your way into even the most protected computers,” King began. “And I want into these people’s lives.” He smiled coldly. “I want access to all of their private files and documents. I want every secret, every lie, every detail you can find on them.”
“Why?” The question was barely a whisper.
King’s expression flickered with dark humor.
“Oh Jude,” he chuckled. “In light of the recent events with Mr. Baird, I’m not sure you really want me to answer that.”
Jude swallowed convulsively, Elliot’s body, covered in tubes, in his mind’s eye.
“I… I…” Jude wanted to deny him, but he couldn’t make the words come out.
King leaned forward, elbows on knees. This close and Jude could see his face was pockmarked from acne, the olive skin speckled with darker splotches.
“Luca tells me you are having second thoughts,” King grumbled. “That you said ‘no’ the first time he invited you to start this project. Is that true?”
Jude’s eyes darted to Luca. He was smirking. There was no way out of this lie.
“Y-yes, sir,” Jude gasped. “I did.”
“You realize, Mr. Alden, you’ve seen things… found things, no one else has. Now, I’m giving you a business opportunity. You’d better speak up if you can’t do this.” King’s black eyes were bright and angry, ready to attack.
“I… I can do it.”
Luca chuckled, his hand dropping down and slapping Jude, just a little too hard, on his shoulder. Luca reached back into the briefcase, dropping a wrinkled envelope onto Jude’s lap. There was a coffee ring on one side. It was, he realized, the cash he’d refused to take in the Starbucks.
“Good choice, Mr. Alden,” King chuckled. “Because if you’d said no, we would be having a very different kind of conversation right about now.”
: : : : : : : : : :
When Jude disappeared from her life again, Indigo was glad. It gave her time to get her head together. To decide what the hell she wanted to do with him.
Jude being gone gave her perspective.
For the first few days, she sulked and pouted, glad she didn’t have to face him. He had had no right to search for her mother, her mind argued. And even though she’d told him he could, didn’t mean that he should have done it. If Jude had actually showed up for coffee, she would have told him so herself.
One week passed, and then a weekend, and Indigo’s annoyance began to fade. Now she began to wonder why he wasn’t coming to see her. She was indignant that one stupid argument with him was keeping him away. She spent hours playing the conversation with Jude over and over in her mind. Her reaction, Indigo decided, made perfect sense. It didn’t mean she hadn’t looked at her mother’s address on the jump drive. She had. It just meant she’d been surprised.
She would have said that to his face, given a chance.
She saw Marq at the university twice. He waved at her both times, but she ignored him. Jude wasn’t with him. On Friday, she hung around the Student Union, hoping to run into Jude. On Saturday, drunk and reckless, she texted him.
Where’ve you been, J? Keep this up and I’ll be back to saying maybe again.
Jude never texted back.
The next week began. With the semester coming to a close, Indigo began spending all of her free hours in the campus computer lab, finishing up her video project, hoping Jude would come by. But Jude seemed determined to avoid her, driving Indigo’s impatience into infatuation. She lingered near the Tech Department, hoping to run into him, then stopped by O’Reilly’s twice, wondering if he might be there. He wasn’t.
It was like Jude had packed up his life and disappeared.
The next Wednesday, Indigo was sitting in the Student Union having coffee by herself when Cal Woodrow unexpectedly appeared, pausing next to her table, a pile of books in hand. The two of them made awkward small talk as Indigo searched the crowd for Jude.
She did not want him to see her with Cal again.
“I ran into Cal today,” Indigo told Shireese later that night. “It was a little weird, after what happened, but he was… nice.”
Shireese lifted an eyebrow, not commenting, her eyes on the television
“Cal told me I have an old soul,” Indigo said, half to herself.
Shireese made a choking sound.
“What?” Indigo asked.
“I don’t even want to hear,” Shireese snarled. “Keep your life to yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m sick to death of picking up the pieces for you.”
Indigo was on her feet in seconds, her frustration with Jude’s disappearance, with Cal, and with the fucked-up mess of her life pouring out in anger at her friend.
“I can handle this!” she shouted. “Trust me!”
Shireese glared at her, but didn’t get off the couch.
“Yo
u can’t handle shit! Lookit what you’re doing with Cal. Just ‘cause the paper for the invite’s prettier,” she snarled, “don’t mean it’s a better choice.” Her face was pugnacious, anger in her dark eyes. “Go on! Screw it all up again! But don’t you dare tell me about it!”
“Fuck you!” Indigo bellowed.
Shireese turned back to the television, lifting the remote and increasing the volume to an ear-splitting level as Indigo stormed around the apartment, grabbing items and throwing them into her backpack. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she couldn’t stay here any longer. She pulled on her winter jacket, adding mittens and a hat, slamming the door behind her as she left.
Out on the street, Indigo stood in the ankle-deep snow, her breath rising around her like mist, bits of it freezing in her hair. With a blast of foul language, she started walking toward the subway. She lifted the phone from her pocket, fiddling with the university directory until she located Marq Lopez. The listing didn’t give his apartment number, just the street address. Indigo let out an angry huff, switching to text, and typing out a message with numbed fingertips.
I’m walking to your apartment. Tell me which number it is, or I’m going to start ringing each buzzer until you answer. Not fucking kidding.
She was almost to the subway station when her pocket buzzed.
Jesus, Indigo! It’s FREEZING out! Where are you? I’ll pick you up.
She let out a sobbing laugh, grinning down at the phone. Suddenly everything felt better.
I’m almost at the subway station. Where are you?
There was a pause.
I’m coming to get you. Wait!
Indigo smirked, sending one last text.
Maybe.
Around her the snow was falling again, the whole city swathed in white. She lifted her face to the sky, closing her eyes as it sifted down onto her skin. For once, she wasn’t going to wait for the guy to come after her; she was going to go and get what she wanted.
Chapter 16: Money’s not an Issue
Jude had sworn he wasn’t going to see Indigo again, that he couldn’t risk her getting involved. And while the decision might have been painful, with Elliot slowly recovering in the hospital, he didn’t question that choice… at least most of the time.
The last weeks had been impossibly busy. Jude spent his mornings and afternoons at the Tech Center, his evenings hacking personal accounts for King. But late at night, plagued by insomnia, he had to fight down the urge to call her. Their moments together played out endlessly in his mind. Marq mentioned that he’d seen Indigo in the hallway, a week earlier. Lissa told Jude she’d seen Indigo by the Tech Center twice. Each moment was a reminder of what he couldn’t have.
Jude hated it.
On Saturday, he’d gone down to The Vault with Marq and a few other friends, drinking to forget. Indigo was everywhere in his mind, the lithe young woman who served them drinks and flirted with Marq, a pale comparison to her beauty. Near dawn, Marq and Abhishek had dragged Jude home, leaving him on the floor of the bathroom.
When he’d awoken the next morning, his phone showed one missed message.
Where’ve you been, J? Keep this up and I’ll be back to saying maybe.
He’d almost called her then, only the memory of Elliot’s accusing eyes, ringed by black and purple bruises, tipping the balance. He’d do anything to keep Indigo safe. That determination had held until five minutes ago, when she’d texted him again. He could hear the anger in her words, the concern hidden under that. But more than that he was terrified by what she’d said.
She was walking downtown, by herself, at night.
It took Jude less than ten minutes to make it to the subway station. Marq was out drinking with Kimbra and a few other techies, so Jude took his car without asking. Worried, he drove faster than the conditions dictated, fear leaving him panicked and sick. Patel’s words kept ringing in his ears.
“You should choose your friends more carefully.”
Reaching the final turn, Jude pulled the wheel hard and the car shimmied. Up ahead he could see Indigo standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself. She was a shadow except for the red mittens and knit hat, a bright glint of color in the night. The car slid to a stop, bumping against the curb, and she glanced up. Jude slammed the vehicle into park, jumping out without turning it off. His body was humming, the weeks of separation heightening the moment.
Indigo smiled.
“How’ve you been?” she called.
“Better now,” he gasped, closing the distance in seconds.
Jude wasn’t sure he’d planned to do it, but seeing her again after so long was too much. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her without permission. She tensed for a moment, her hands stiff at her side, but the second his tongue slid along the crease of her lips, she opened with a moan, softening against him. The car, still idling behind them, was forgotten, the falling snow and the city street disappearing as the whole world fell away.
The connection Jude had felt ever since that long-ago night in O’Reilly’s snapped back as Indigo wrapped her arms around his neck. She tasted like cinnamon, her mittens damp with snow where they pressed against his neck. The kiss grew deeper and more desperate until neither could breathe. When Jude finally pulled back, he was panting. Indigo stared up at him, blue eyes dark.
“I missed you,” Jude said, voice breaking.
“Me too.”
“I’m sorry,” Jude said, struggling to say nothing and everything at once. “I… I should’ve called or something. I fucked up.”
“Wasn’t just you. The stuff about my mom; it surprised me.”
“Indigo, I’m so sorry about—”
Her hands tightened around his neck, dragging him down and kissing him again, cutting off his words. This time the embrace lasted even longer. When they broke apart, Indigo’s hat was down in the snow at their feet, her lips kiss-swollen.
“I’m sorry,” Jude repeated, “I should have asked you before I—”
“I don’t know how to do normal, alright?” she interrupted. “I only know how to fuck things up.” She let out a laugh or a sob. “It’s fine. I understand.”
“It’s not fine, but I…” He cringed. “I had my reasons for taking off.”
He knew he should warn her away: take her home again and cut her out of his life. But when he was holding her, Indigo was the only thing he could think about.
“I have my reasons too,” Indigo said, grinning. “And my reason for calling tonight was to get you to take me home to your place.” She leaned in, pressing herself against his body.
Jude felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. If every one of his night time fantasies had come together, it’d be something like this.
“Marq’s not home,” Jude said, fingers finding hers. “He’s out with Kimbra and Charlie and the other guys. They’re at O’Reilly’s now. There’s a party afterward.”
“Sounds like we have a little time to ourselves then.”
: : : : : : : : : :
Callum stood in the shady alcove of the subway station, his body shaking with grief and rage. When he’d seen Indigo walking downtown tonight, he’d been certain she was going to the train. He’d smiled at his fortune and followed.
Meeting her on her commute was a completely ordinary way he might run into her. It would be an accident; a twist of fate. He would glance over and say “Indigo?” and she’d turn back to him, and they’d talk. It’d be like the day he’d run into her in the Student Union building. She’d been calm with him that afternoon, and he’d been able to say the things he wanted to say without losing his temper.
Now he was furious.
He watched from the shadows as she kissed Jude Alden, the torture dragging out until it was unbearable. Cal’s hands were fists, a line of c’s dug into the palms of his hands. After a few minutes, they began to talk, their words too far away for him to hear. Indigo smiled, then she and Jude climbed into Jude’s red sportscar and left.
Cal reached into his pocket for his cell phone, dialling by memory. He’d called the number at least five times, but had chickened out each time. Not tonight.
“H’lo?” a voice answered.
“Hello,” Cal said. “Can I speak to Marq Lopez?”
“You’re talkin’ to him.”
“Mr. Lopez, I hear you do particular kinds of research into personal information,” Cal said. “The kind of research that might be somewhat… questionable.”
“I do lots of things,” he laughed, “but my price is probably out of your league.”
Cal stared at the end of the dark street where the car had disappeared, his thoughts on the long-ago night when he’d learned Indigo’s secrets, and lost her because of it. There was no price too high to get her back.
“Let’s just say that money isn’t an issue.”
: : : : : : : : : :
Indigo wasn’t sure how they made it from the parking garage all the way to the upper-floor condo but by the time they did, her body was on fire. Wrapped around one another, they’d stumbled into the elevator, Jude pinning her to the wall while they rose upward. On the tenth floor, the elevator had stopped, the bell ringing as the doors opened. They’d broken apart, breathing hard, while an elderly couple made their way inside.
The last few floors had pushed Indigo’s patience to the limit, as she stood next to Jude, unable to touch him.
Reaching Jude’s floor, they ran down the hallway, hand in hand, the thirty seconds too long a time to wait before they could be together. The moment they were inside the apartment, he was kissing her with abandon, his mouth sliding down her jaw, to her neck, then pausing while he fought with the buttons of her coat. Indigo pulled back, panting.
“Bed or couch?” she gasped. “I don’t want rug burn.”
Jude laughed, grabbing her hand and leading her down to his bedroom. It was ascetically empty: just a bed, a desk, a dresser, and computer. Unlike the piles of laundry which formed mounds in the corners of Indigo’s room, Jude’s bedroom made it look like he didn’t own anything at all. Indigo had no time to notice anything else. The second the door was closed, Jude pulled her against him, the two of them stumbling backward to the bed, tearing their clothing off as they went.