ReBoot (MAC Security Series Book 4)

by Abigail Davies

There’s a beat of silence before Ty says, “She’s it.” His eyes rove over Kay. “I get it.”

  I open my mouth, trying and failing to form words as the rage slowly fizzles out. My body is exhausted, my brain tired, and I feel like I’ve been put through ten rounds with Tyson.

  My shoulders droop as my gaze wanders around the warehouse, finally seeing what they’re doing.

  “We’re trying to help,” Kitty says, walking around the table and placing her hand on my arm. “Like you said… you’re always there for us. It’s time we did the same.”

  I swallow when my eyes meet the board on the wall, seeing information and photos pinned to it.

  “While you’ve been holed up in your cabin we’ve been trying to figure out what happened,” Luke says, walking toward the board before lowering his voice so only I can hear. “And when we’ve got your girl out, we’re definitely talking about the fucking hole in your floor that you appeared out of.”

  I snap my head up, making sure no one else heard him as Kay clears her throat. “We know she didn’t do it, Evan.” I see the truth she’s telling reflected in her eyes.

  I shake my head, agreeing with her but also pissed at myself. I should have known they’d back me all the way.

  Why did I think that they wouldn’t?

  I’ve been in gen pop for five days now. They kept me separated for a few days while they ran tests, and I was right, I was eight weeks along… well, nine weeks now.

  The scariest thing was walking down the hallway to the main area, knowing that I’d be seeing the same faces that I saw every day for years.

  Not one of them has said a word to me, but the looks are enough to know what they’re thinking. I’ve been keeping to myself, letting my head drop when one of them walks on by, especially Taz, Dee Dee, and Sheila.

  I’m biding my time; tomorrow Cal is coming in to talk me through the process of the meeting with the board and give me updates on the case as a whole. I can’t wait to see him: to ask him how Evan is, because that’s all that matters—that he believes that I didn’t do it.

  I pick my tray up, getting in line for the food that is being served—at least, they call it food—I’d call it slop. Lifting my head, I make very brief eye contact with the woman behind the counter as I hand over my tray and then take it from her once she’s served me my food.

  Her eyes widening at something behind me has me immediately on high alert, but I don’t turn around.

  “Deacon.” I shiver at the voice, because it’s not Dee Dee, the woman who is made to look like she’s the top dog: it’s Taz.

  I turn around slowly, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat as I keep my head down, not wanting to offend her in any way.

  “I see you’re back.”

  “I am,” I whisper, my voice quiet but somehow seeming louder because the room has gone silent as they all watch with rapt attention.

  I see her boots move out of the corner of my eye as her stance widens. She whispers something to either Sheila or Dee Dee that I don’t quite catch before people are moving and then I’m being yanked forward by my hair.

  My head snaps up, gasping at the scar that runs down her face and over her eye. “You know what happens to snitches?”

  “I-I-I.” I can’t get the words out that are lodged in the back of my throat. She’s assuming because I got out of this place that I must have snitched on her: telling everyone what she used to do to me.

  She lets go of my hair, pushing me and causing my back to slam into the railings that surround the counter. The breath leaves me in a rush, catching in my throat as pain explodes throughout my back.

  “Bitch can’t even talk! Look at you… you’re pathetic.”

  I whimper, keeping my mouth shut but feeling the rage bubbling inside me. I can’t do what I used to do: take it without protecting myself. I have a baby to protect now and there’s no way that I’ll be going down without a fight.

  My gaze scans the room, not spotting a single officer but every pair of eyes turned this way, watching us with some kind of feral anticipation.

  “You think what Dee Dee did was bad? You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the room silent save for the beating of my heart.

  There’s a beat before she lunges for me, grabbing the side of my neck and twisting me, hitting my face off the same metal railing that my back hit. Pain explodes throughout my face, wetness traveling from above my eye and nose and down my cheek.

  She adjusts her grip on my neck, doing it again and again, my cries of pain echoing off the beige walls of the cafeteria.

  My hand flutters toward my stomach, but I stop at the last minute. The last thing they need to know is that I’m pregnant: it’s the first thing that they’ll aim for. Instead, when her grip lets up, I whip my head up, feeling dizzy but knowing that I don’t have time to right myself.

  I throw my arm out, my fist catching her in the face before being surrounded by “oohhs” and “aahhs.”

  “Bitch is gonna get it now,” she warns, swiping the blood from her lip and signaling Sheila and Dee Dee.

  They step forward, holding my arms and hauling me down to the floor as I fight the best I can to no avail. They press my face into the cold surface and I know that there isn’t a thing I can do but curl into a ball and protect my stomach. I don’t care how much I get hurt, all that matters is the baby.

  The kicks and punches that they rain down on me blend into one: my arms, legs, back, head, face; nothing's off limits. My body starts to shut down, much like my mind and my screams of pain soon turn into moans and groans.

  It’s not until Dee Dee bends down beside me, yanking my arm from around my stomach that I lift my head, blood pooling around my face as I watch like I’m out of my own body. She holds it out beside me, stretching it before someone’s boot slams down on my arm, making me scream in pain as the bone cracks before everything turns black.

  “How is she?” I ask, my voice small as I sit at the table in the kitchen at Dad and Pop’s. I hate being at the compound at the moment, and when I am there, I spend all of my time in my safe room, trying to find something… anything to help.

  One week. That’s how long it’s been since I saw her face, since I spoke to her, since I held her. I can’t cope with not being able to see her, not knowing how she is.

  “I don’t know, I have a visit with her tomorrow,” Pop answers, placing his knife and fork down. My eyes meet his, seeing the worry and concern shining bright.

  I nod my head, hating that I don’t know what’s going on. We’ve got every single bit of information that we can, and yet, we can’t work out what happened or how long it will be before she’s back in front of the parole board. Charlie came to help us yesterday: even that says what he thinks of her arrest.

  “I need to see her,” I say, my voice small as the lump builds again. “I need to know she’s doing okay—”

  The sound of Pop’s cell going off has Dad saying, “No phones at the table.”

  “I know…” His words trail off as he looks down at the number, dropping his knife and fork and picking it up.

  “Callum Lockwood...” He nods his head before saying. “I am, yes… has something happ—” Pop’s eyes skirt to mine, widening before he says, “I’ll be there within—uh huh… yes… I understand… thanks for letting me know… yeah… bye.”

  The table is silent as Pop radiates anger and worry, it almost becoming too much to bear as he looks over at me and says, “I need you to stay calm, son.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, because telling someone to stay calm will make them calm.” Rolling my eyes, I lean back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for what he has to say.

  “It’s Lexi.”

  “Lexi?” I sit up straighter, giving him every ounce of my attention. “What’s happened?”

  “There’s been an… incident.”

  I stand up, my rage boiling over like a pan on the stove. “What the fuck has happened?”


  They both stand up too, but Pop heads to his office and reappears a couple of seconds later pushing his arms through his jacket.

  “Pop… I love you, but you need to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  He huffs, standing still and looking between me and Dad. “You better come with me, she’s been transferred to the hospital.”

  My heartbeat thumps in my chest and I shout, “I’m driving,” before I run out of the house and to my car, waiting for them as they follow me and start the ignition.

  Pop spends the next hour on his cell in the back seat, talking with various people as I make a two-hour journey into one and double park outside of the hospital, running in and heading to the front desk.

  “Alexis Deacon,” I shout, slapping my palm down on the desk. The woman stares at me with wide eyes, placing her hand on her hip and tilting her head to the side.

  “Son,” Dad says, using his calm voice.

  Pop sidles up next to us. “I’m Alexis Deacon’s lawyer, she was just brought in.”

  She stares at each of us for a beat before she starts pressing the keys on the keyboard, entirely to slow for my liking. My hands open and close into fists as my heart stays wedged in my throat.

  “Floor three, waiting room b… someone will come and see you.”

  We all spin around, heading to the waiting room like we’re running from a fire. We all come to a stop when we get in there because a man is talking to a doctor.

  “Thank you so much,” he says, shaking his hand. “My niece is in the best place possible.”

  “She is, Mr. Deacon. We’ll keep you informed of Alexis’ recovery.”

  My blood boils as my muscles lock, my eyes widening when I realize who this is.

  How the hell did he find out what happened to Lexi? Is he her emergency contact? If he was then why did they call Pop? It doesn’t make sense, but then Lexi’s voice comes into my mind, her telling me what her uncle did to her all those years ago.

  It’s him. He did this to her again. How did I not put it together? All this time I was looking at someone else—Darrell, Geena—but the smirk on his face as the doctor turns around and walks out of the door has my rage slamming through me with an unstoppable force as I lunge for the fucker.

  “You fuckface!” I shout, lunging forward but being stopped by Pop’s quick reflexes. I point at him, watching his smug face as he straightens his jacket, not giving a shit what he’s caused or the lives he’s ruined. “You put her in there back then, and you did it again. You’re a piece of shit! What did she ever do to you?”

  “I have no idea who you are or who you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah?” I laugh but it’s unhinged. “I’m Lexi’s boyfriend.”

  Pop’s grip loosens on me as the man’s face pales slightly but he tries not to let it show as he makes a noise in the back of his throat.

  “You may have gotten away with what you did the first time, but she has us now… a family that cares and will fight for her.”

  He rolls his eyes, skirting around us before he says, “I’d like to see you try.”

  I lunge for him again but this time both Pop and Dad hold me back as he walks out, his back straight and his cell held against his ear.

  Once he’s out of sight, they let me go and Pop says, “You have some explaining to do, but first I need to find out what’s going on and then we’ll be talking.”

  My nostrils flare as my eyes stay on the same spot where that fucker walked out before I turn to face Dad as he pulls me over to the seats.

  I’ve never been an impatient kind of person. I can wait for hours on end, not caring and it not bothering me in the slightest. I became accustomed to having to wait from a young age: the days that I would be locked in that room, nothing to do to pass the time but my own thoughts.

  But this is different, I don’t have any patience, I need to know that Lexi is okay—more importantly, I need to see her.

  My leg bobs up and down uncontrollably as we wait for Pop who has been gone for what feels like hours now. Dad has been busy on his cell, calling people and letting them know what has happened. The people who have become Lexi’s family.

  My eyes stay in the same position, not moving from the spot on the wall that I’ve been staring at for the last hour. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to be comforted because it’s not me that needs it.

  It’s the woman who I love more than life itself that needs that. So when Livvy arrives with Seb and West, Luke not far behind them, I don’t say a word.

  “The rest of the guys wanted to come, but I was in the area anyway,” Luke says.

  I slowly turn my head, my eyes not wanting to move from the spot that they’ve become consumed with. “What?” I ask.

  “I said.” He shuffles on his chair next to me. “I was visiting my mom, so I was in the area. I told the guys to stay put.” He leans closer. “I know you don’t want to be surrounded by people, that you need your space.”

  I nod, glad that he understands before he leans back, talking to Dad and Livvy.

  “I knew something was going to happen to her in that place,” Livvy sniffles. “I can’t bear the thought of—”

  “Fuck’s sake,” I grind out, whipping my head toward her and narrowing my eyes. “This is your fault.”

  Her hand flies to her chest, her face paling. “What—how—I.”

  “You.” I point at her. “Didn’t have to let the police inside your house.” I stand up. “You could have said no and she wouldn’t be in here right now.” My teeth are clenched, my jaw ticking.

  “I didn’t know that I could say no,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears.

  “You better back down, Evan, I’m warning you,” West grits out, his eyes full of fire but I don’t give a shit.

  “How can you not know that they needed a warrant?” I throw my hands up in the air.

  West stands up and then Seb follows, moving forward and effectively cutting my eye contact with Livvy.

  “You want to blame someone? Then blame me.” Seb slams his hand down on his chest. “Gran tried to call me beforehand and I ignored it because we were on a job.”

  My chest heaves as I step toward him, going nose to nose and feeling like I need to get all of my anger out. This is the best way possible. I know on some level that it isn’t really Livvy’s fault, but I’m not thinking rationally at the moment.

  “Come on,” Luke says, standing up and pulling me back. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “No!” I shake his grip off me, spinning around. “I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s—”

  My words are cut off as Pop walks into the room, his face pale and his eyes bloodshot.

  We all seem to move toward him as one, needing to know what he knows.

  “Cal?” Dad says after several minutes of silence.

  Pop looks up at him. “She’s in a bad way,” he says, his voice a mere croak.

  My mind conjures up images of what he means by bad way and I start to panic. This can’t be it, this can’t be happening. I can’t lose her for good.

  “Her face is a mess,” he says, shaking his head. “Her arm is broken, she has head injuries and bruises cover most of her body.”

  We all stay quiet as we take in all of the information and then Dad explodes. “Where the hell were the guards? How can they let something like this happen?” He spins around, facing us all. “We’re not letting this go. Luke, go back and get your team on it, West and Seb.” He raises a brow. “Do whatever it is that you do.” He then turns to Livvy. “And, Liv, we need to start some kind of…” He turns to Pop. “Motion? Is that what it’s called?”

  “Yeah,” Pop answers, a small smile on his face.

  “Good.” He nods and turns back to face Livvy. “We need to make some kind of motion about them entering your house. We’ll get her out of there, we all will.”

  Dad finally turns to face me, his eyes connecting with mine as he steps forward. “Go home, son. There’s nothing el
se you can do here.”

  “To hell with that!” I shout, backing away from them all. “I need to see her.”

  “They won’t let you,” Pop tells me. “Only her lawyer and emergency contact can. Which means me... and her uncle.”

  “She has an uncle?” Livvy asks, her voice almost a gasp.

  “Yeah,” I grind out. “An evil one at that.”

  “The one that was here earlier?” Dad asks.

  I lock my jaw, the muscle ticking. “Yeah… he’s the one that put her away in the first place.”

  “I don’t understand,” Livvy says.

  I look over at her, my eyes connecting with hers as I try to portray that I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have blown up like that. It was uncalled for, but my head’s a mess and I can barely think straight right now.

  I step toward her, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it gently. “He was the D. A. that put her away. Instead of helping her, he tried her as an adult.”

  She gasps and I turn to face Pop, having a silent conversation with him. His eyes burn with fire and I know that he won’t let that happen this time, he’ll do anything in his power to help her.

  I let my head drop, feeling my body slump. I want to be here, I want to see her, but I need to be helping everyone get her out of there for good.

  Mind made up, I push my shoulders back, walking forward and saying, “You make sure you call me every hour to let me know how she’s doing.”

  “I will, son,” Pop answers, placing his hand on my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “I won’t be going anywhere.”

  I watch him for a beat, seeing the truth in his eyes before I tilt my head in acknowledgment and walk out of there, determined to get her out of that death trap as quickly as I can.

  The first thing I notice is that my throat is dry. And when I say dry, I mean Sahara Desert, feels like I’m swallowing glass, kind of dry. I keep my eyes closed, taking stock of everything as I move my fingers on my one hand. Relief flows through me at the movement, but when I try the other hand, pain shoots through my arm and I groan.