ReBoot (MAC Security Series Book 4)

by Abigail Davies

  “Are you sure?” I take a breath. “Me? You’re going to help me?”

  He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head and watches me as I battle with my own thoughts.

  Can I do this? Can I let these people help me to have a better life, or shall I go it alone and hope that someone will employ me with my history? Fat chance of that happening.

  “Fine,” I finally say after several minutes before whispering, “Thank you.”

  Jake stands up, smoothing out his shirt. “Good. Ready?”

  “As much as I’ll ever be.” I follow him as he heads toward the main door. He pushes it open, the fresh air hitting me in the face with such brutal force that it makes my breath catch in my throat.

  Even though we had outside time a couple of times a day, it never felt like this. The air smells cleaner—fresher. The green of the trees that surround the whole prison is vibrant, and I can almost smell the sap that flows through the wood. It’s like stepping out of a black and white movie and into full HD color. I can’t stop staring at all of the colors, the smells overtaking my entire being as I close my eyes and treasure every single second.

  “Alexis?” My eyes spring open and I twist my head around to face Jake. The knowing look on his face tells me that this isn’t the first time he’s witnessed something like this. “Let’s get you home.”

  Home.

  I haven’t heard that word since I was a kid. The last time I felt at home was when I was a little girl at my grandma’s, baking cookies and making lemonade before running around the park opposite her house, trying to catch butterflies.

  A lump forms in my throat at the thought of her and the funeral I wasn’t allowed to attend because I was locked up behind barbed wire and living inside four concrete walls. I was determined that nothing would break me while I was locked away, but that? That shattered my heart and created a dark shadow around my soul that I don’t think will ever disappear.

  I push those thoughts aside—I’ve become good at that, blocking things out—as I step fully out of the door and follow Jake to his dark red car. I climb into the passenger side before placing the clear bag on the floor and wrapping my arms around myself, my eyes not leaving the brick building of the prison as he reverses out of the parking spot.

  I stare out of the side mirror as it recedes in the background, becoming nothing but a dot as Jake drives down the road.

  I’ll never be back here, I promise myself.

  I stare out of the window and watch in awe as we drive through the town that will be my new home. As soon as we passed the sign and the town border, a sense of peace washed over me. Something that I’ve never felt before.

  Trees line most of the sidewalks along with streetlights that look more like lanterns than actual lights, and there’s a few shops all on one main street. It feels like the epitome of small-town living: I love it.

  I catch my reflection in the mirror, the grin on my face so wide that my cheeks look like they’re going to pop any second. Turning slowly, I catch Jake’s eye and he smiles gently. He’s definitely not what I thought a parole officer would look like. I can see the bulge of his muscles straining against his shirt and the colorful tattoos on his arms dancing underneath the fabric.

  His square jaw and scruff that runs along it make him look both trendy and also a little rough around the edges, but it’s his eyes that tell a different story. There’s fire that dances behind them and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.

  I’ve always been good at reading people, as soon as I meet someone and look into their eyes, I can tell what kind of person they are—at least I think I can, I haven’t been wrong yet. Having that sixth sense about people has served me well, especially in prison.

  “You’re going to like it here, Alexis,” Jake says, coming to a stop at a set of traffic lights. We’d been at his office for an hour before we started on the thirty-minute drive to my new home. The closer we get, the worse my nerves become, skyrocketing and causing my hands to shake.

  “Lexi,” I whisper back. “Please, call me Lexi.”

  He nods in reply and taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that’s playing on the radio. I have no idea who it is; I can’t remember the last time I listened to music and danced around my bedroom like nothing else in the world matters.

  “We’ll get you settled and then I’ll take you to meet your new boss.”

  “Okay,” I answer, looking back out of the passenger window.

  A thousand things run through my mind as Jake starts driving again—what will the house be like? What will my job be? What will my boss be like? Where am I going to get new clothes? Am I going to be able to afford new clothes?

  I get lost in the endless questions spinning around in my mind. It feels like a vortex taking over my brain and I have to squeeze my eyes closed and take a deep breath to try and calm them.

  “Lexi?”

  “Huh?”

  “We’re here.”

  I take one more deep breath before opening my eyes and seeing the house that he’s stopped in front of. The engine dies and the car is basked in silence as I stare out at the street that is lined with homes and immaculate front yards.

  I turn to face him, watching as he tilts his head at the house on the other side of the road, signaling that it’s my new home.

  The house isn’t anything like what I thought it was going to be, for some reason I thought it was going to be a huge dark house, but it’s not. It looks like every single other house on the street: light and quaint. The white siding wraps around the whole house that looks to be all on one level. The front yard looks like it’s tended to by someone with a green thumb, the grass a bright vivid green with pots of flowers lining the path that leads to three stairs where a short, elderly woman stands watching the car with a soft smile on her face.

  “This is—”

  “Home,” Jake interrupts, opening his door and waiting patiently for me to get out of the car.

  My shaking hand reaches for my bag on the floor before I pull on the door handle and push the door open, stepping out and looking around at the quiet street.

  I’ve never been to a place like this; where I grew up you were lucky if you had a four-foot square of concrete in front of your house.

  I slowly walk to Jake where he waits at the bottom of the path and together we walk toward the lady that is waiting patiently.

  “Livvy?” The woman in front of us nods. “This is Alexis Deacon. Lexi, this is Livvy.”

  “Hi,” I squeak, wrapping my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together and make myself as small as I possibly can.

  “Livvy is one of our volunteers for the program,” Jake continues.

  My eyes widen and I search Jake’s eyes. “I thought I was going in a house where there’s…” I wince. “Others like me.”

  Jake’s lip quirks up at the corner as Livvy holds her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, lovely.”

  I swallow, my throat suddenly dry as I extend my hand to hers. “Thank you,” I blurt out. “I mean—nice to thank you—no…” I shake my head at myself and my mouth that is just spitting random words out. “I meant—”

  “I know what you meant.” She smiles, chuckling softly. “Let’s go in and have a glass of lemonade.” She leaves no room for argument as she spins around and makes her way up the steps and through the light-green wooden door with Jake following behind her.

  I take one last look around, my mind telling me that this is temporary, people like me don’t get to live in places like this. But my heart is singing as it feels like I’m finally home. I marvel at the houses before finally my gaze lands on the door and I make my way inside.

  “It’s not much, but it’s safe and you can make it your own.”

  I look around the room that I’ll now call home: it has a queen-sized bed with white bedding that looks so soft, just the thought of wrapping myself in that instead of the scratchy things I’ve been so used to for the last five h
as me feeling giddy.

  Once we were inside, Jake explained everything to me. That the program wouldn’t be possible without volunteers like Livvy. They take in young people like me and set them up with a safe place to stay, helping them adjust to outside life while offering support and a caring environment. It’s meant to be a stepping stone; to help me save up enough money to get my own place and become fully independent and able to live a normal life—but what is normal anyway?

  I have two days to settle in before I start my new job: a job that I never thought I’d have. It’s all so surreal that I don’t even know where to start; I don’t know what to think or what to do.

  I step forward, looking at the little knickknacks that are on top of the set of drawers that sits under the window before my gaze wanders outside to the backyard that is in much the same condition as the front.

  “It’s so green,” I blurt out.

  “What’s that, lovely?” Livvy asks.

  I point out of the window, my gaze not moving from the grass. “I’ve never seen grass that green before.”

  She walks toward me, standing at my side and looking out of the window in much the same way that I am. “I suppose it is, isn’t it?”

  I nod in reply and continue to stare. I’ve only been here an hour but already I feel at ease around Livvy. I’m usually closed off, but there’s something in her eyes that has me relaxing.

  “You ready to go?” Jake asks, startling me as he knocks on the door.

  I jump, my hand landing on my chest as I spin around. “I—erm…” I shake my head, trying to collect myself before I look down at the clothes that were given to me from the prison to come out in. They’re too big and not exactly “meeting the boss” material.

  “Don’t worry about them,” he says, as if he'd read my mind. “He knows you’ve only just got out, the job is already yours. You can get new clothes with your money afterward.”

  “Wait… what?” I shake my head, trying to take all of this information in. I woke up this morning in a small bed, surrounded in scratchy sheets, not fully prepared to be on the other side of the locked gates and in this beautiful home, around people who are willing to help.

  “Money?” I ask, confused by what he’s saying.

  “Yeah,” he says, leaning against the side of the doorframe. “You worked jobs while you were inside. ” He reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a piece of paper. “What you used for commissary has been taken out and this is what you have left.”

  My eyes widen as he then pulls out an envelope and hands it out to me. “I…” I step forward, taking it out of his hand and opening it up, seeing a cashier’s check made out to me for eight hundred dollars.

  For five years I’ve worked the jobs that pay only a few cents an hour, but it builds up, and I never really spent much anyway, only getting the essentials when I needed them. When you’re inside with nothing else to do, all you want to do is keep busy, so working all the hours I could was all that mattered. Not only that but to keep out of the firing line too.

  Being around that many women, a lot of them dangerous, is a precarious place to be, and more than once I’ve taken the brunt of their anger. At times, I felt like I had a big red arrow above my head; begging them to say something to me, to do something, to take advantage of me and remove my choices without me being able to do anything about it.

  “You need to pay Livvy your first month’s rent and that way you’ll be ahead before you start your job.”

  “Of course,” I murmur, nodding my head, still shocked by the amount of money that I have.

  “We’ll sort all that out when you come back, lovely,” Livvy interjects, stepping forward and placing her hand on my shoulder before patting it gently. “You just go and meet your boss and then we can plan the next few days and get you settled in properly.”

  I lift my head, my eyes meeting her dark-blue ones before they flit over her light gray hair that’s styled into a stylish bob. “Okay.”

  She smiles softly at me and I clear my throat, dropping my clear plastic bag on the end of the bed with the envelope before pushing my shoulders back and meeting Jake’s eyes. “Let’s do this.”

  I reach my arms high above my head, stretching out the aching muscles in my back. I’ve been sitting at my computer now for six hours straight. I say computer, what I really mean is two keyboards hooked up to four screens, and this is just my home computer. The one in the warehouse has even more screens.

  I tend to get lost when I press my finger on the space bar and bring it to life, the LCD screens drawing me into their web and not letting me go for many hours at a time. Whether I’m playing a game, writing code, or making a new device; I like to drift to that place in my mind where everything is quiet and nothing else but what is in front of me matters.

  “Evan?” I jump at the voice and spin around in my chair, almost slipping off it at how fast I turn.

  I grab the edge of my desk to stop myself from falling, my eyes connecting with Geena’s dark-blue ones before scanning the rest of her face. Her lips are pulled into a grim line and her foot is tapping against the floor where she sits on my couch that also pulls out into a bed.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice small and betraying me, but I really don’t want to rile her up by talking too loud. “I didn’t realize you were—”

  “Here?” she interrupts.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, standing up and straightening my t-shirt out that is full of creases. Her eyes narrow even further when she sees what I’m wearing—one of the many slogan t-shirts that I own.

  I swallow against my dry throat, my feet shuffling on the floor as the atmosphere becomes thicker.

  “You don’t even remember, do you?”

  “Erm…” I frown, having no idea what she’s talking about.

  She throws her hands up in the air. “You were meant to meet me at my place!”

  I cringe as she shouts, hating how it fills the small space of my cabin. She always does this, she thinks that the louder she shouts the more impact she’ll have when it’s really the opposite. As soon as she raises her voice, I freeze, my mind taking me back to a time when that’s all that ever happened.

  I’ve never told her about my childhood—about my past—all she knows is that I was adopted at nine years old. It isn’t that I didn’t want to tell her, it’s that I knew she didn’t want to know. I’ve never felt like I wanted to open up about it anyway, and maybe I never will. But that’s okay because I have my own way of dealing with it. I may be an adult now, but those memories will never fade. I can close my eyes right now and see and hear everything as clear as if it was happening to me in the present instead of the past.

  Movement brings me out of my own head and I watch as she stands up, her mouth still moving as she continues to shout. My ears buzz with white noise as I stare at her with wide eyes, not one word of what she’s saying getting through to me.

  It isn’t until she storms past me, shoving her shoulder into my chest and making me stumble backward that the white noise stops. The slamming of my door vibrates against the walls causing my muscles to unlock and I finally manage to move, pulling the door open and following her out.

  Her head whips around, her eyes narrowing in on me before she spins back around.

  “You’re fucking useless! Why the fuck I put up with you, I don’t know!”

  “Geena,” I plead, following her across the gravel that covers the whole compound.

  I reach out for her but she pushes me away, making me stumble again.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” she screams. My eyes widen as I see her face covered in a mask of pure anger.

  I open my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.

  “Hey!” a voice shouts and when I look over, I see Kitty standing in front of her place, boxes surrounding her as she moves out of the compound and into her own place with Charlie. She steps forward but I give her a look and a quick shake of my head, telling her—begging her—not to
get involved. The last thing I need is any of the guys witnessing this. She comes to a halt but I can see that she wants to say something—do something.

  The sound of a car door shutting echoes around the compound and I watch as Geena speeds over the gravel, dust kicking up as the gates open and she drives through them before another car pulls inside.

  “Evan?”

  “Not now, Kitty,” I sigh, looking at the ground and slumping my shoulders forward before walking back into my cabin.

  It’s all my fault, if I hadn’t have gotten so engrossed in my computer then I would have remembered that I was meant to be at her place. I should have set an alarm on my phone. Stupid, stupid!

  I stand by my front door, looking into the small cabin that I call home. Geena hates this place, much preferring me coming to hers instead. She’s constantly telling me that I got the raw end of the deal, that the other houses on the compound are so much nicer and that it isn’t fair that they got those houses and I ended up with this.

  It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her that I don’t want and never did want one of the other houses; it never seems to sink in. This is me. This cabin is where I feel the most relaxed. I don’t need a big house with five bathrooms and eight bedrooms.

  Having too much space with lots of hiding spaces makes me nervous, but then she wouldn’t understand that because she doesn’t know what used to happen to me.

  The cabin is basically one giant room of open space. As soon as you walk through the door, you step into the living room/bedroom/office/kitchen. My computers sit off to the right along with my chair that cost more money than anything else I own apart from my car, but it’s a pretty freaking cool chair. The black and red leather that covers it houses speakers: it’s a special shape that helps your back from aching when sitting for long periods of time.

  Then in the middle I have my couch pushed up against the wall that pulls out into a double bed, to the left of that is a small kitchen, just enough for me to cook something simple. Next to that is a door that leads into a shower room along with another door that is storage for my clothes and that’s it… it’s all I need.