Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance (3 page)

“Damn, you are
seething
right now…”

The soft chuckle beside me belongs to Fox Fitzpatrick, possibly the only friend I’ve made since I was shipped out to this damn desert. “No, I’m not,” I say, steadying the tone of my voice.

Fox looks ahead at the sergeant to make sure he’s not watching and quickly raises his goggles up to scratch his nose. He squints his brown eyes to block the harsh sunlight above our heads. As he targets the stubborn itch, he accidentally wipes a bit of dirt on his clean-shaven, underwear model-like cheeks. At least the gritty look is in around these parts. “Okay, then,” he grins, sliding his goggles back into place over his eyes.

“You’d think he’d let me take point,” I say. “I’m the one that noticed the damn signal that led us to the weapons cache.”

“Eh, you don’t know who could be in there,” Fox replies, resting his rifle on his shoulder. “Better to let them go in first to check it out.”

“Yeah, it’s a great strategy. Stick their best close-quarters combat soldier in the back with the sniper. That’s
definitely
how you win wars.”

He laughs again. “
Seething
—”

“Shut up.”

The five of us close in on the warehouse and Rhys signals us to stop. Fox readies his rifle in both hands while I keep my grip on mine.

“Fawn, Fitzpatrick—” Rhys says. “You two check the perimeter. Neutralize anyone that comes out — except us.”

“Yes, sir,” Fox and I reply in unison.

The three of them slowly push into the building with their heads down and guns up. A sting of jealously strikes me but I shake it off quickly. Maybe Fox is right. I have a better chance at going home again if I play it safe but I didn’t exactly enlist in the United States Army to work on my tan.

Fox and I walk side-by-side around the warehouse. I switch to my side arm while he scans the distance around us for any sign of movement. I peek around every corner we pass, each one revealing nothing at all. An odd sense rolls down my neck.

“This isn’t right…” I mutter. “Intel said there were at least a dozen men here.”

“Maybe they’re all inside?”

“They’d have regular perimeter patrols,” I point out. “There’s supposed to be an entire armory in there. This doesn’t make any sense.” I look up as we reach the rear of the warehouse, noticing the crushed roof along the back wall. “This place has already been hit…”

Fox scans the damage himself, slowly nodding his head. “Think we’re too late?”

“Shh—” My ears perk at the sudden, rhythmic sound. “Do you hear that?”

He lowers his gun and tilts his head, raising his ear higher into the air. “Is that music?”

I step closer and pull my helmet off so I can lay my ear against the hard, stone wall. “
American
music…”

“These guys certainly have a thing for pop culture.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Calling the kettle black, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.”

I exhale a soft laugh but quickly stop. Now isn’t the time to tease Fox about his movie star crush. I push my helmet back on and stand up to keep moving around the warehouse.

“Hello?”

We pause and turn back to the singing wall. The music’s volume dims and the voice calls out again. “Hello?!”

Fox knocks on the stone. “Hello!” he greets.

“Oh, thank
fuck
.” The man’s voice cries and he laughs loudly. “English-speaking people!”

I stare at Fox with confusion and he holds back a laugh. “Are you all right, sir?” I ask.

“I’m doing much better right now.”

This must be the American journalist being held captive inside the warehouse. “We’re here to get you out, sir. Sit tight,” I tell him.

“Oh, believe me, honey — I’m not going anywhere.”

I flex my jaw and Fox’s lips curl once again.

“Is there anyone inside with you?” Fox asks the wall. “Any guards or other prisoners?”

“Nope. It’s just me.”

I holster my side arm and we move around the building to find another way inside, looking for a place to start digging away rocks that won’t cause the rest of the building to collapse on the guy. Although, after hearing him call me
honey
, I don’t think it’d be the worst loss the world has ever known.

We start rolling debris out of the way, constantly glancing over our shoulders in case someone is looking to sneak up on us but no one shows up. Whatever this place was used for, it was abandoned a long time ago.

Something definitely isn’t right.

Finally, a hole forms and light shines through to the other side. The man’s laughter echoes through it as he crawls out with a small messenger bag on his back and he collapses against the sand at our feet.

I slide my goggles off to get a better look at him. He’s just a damn kid, no older than myself or Fox. His hair is dirty, along with his skin and clothes and there’s a smear of dried blood wiped along his forehead beneath a pair of filth-covered glasses.

He rolls over onto his back and smiles up at the two of us with dry, cracked lips. “You wouldn’t happen to have some water, would you?”

I share a look with Fox before he reaches for his canteen and kneels down to hand it to him.

“So, uh…” Fox begins, “want to tell us what’s going on?”

The man sits up and chugs the entire canteen dry, spilling more of it onto his chin than down his throat. “I got trapped,” he finally chokes out.

“Right…” I mutter. “We received word of an American journalist being held captive in a weapons cache—”

The man shakes his head. “Never happened.”

Fox stands up. “Never happened?”

“Sorry. I lied.”

I stare at Fox again and we both blink with confusion. “You what?”

He reaches out his hand and Fox takes it to help him up. “Yeah, sorry… I hid out in here during the last raid and the ceiling kind of caved in on me…”

“Uh huh…” I take in the features of his face. Full, boyish cheeks. Dimpled chin. Green eyes. He stands about an inch taller than myself. I glance down at his sneakers and jeans and all the way back up to the thin, white dress shirt that’s now completely soaked through with sweat and dirt. “The last raid in this area was three days ago.”

“Is that all? Feels longer…”

Fox shifts in his boots and holds up a hand. “Okay, wait— what do you mean you lied?”

The man pats his duffel bag. “I hacked your equipment.”

My jaw drops. “You did
what
?”

“I sent the intel,” he admits. “Made up a story about a bunch of evil terrorists guarding some crap, I don’t know. Dehydration has me kind of
loopy
—”

“You realize that’s a
felony
, right?” I ask.

He chuckles, flashing his perfect, white teeth at me. “Believe me, honey, there are far easier ways of getting me in handcuffs.”

Fox lays a hand on my shoulder and gently eases me away to keep me from punching this bastard in the jaw.

“Sir, that’s enough of that,
please
…” he says to him, although Fox can’t keep the smile from spreading on his face. “So, the roof caved in, trapped you inside, and you
hacked
our equipment with a distress signal to come and get you out?”

The man nods along with him. “Right.”

“How?”

His hand slips into his bag and pulls out one corner of his laptop. “I wrote a program that transmits a frequency wave that hijacks any vulnerable government equipment within about ten miles. Kid stuff, really… The only downside is that I had no way of differentiating between American equipment and the
not-so
American equipment. So,
they
could just as easily be headed here right now to shoot me but it was either take the gamble or die of starvation and/or exposure and that sounds really unpleasant, so…” He shrugs.

I narrow my eyes at him, inhaling slowly to keep the annoyed rage at bay. “Who the hell are you?”

He adjust the strap on his bag, tightening it over his shoulder, and grins at me.

“I’m Boxcar.”

Chapter 4

Boxcar

Los Angeles

Present Day

Los Angeles.

What a fucking dump.

I promised myself I’d never travel this far west again unless out of absolute necessity but I guess having two assassins on my trail qualifies.

Elijah and Lilah Hart. I spent my flight over here digging for skeletons and reading up on them. Apparently, they aren’t the only members of the Hart family in Snake Eyes; the other being their big brother, Dante, and I
definitely
hope he’s not traveling around with them right now. If I have any luck left in the world — and that is one big
if
— he’s hiding out in their childhood home on Geneva Lake.

That’s right,
assholes
, not quite as hidden as you thought.

Let’s just say I did the right thing running away with my damn tail between my legs. This family isn’t one I want to fuck with and I get the feeling my research only scratches the surface of that iceberg. There’s only one person I know that can confirm my suspicion and he’s living happily ever after in the Hollywood Hills with his movie star girlfriend-
slash
-stepsister.

Sorry, bro.

I dial his number from a coffee shop down the street from their new house, taking advantage of the shop’s free wi-fi signal to bounce the call through various towers and encrypt my location. Sure, the Hart twins found me in Boston but I won’t make it so easy for them to track down my location in Los Angeles.

“Hello?”

“Fox! Old buddy, old pal! How are you?” I speak a little too loudly, drawing the attentions of the damn hipsters and wannabe novelists sitting around me so I lower my voice. Adrenaline tends to mess with my ability to maintain calmness and my pulse is thumping like a damn drumline right now.

“Boxcar?”

“Yeah, man. Hey — listen. I’m in Los Angeles. Come have a drink with me.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Fox finally sighs. “What did you do?”

I snort in defense. “What did I do? What do you mean
what did I do
?”

“Fox, who is it?”

“Go back to sleep, Dani,” he whispers. I hear the ruffling of bedsheets as he stands up.

“You still asleep, man?” I ask. “It’s
noon
.”

“No, it’s five in the morning, actually,” he whispers.

“What?”
I glance at my laptop’s clock, trying to count the difference in hours but I give up quickly. “Where are you?”

A door slides closed and he answers at normal volume. “Tokyo.”

“Tokyo?!”
I spit, once again drawing side-eyes from people around my table. “Why the hell are you in Japan?”

Fox yawns. “Dani’s on her press tour for
Night Trials.
”

“Oh yeah… that movie you had a perfectly good screener for but refused to send me,” I bite.

“You’ll see it with the rest of the world next month, Box.”

“Dick.”

“Why are you in Los Angeles?”

I chew on my inner cheek. I really hoped to talk to him in person about this. There’s not much he can do from the other side of the Pacific Ocean and there’s no way he’ll make it here before the Hart twins do. Still, I can’t
not
tell him there are former Snake Eyes agents out there looking for him.

“You have a problem, Fox.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Last night…” I lower my voice, taking full control of its volume. “Some Snake—
reptilian folks
showed up at my place in Boston looking for you.”

“Are you sure?” he asks quickly.

“Positive. My guess is they figured out who was behind the exposure and they aren’t too happy about it.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“Yeah — Elijah and Lilah Hart.” I wait for a reaction but silence screams back at me. “Fox?”

“I’ll be on the next flight home.”

“No,”
I say. “That’s a horrible idea. As of right now, they don’t know where you are.”

“But they know where
you
are,” he says. “You don’t want to get cornered by the Harts, Boxcar…
especially Lilah.”

I laugh, forcing any manliness I have to the surface. “I think I can handle—”

“No, Box,” he interrupts. “You
really
can’t.”

I deflate. “I know, man. I’m kinda in over my head here.”

“Lay low,” he tells me. “Just go into hiding for a while until I can come home and deal with it myself.”

It’s always been my first instinct. Run away. It’s not like I don’t have the means to do it right now. I have plenty of untraceable money to throw at an escape plan. There’s nothing stopping me, except…

“I can’t, Fox.”

“Why not?”

“Because they know about Caleb.”

Fox pauses and exhales a breath. “Then you know what you have to do.”

I wince. “I know, but…” Our brief history rushes to the front of my mind. “I don’t wanna.”