Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3) (17 page)

“How long will you be up?” she asked.

“A while. I have some work that I need to do.”

“Quarter work, or work-work?”

“Work.” He bent and kissed her, lingering a moment longer, tasting the mint toothpaste and ChapStick.

He was pretty sure she was out by the time he flipped the lights off.

The trip home had been uneventful. After the near disaster that was the booth time, he’d been prepared for the worst. But somehow, he and the others had managed to successfully keep her unaware of the activity around the booth. Unless it’d happened in the six foot sphere of her space, she’d been clueless. Which was perfect. She’d only noticed one heckler out of the dozen or so that’d passed them during her signing time.

Zain made another pass through the apartment, turning off most lights, leaving a few on. He felt confident they were safe for the time being, but that was still no reason to lower his guard.

Once he was satisfied, he grabbed his laptop and booted it up at the dining room table. If he were to guess, the space was more of a tabletop gaming and costuming shop than an eating area, judging by the things hung on the walls and stashed in the corners of the room.

His kind of people.

Too bad they didn’t exist in Illinois. He’d been living on an island of solitude, but that was the way of it. Even if they were around, he didn’t have time for other people. His life was Aegis, keeping things running smoothly, identifying issues before they ever were problems.

From where he sat, he had an excellent view down the hall...and straight to where Andrea was sleeping. He couldn’t see her, but he didn’t need to. He’d already memorized her face, the freckles, that one mole at her temple.

If pressed, he could count the number of hours since meeting her. Before then, she’d been a face and a name on a screen. He’d known facts about her, but not the real her. Now, he knew her. He liked her. And when this was over, he’d have to leave her.

Because he protected people. Because that was who he was. And Aegis let him do that in a way that made a difference in people’s lives. Besides, who was to say when the danger was gone, Andrea would want anything to do with him?

His face alone had nearly scared her off the first time.

No, he’d enjoy what they had while he could and when it was over, he’d go home without regret and no backward glances. Andrea would find someone else. Someone whole, who could give her what he couldn’t. Not that she’d ever asked him for anything—he’d just thrown himself at her.

His email chimed as messages loaded, pulling him out of the funk.

It was time to work.

Two emails from Admiral Crawford had bright red flags attached to them. War flags, he liked to call them. Normal people marked their email with high important markers, but not the admiral. With him, it was always war and combat.

Zain moved the admiral’s emails around, but didn’t open them. He was still on vacation for a while longer, and while he suspected his boss was aware of his activities, this was still his time to use as he saw fit. Of course, he was using company resources, so his argument didn’t hold a drop of water. All facts of reality he’d have to face later.

He clicked into the information Gavin had pulled together, focusing on Cliff.

Andrea said it couldn’t be her boss, that he had a vested interest in their success, and while he’d heard her—he couldn’t ignore what he saw. Donations to 4chan, notorious as the breeding ground for movements like GamerGate. Questionable statements. Strange holdings. Separately, it all meant nothing. But together...it painted a picture of a man grasping onto the heyday of the white, male gamer superiority.

Why would Cliff support Andrea to her face, set her up to suck up so much of the company money, when it appeared as though she was the very thing he hated?

It didn’t make a lot of sense.

He went through everything twice, familiarizing himself with everything Cliff, the history of Dark Matter, and Drudge.

The facts were there.

And yet...something didn’t feel right.

Hours later, he had more questions than answers. He shut down the laptop and considered the sofa. It looked comfortable and clean. But there was a bed with a warm, soft woman in it. Though he was only digging himself a deeper grave, Zain padded into the bedroom and slipped in beside Andrea, content to stare at her sleeping face, obscured by shadow.

Protecting her was no hardship. Letting go, now that would be a feat of wills.

Kevin shoved the window up, holding his breath. At this hour, there was hardly anyone awake in the apartment complex. Still, he ran the very real risk of getting caught. And that wasn’t in the plans yet. He had a job to do first.

Silence reigned supreme.

He slid through the open space and into the apartment. His knee hit something and a heavy thud hit the floor. He cursed under his breath and slithered to the ground, crouching inside.

No sound.

No alarms.

No footsteps coming to investigate.

Kevin stood and eased the window back down into place and closed the blinds. He went around the whole apartment, ensuring blinds and blackout curtains were pulled before flipping on a single light.

Breaking and entering weren’t his specialty, but it was part of the job. He’d had to learn how to pick locks, the weaknesses of doors, back when he was younger.

Funny enough, it was a B&E that sent him to juvie in the first place where he’d met Speckles. It was a bit full circle to be back here, looking for some missing piece of the puzzle now this way.

After a quick search of the first floor yielded nothing, he crept up the stairs to the second level.

Tucked away in a corner was a gamers’ paradise. A big screen TV, a wall of monitors and three towers.

Bingo.

This was where he’d fine it.

It had to be here somewhere. And once he found what Speckles wanted, he could have a little fun. What was the point of breaking and entering if he couldn’t leave his mark?

“You really think my place is dangerous?” Andrea handed Zain her keys.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry.” He shifted the rental car into park then took her keys.

“The blue key. You don’t seriously think I’m in danger here, do you? That stuff was at the con. Hundreds of miles away.” She was clinging to the hope that the attack, the fliers, were some random asshole who hated the game, that it wasn’t a personal attack. And she was ready to change into clean clothes. Her clothes. Stuff that fit. “You’re being paranoid.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

Andrea cradled her latte and sat back, content to watch Zain’s backside as he walked to her front door. The apartment was a point of pride for her. The first true mark that she’d succeeded as an adult. It was small, but it was hers, and she’d managed well enough on her own. Unlike Crystal, Andrea hadn’t come from money. She’d had to scrape things together for school. Somehow, it’d all worked out. At least until now.

She glanced at the clock and sipped her drink.

Five minutes should be plenty of time for him to poke around her place unsupervised.

Thank goodness, she’d actually cleaned before leaving, or else she didn’t know what he’d find.

Her phone buzzed.

Zain’s name flashed on the screen.

Crap. Had the water heater sprung a leak again?

She answered the call, one eye screwed up.

“What’s the damage?” she asked.

“Lock the doors and call the police.” His tone was...cold.

She swallowed.

“What?” she sat up, staring at her open front door.

“Lock the doors. Call 911.”

“Zain—what’s wrong?”

No, not again. Not here...

“Someone has been here,” he said.

“What do you mean?” She reached across to the driver’s door and pressed the lock button.

“Someone trashed your place.”

His tone was hard, different. He’d sounded like this when she was attacked, when she was in danger.

“Andrea?”

“Calling 9-1-1 now.” She swallowed hard. What about Crystal? Was she okay? Or was this the sort of normal break-in? She’d never once in her life thought she’d pray that someone had just broken in and stole stuff, but she was now.

Andrea made the 9-1-1 phone call in a blur, her gaze locked on the front doors. The poor operator had to ask her the same questions two and three times apiece for her to stammer out a response.

What if Zain was in there with whatever person had broken in? And what did he mean by the word “trashed”? Did he mean destroyed, or had she left her place a bit of a mess? He could be confusing her lack of decorating style with robbery.

“I’m going in,” she blurted to the operator.

She scrambled out of the car, up the walk and through the front door in a daze. It was a blur.

And then she saw it.

What trashed really meant.

“Demolished” was more like it.

Her sofa was shredded, the stuffing pulled out. Everything on the walls had been literally ripped off, in some places even chunks had been taken out of the drywall. The flat screen TV was on the floor, the screen cracked. Everything was overturned.

It was her hotel room all over again.

Only worse.

Because she lived here.

This was her safe place.

Her home.

She dropped her hand to her side and stared.

This...this wasn’t right. And it was all over a game? What was wrong with people?

What if they were still here?

“Zain?” she called out. He could be hurt or in trouble. “Zain?”

“Andrea?” Footsteps thudded on the stairs.

She crossed the living room, wading through years of stuff. Relief flooded her as he descended into view.

“I told you to wait in the car,” he said. He clearly wasn’t happy she was there and—was that a gun in his hand?

“I—Just—I mean...”

“9-1-1?” He shoved the gun into his waistband, then reached for her cell.

He had a gun.

How long had Zain been carrying that?

And when was the last time she’d seen a real, live gun? Because she seriously doubted that was a toy or a prop of some sort.

She turned in a circle. Broken picture frames, cracked plates—it was all destroyed. Years of her life, keepsakes, sentimental pieces. As good as gone. She sat down on the bottom stair, vaguely aware of flashing lights and the cops’ arrival.

This was over a game. Something they’d created for fun. And now she was a target. Why? What was so important about D7 that it meant ripping her life apart? Games were her world, and even she couldn’t understand this. She’d thought she’d seen the worst the gaming world had to offer, but now she had a front row seat to just how bad it could be.

“I didn’t know which one it was, so I took them all.” Kevin unzipped the small, rolling suitcase on the table and unzipped it, ensuring the drives hadn’t broken in transport.

“Them? How many were there?” Speckles sighed into the phone.

“You said to get her external. She had at least a dozen of them.”

“Fuck.”

“Do I want to know what you’re looking for?”

“Better if you don’t.”

“When do you want to meet?” Kevin zipped the suitcase and let them be.

“It’s probably best if we don’t. Put it in the locker and I’ll do a pick up in the morning”

One more task complete, another phase of their plan done. With Andrea suitably shaken, it was time to turn his attention on the other one. Crystal. The loud-mouthed one.

Too bad she hadn’t been at the conference. She was much easier to rile up when goaded, as proven by how quickly things escalated on-line in the comments section. Had she been present, there’d been much more of a spectacle at the booth and party. He hadn’t been able to scrounge up pictures of her, but knowing how Crystal reacted when Andrea was picked on—her reactions would have been gold.

“Kevin?”

“Hm?”

“We’re going to set up for the Trojan phase.”

“I thought we weren’t doing that.” He stared straight ahead.

“I know, but things have changed. It’s necessary now.”

“I see.” Kevin owed Speckles. He owed him his life. This was only fair. “I’ll handle it.”

He ended the call, staring straight ahead.

Years ago, he’d made this promise, a promise he now had to make good on. He didn’t regret it, but damn if this wasn’t going to suck. Still, he’d do anything for Speckles.

Anything.

Zain chucked the bag of ruined stuff out onto the stoop. The pile of things on top of the ruined sofa was easily as tall as he was. Between himself, Andrea, Crystal, and a few friends, they’d managed to excavate the worst of it. There wasn’t much left to be salvaged.

He hurt for Andrea.

In all his time, he’d seen maybe one revenge job that equaled this level of hateful destruction to property. What was more, the break-in only confirmed his fear.

Whoever was behind this was connected to Grunge and Dark Matter Games.

It was someone she knew.

It had to be.

The only people who’d known they were leaving had been at the booth that morning. It was a short list of people. Maybe seven names, outside of the girls.

What he wouldn’t give to be able to fly back and question every one of those people himself—but he couldn’t leave Andrea. Letting her out of his sight was not happening.

The cops were skeptical the two incidents were connected.

Andrea’s games and computer were missing.

It was enough surface evidence for the patrol officers to decide it was a simple B&E. But Zain wasn’t buying it. And neither were Andrea or Crystal. They’d already called a detective by the name of Bowman who’d been working on their harassment case, but the man wasn’t on-shift today. Zain had a to-do for later to look the guy up, see if he couldn’t push some evidence his way. A little support from the cops could help a lot.

All day Zain had listened to the back and forth between the girls, the names, how they spoke of certain people on his short list of suspects.

They were still focused on the game.

He wasn’t so sure D7 was the reason behind what was going on. Maybe it’d provided an opportunity, but this smelled of something bigger. Something more than just hating a game and the girls, though it was painted in that light.