Thirty-One
Connor
There was nothing I wanted more than to go straight to Thea after I left Coleman’s place. But first I have to know what the mysterious hackers have on him. Once I get all the concrete evidence, I’ll take every damning piece of it to her.
Damien didn’t even register as I blew through the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time to my room. Slamming down in the chair at my desk, I hook up the encrypted drive and my phone to input what I found at Coleman’s house. I pull out the locket and set it next to the computer as I work.
It occurs to me when I’m halfway through adding the new information on Coleman to the file in my app, I have no idea how to contact Dolos. No sooner does the thought cross my mind, a chat window pops up in the middle of the screen.
“Backdoor? Those douchebags.” I try to navigate away or close the window, but the only access I have is the chat window.
An irritated sound rumbles in my throat. This is pissing me off. My system isn’t easy to hack. I pride myself on the security measures I have in place to prevent compromises, but they’re able to slip past them with ease.
Dolos: Well? We know you infiltrated Coleman’s residence tonight.
Connor: The fuck? Were you watching me the whole time?
Dolos: Someone had to check you were doing as we said.
Connor: I thought you didn’t know where he lived?
Dolos: We didn’t. You found it, we traced your phone.
Connor: Whatever. Give me what you promised.
Dolos: Proof first. Take a picture.
Blowing out a breath, I lift the locket as my webcam connects. I peel off the electrical tape I cover the camera with and hold the locket close.
Dolos: Good.
A second later, a compressed file labeled HKC comes through, along with control of my computer again. I hold my breath as I double click to open it. Once it’s ready, air hisses from my lungs.
“Holy shit.”
It’s all there. Reports, police records, employment history. Between the stuff at his house and the files documenting his previous two employer records—both with complaints of sexual harassment and inappropriate conduct with minors in his charge—I have more than enough to make a move.
I’m so focused on combing through the information in the unsealed files, I almost miss the new message blinking in the chat window.
Dolos: Now we start the next phase. Stay put.
“What? No.” My brows pinch as I type.
Connor: Fuck that. Wherever you are, you can suck it. He’s here and he’s a threat.
Dolos: You will do nothing.
I don’t answer to these assholes. I’m getting fed up with them telling me what to do. Screw waiting, it’s time to act.
Dolos: Don’t be an idiot when you still have that cute little neighbor to think of. We hate making threats against the innocent ones.
Fuck.
Connor: Fine. What’s the next phase?
They don’t answer. The window disappears and the screen goes black, flashing with a laughing skull being circled by another 8-bit crow.
“Assholes.” I reboot my computer once again, really hating their idea of goodbye.
Every part of me revolts at the thought of sitting on my hands. I’ve done enough of that. If I don’t do something, Coleman has more chances to hurt Thea.
Why should I sit around and wait for whoever the hell these guys are when they’re somewhere else and I’m here in town with a monster hyper-focused on my girl?
I’ll die before I let the crows or Coleman touch her.
All I want to do is protect Thea. She won’t slip through my grasp.
Thirty-Two
Thea
In the morning, I feel like a husk. Maisy stayed up with me half the night after we gorged our way through the cupcakes, then ate frosting directly out of the mixing bowl during three full seasons of feel-good bake off competition. She helped me through the shock of finding out I should have an aunt.
Grandma never said anything. Maybe Mom forced her to hide it from me, but my heart aches for her, losing a daughter at such a young age in a horrible way.
Groggy, I roll over in bed. Maisy is starfished, arms and legs spread to take up most of the mattress while I’m curled against the edge. It’s funny that such a kind-hearted, giving person can be such a bed hog. I somehow end up fighting her skinny butt for space every time we’ve shared a bed over the years.
With a groan, I nudge her. “Up. Or move. Whatever you want, just do something because I’m about to fall off.”
Maisy cracks one hazel eye open, squinting at me. “Demon.”
“Maise.” I laugh as she burrows further under the covers.
“The sugar coma I’m coming off of might be the end of me. We had a good run, bestie.” She shuffles over, reaching out blindly to drag me closer. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll be okay, I think. Thank you.” I massage my forehead. “It was a lot on top of an already emotional state of mind.”
Maisy hums, hugging me. “Do you still want to go to the holiday market? Instead we could do a face mask spa day. Meditate it out? Or do I need to pull out the big guns with goat yoga?”
A sleep-tinged, husky chuckle rolls out of me. “Actually, I think I’m going to shower and head next door. I want to see if Connor is home before we go to the holiday market.”
“Mind, body, and spirit self-care bonding with a friend passed over for the power of a good dicking,” Maisy teases, pinching my sides where I’m ticklish.
I flail in my attempt to escape. “Maise, no!” I wail, clawing my way to freedom while she tortures me with precise attacks. “God, you’re the worst! You know it’s not like that!”
Laughing, she sits back against my headboard. “I know. The vagina needs its own worship to achieve the zen of self-care, too.”
“Oh my god, you’re such a weirdo.” I flop on my back, head dangling off the bed. “Love you.”
“Love you back,” she sings. “We’ll meet up later by the entrance to the bazaar?”
“Of course.”
“Sweet. Dibs on the shower first.”
“Go ahead. I’ll take one later.
As Maisy heads for the bathroom, I try messaging Connor again.
Thea: Are you around?
No response comes by the time she’s done.
An hour later, I’m standing outside Connor’s house after lunch time. I don’t know what I expected when I knocked on the door, but it wasn’t Mrs. Bishop answering instead of him. She’s dressed down, rather than the power suits I typically see her in. Maybe she has off from city council duties today.
“Oh. Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt your day, Mrs. Bishop.”
Mrs. Bishop leans against the door frame, rather than welcoming me inside. “Vivian, please. What is it?”
“Is Connor home?”
She sweeps her gaze over me, pursing her lips. It’s the most expressive reaction I’ve witnessed since that night in the coat closet at the benefit dinner.