ReBoot (MAC Security Series Book 4)

by Abigail Davies

  Well… apart from my safe room below, but no one knows about that.

  There’s nothing on the walls apart from the wood that has been treated: I love the cozy feel. Nothing else compares to it, and I’m proud to call it mine.

  I don’t know how long I stand here for, staring at it all without really thinking of anything in particular, but a knock on my door gains my attention and my breath catches, wondering if Geena came back to tell me off again.

  No, it can’t be her, she wouldn’t have knocked.

  I ignore the slight shake to my hands and the fast beating of my heart at the thought of it being her. I know that I shouldn’t ignore it, I shouldn’t feel like this, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  I take a deep breath, pulling the door open and releasing it as I see Luke standing there, hands on his hips with his head turned toward the warehouse.

  “Luke?”

  “Evan.” He puffs out a breath, turning around and meeting my eyes. His ice-blue ones are guarded, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. “That guy you were looking for for Kitty? He’s here.”

  My brows rise high on my forehead as I step out of my cabin. “Kitty’s guy? Really?”

  “Yeah.” He nods as I jog down the steps onto the gravel and then walk over to the warehouse with him beside me.

  For months now, since Kitty first went to rehab, I’ve been searching for the guy who used to be her bodyguard, but after several emails and messages all with no replies, I started to think that the guy was a ghost.

  “You saw him?” I ask Luke.

  His guarded eyes meet mine and his lips turn into a grim, straight line. “I don’t trust him.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Nope,” he says, popping the p. “Why turn up after all this time?”

  I chuckle and shrug my shoulders, saying simply, “Because Kitty asked him to?”

  Luke makes a noise in the back of his throat before I pull the warehouse door open.

  Everyone is scattered all over the place but my eyes immediately zone in on Dean where he stands in front of my computers, moving the mouse and bringing the screens to life.

  “No!” I shout, darting around the meeting table and over the mats to where he’s standing. “Don’t touch.” My voice comes out weak so I clear my throat. “That’s mine, you don’t touch, nobody touches my things.” I know I sound like a petulant child, but this guy can’t come in here and start touching my stuff.

  “Hey, man, I got it.” He holds his hands up in the air, his mouth pulled up into a smirk as his deep voice surrounds us. “You Evan?”

  “I am.” I nod, crossing my arms over my chest and just now realizing that I’m wearing the same clothes I was yesterday. I really should have at least changed before I came over, but Geena has my head in a mess and I don’t know which way is up and which way is down right now.

  I never know which Geena I’m going to get: whether it’ll be the one that I first met—the kind one, the one who was soft spoken—or whether I’ll get the one who flies off the handle at the smallest thing, who talks down to me.

  “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Dean.” He holds his hand out and I stare at it for a fraction of a second before placing my hand in his and shaking it. “I got your message but I was on an assignment so I couldn’t get back to you, but I tracked you down and figured if you were here then Kitty would be too.”

  I narrow my eyes on him. “How did you track me down?”

  His eyes widen as he stares at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I erm… I pinged the message that you sent me.”

  I watch him for several seconds, not knowing whether to be impressed or suspicious.

  “She’s here,” I finally reply, tilting my head to where she’s standing talking to Ty and Charlie.

  “I know.” He turns around and stands shoulder to shoulder with me. “She’s grown up a lot, eh?”

  “I suppose.” My eyes widen and I cough to cover up the awkwardness that I feel.

  “Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat. “I heard you’re the best there is.”

  “Huh?”

  “The best computer expert—you know you’re a big name in the cyber world?”

  I puff out my chest, a grin widening on my face. “Well… I don’t like to brag, but—” I cut myself off when I realize that the only way he would know that is if he’d been asking about me, which in turn means that he’s been asking about all of us.

  My gaze skirts to his as I assess him. I’m good—no, great—at analyzing people when I first meet them. He’s not giving me any bad juju though, so I let it go and turn to face Kitty as she walks toward us.

  “I see you’ve met the geeky one.” She says this with a smirk on her face so I know she’s joking, but I still throw a palm over my chest as I gasp.

  “You wound me!”

  “Shut up.” She laughs.

  “Shouldn’t you be going off to your new house?” I remark, a grin on my face.

  She pushes me gently on the shoulder, but I grab it, pulling a pained face and groaning. “Damn, Kit, you’re so violent.”

  She snorts and jumps slightly as Charlie comes to stand beside her, his hand wrapping around her waist. “You ready?” he asks.

  “I—well… what about Dean?”

  Dean looks at her and then me, finally turning his attention to where Ty stands leaning against the doorframe to his office, watching us all intently.

  “I’ll be good, you go and set up your new home and I’ll come by tomorrow—I mean, if that’s good with you?”

  “Of course, it is!” She reaches up onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around Dean’s neck. He whispers something to her that I don’t quite catch and she nods her head in reply before pulling back and walking out of the warehouse with Charlie.

  “Evan? I need a word in a couple of hours.”

  “Okay,” I say, looking down at myself. “I’m gonna head home and grab a shower.” I look at Dean and then Ty, puffing my chest out and using my best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, “I’ll be back.”

  Dean laughs and Ty shakes his head but I just smirk at the impression because I got it spot on.

  I head for the warehouse door, my eyes widening as I realize that Luke has been standing there the whole time, watching us. I raise a brow as I get closer to him.

  “He’s been asking about us,” he says, his voice low. “Why would he ask about us?”

  My brows knit together as I turn to take a quick look at Dean who is now talking to Ty. “He seems okay.” I shrug.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t trust him. He gives me bad vibes.” Luke crosses his arms over his chest, still staring at him. “I don’t like him being here.”

  I shake my head, patting him on the shoulder. “You need to take a chill pill and relax.”

  He makes a noise in the back of his throat so I quickly remove my hand and pull the warehouse door open.

  He’s only voicing my own thoughts that Dean must have been asking about us, and yeah, it could be suspicious, but we don’t know the guy. Add in the fact that Kitty asked me to find him, then I trust he’s here for Kitty and not for any other reason.

  I take one last look at Luke before the door closes. I know Luke won’t let him out of his sight: he hates new people.

  “That’s it for today, ladies,” I announce, clapping my hands. “Remember to put your name down for next week’s class on the way out.”

  They all scatter, collecting their bags and water bottles, chatting among themselves as I start to clear away the small mats and equipment that I use to teach the self-defense classes that I run.

  I’ve been running them at the local community center for years now; helping women defend themselves against anyone they need to.

  When Kaylee first came to the compound, I recognized the signs of abuse right away—I’ve seen it enough over the years when I volunteered at the women’s shelter that my dad runs. It’s one of his many charity ventures along with his environmenta
l business.

  Being in that environment and seeing the physical abuse that the women had to put up with was what made me want to teach self-defense in the first place. At first it was at the shelter and then I started at the community center, and now, six years later, I teach two classes a week on Monday and Friday.

  “Evan?” I look up at Haley, one of my regulars. “I was wondering if it would be okay to bring my niece with me next time?”

  I roll up the mat and hook it under my arm before widening my stance. I wish we could afford the proper mats, but money is tight at the center, so I have to improvise with yoga mats. “How old is she?”

  “She’s sixteen… but… she’s not exactly in with the ‘cool kids,’ if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” I blow out a breath, reading between the lines and knowing exactly what she means.

  When I was in high school, if I wasn’t being picked on for being a nerd or a loser, then it was because I had two dads. I let them push me and push me right to the edge until one day, I hit back. I went for the biggest and baddest one, knowing that if I took him down, the others wouldn’t bother me anymore.

  It worked, they didn’t say a single word to me again, but by that stage, the damage had already been done and I was wary of every single one of them. It’s not like I had any friends to talk to, to hang around with—not like before high school.

  That’s how I built my profile up in the cyber and gaming world, becoming somebody through the screen of a computer. The anonymity that the screen gives you allowed me to build my confidence back up.

  “It should be fine, as long as you have her parents’ consent.”

  “Of course.” She smiles and then turns around, heading out of the door with the two other women she comes to this class with.

  I never ask their stories because to me it doesn’t matter as long as they want to learn how to defend themselves. That’s what I’m here for, to teach them how to defend themselves if they ever find themselves in a situation they feel uncomfortable in… or worse.

  Most of these women have already lived through domestic abuse or have even been attacked. But people tend to be reactive instead of proactive and I’m determined to help people be proactive, and Haley’s niece is as good a place as any to start.

  I continue to pack all of the stuff away, putting them back on the shelves in the equipment room that sits next to the main room of the community center.

  The center isn’t big, only housing three main rooms, one downstairs and two upstairs, all of which are in constant use from seven in the morning. In the summer months, they have fairs and fun days, trying to raise money to keep the place open and provide kids with somewhere stable to come to a couple of times a week after school and during school breaks.

  I close the door and walk back into the room I was using, grabbing my bag off the floor and switching the lights off as I exit and closing the door behind me.

  “Can I have a word?” Roy asks from behind me as I’m about to walk out of the main doors.

  I turn to face him, taking note of the bald patch in the middle of his head, surrounded by wisps of gray hair and his dull brown eyes. He must be nearly eighty by now, but the old man is still going strong and determined to keep this community center open for as long as he can.

  He’s a jack of all trades. He balances the books, hosts events, fixes anything that is broken, keeps the grounds in good condition, and also cleans. He’s here from the time the doors open until they close.

  “Sure.” I shrug, following him into his office that sits behind the reception desk.

  He walks around the various boxes that line his floor and to his old wooden desk that’s scattered with folders and paperwork.

  “I wanted to let you know that I’m cutting my hours down.”

  “’Bout damn time.” I chuckle.

  He laughs with me for a minute until he sobers. “You know we aren’t exactly flush for money…”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Well… I can’t afford a normal wage, not with the way things are right now so I put an ad in with a program.” He pauses, his eyes flitting over my face before finally landing back on mine. “I still pay them, but not what I would if they were employed normally. It’s like a ‘back to the workplace’ kind of thing.”

  I frown at him, not quite understanding why he’s telling me this. “I don’t get what you’re saying, Roy.” I lean against the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest.

  “I know what you do with MAC… I know you put the bad guys away.” I stay silent, waiting for what he has to say. “The person I’ve employed has just come out of prison. They’ll be helping me with closing at the end of the night, cleaning the place… that kind of thing.”

  “Hold on.” I lift my hand in the air, palm forward as I stand up straight, taking a step toward him. “You’re employing a criminal?” Silence. “You know some of the people who come here come for sanctuary, to get away from whatever shit is going on at home.”

  “I know,” he says, swiping his hand down his face. “But it’s the only thing I can afford. I just wanted to see if you can keep an eye on them?”

  “You should’ve said something to me, I would’ve helped out more.”

  “You have so much going on already.” He shrugs. “It’s a done deal.”

  I drop my shoulders, blowing out a breath and looking out of the window at the darkened sky. I know that he’s getting on in age; he can’t keep being here for fourteen hours a day, he needs the help, but I can’t help thinking that this could be bad if people knew, if people found out that the new employee is a criminal.

  It could ruin the reputation of the center; people would start to question if they’re safe here.

  “Who else have you told?” I finally ask, bringing my eyes back to him.

  “Just you.”

  “Good.” I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone else; we keep it between us.”

  He nods his head in reply before I walk out of the building to my car.

  I stare at the money in my hand that the cashier has given me, not quite believing that I have so much of it. The stack of bills looks like such a huge amount; I don’t think I’ve ever held this much money in my entire life. I really need to open a bank account.

  I close my fingers around it and turn before walking toward Livvy where she waits by the door.

  “Ready?” she asks.

  I nod, not being able to use my voice. Ever since Jake left us a couple of days ago, I’ve said no more than a few words to her. I don’t know what to say: how to thank her for putting me up when I have nowhere else to go.

  I can’t comprehend why someone would be this kind, to take a complete stranger into their home and not bat an eyelid: to not want to know what that person did to land themselves in prison in the first place.

  “Grandma. Pills,” I blurt out when we’re back onto the main street that runs through the middle of the town.

  “What’s that, lovely?”

  I shake my head at myself before trying to explain. “My grandma, she needed pills.” I take a deep breath and move my gaze to hers before looking away again. “I had to get them for her… that’s why I went to prison… I—”

  Her hand falling on my arm and pulling me to a stop has my breath catching in my throat. “You don’t need to tell me.” Her voice is soft but also firm as she smiles gently. “This is your start over; you know, the thing you hit on them computers to make it fresh again… I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s what you have here. A fresh start. This is your time, lovely. You can make a good life for yourself, and I want to help you achieve that.”

  I swallow, the dryness of my throat making it difficult. I don’t deserve this.

  “Thank you,” I manage to whisper.

  “You’re most welcome.” She lets go of my arm and looks down the road. “Now, let’s get you some decent threads, then we can have some dinner before you start your first shift.”

>   “Threads?” I chuckle at her and then sober as I feel the paper bills still clutched in my hand. “How much do I give you?” I ask, holding the wad of cash toward her.

  She pushes my hand down, looking left and right at the people milling about before whispering. “Let’s say forty dollars a week?”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, not knowing if that’s enough. Once she nods, I count out four hundred dollars and hand them to her. “Here… ten weeks in advance.” I smile.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “I do,” I say, spinning around and looking up and down at the row of shops. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  She puts the money into her purse while mumbling under her breath and puts her arm through mine, pulling me down the sidewalk and into the first clothes shop that we see.

  “Let’s see… you need new undergarments, new pants, jeans, tops, shorts, sneakers.” She goes on and on, making a full circle of the shop and waving her arms about. “Have at it.”

  I inch forward, looking at all the underwear and having no idea where to start. I’ve never bought my own clothes. Before I went to juvie, my grandma provided all of that and afterward… well, afterward they were provided by the prison service. The same style bra and panties along with various colors of prison uniform depending on which block I was in.

  I slowly pick up a pair of black panties. “Lace boy shorts,” I say, reading the label and then picking up the matching bra that sits above it.

  Once I’ve gathered up a few things, it gets easier and I manage to find most of what I’ll need—or at least, what I think I’ll need. Jeans, tank tops, long-sleeved tops, a cool faux leather jacket, and even a couple of pairs of flat ballet-style shoes.

  Once I’ve paid, we head to the next store, picking up a few more clothes and some black Converse.

  Two hours later, I’m armed with enough bags to clothe ten people, the smile on my face can’t be wiped off by nothing and nobody.

  “Wasn’t so bad, huh?” Livvy asks as she walks beside me back to her place.