Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance (18 page)

“Honey…”
She shifts into a side-eye. “We dropped your name once and he came running out here from fucking
Massachusetts
.”

A smile visits my mouth but I keep it down. “I guess he did.” She stands up and tosses her now stuffed bag onto a seat near the wall. “Lilah, you don’t have to do this. Just leave Fox alone—”

“Caleb, don’t confuse my docile tone for weakness,” she says quickly. “I came here to do a job and I intend on finishing it. It’s nothing personal.”

“Fox is like a brother to me,” I urge, glancing at Elijah. “Surely you can imagine why I want to protect him.”

Lilah inhales deep. “I’m sorry, Caleb… but it’s your family or mine.”

I open my mouth to argue further but quickly realize there’s no point. Lilah and Elijah are trained killers. Appealing to their humanity isn’t going to get me very far. No amount of sisterly bonding over boutique dresses is going to change her mind either. “I’m sorry about your eye,” I say instead.

“No, you’re not,” she smirks.

“You’re right. You deserved it.”

Her curved brow points upward and she spins on her heel to join Elijah behind the counter. Before she takes three steps, the lights of the store go dark and she freezes in place. “Elijah…” she says, “what’d you do?”

“It wasn’t me.” He stares at the computer again and I hear the frantic taps of keys and clicks of the mouse. “The outdoor security cams have been overridden—”

“Move.” Lilah nudges him aside to take control but the monitor shuts off the second she touches the keyboard.
“Dammit…”

An explosion echoes from the back rooms, sending Elijah and Lilah into a quick sprint towards the source. With their eyes finally off of me, I try to pull against the harsh, tight tape keeping me latched to the chair but I can do nothing useful in my current condition. I doubt I could even stand up on my own, given the opportunity.

“Caleb—”

I look over my shoulder, drawn to his quick, piercing whisper.
“Boxcar—”
He kneels down in front of me and pulls a pocket knife from his pack. “What the hell are you doing—”

“I tracked your phone call,” he says, smirking like a smartass.

“Yeah, except it was
their
phone call. You walked right into a damn trap.”

He pauses. “I did?”

I gesture over his shoulder and he peeks around as Lilah and Elijah raise their guns from their spot behind the counter.

“Yes,” Elijah says, “you did.”

“Drop the knife,
Boxcar
,” Lilah warns.

Boxcar gazes up at me over the rims of his glasses. His fingers spread wide and the tiny knife tumbles to the floor. “Sorry,” he whispers at me.

“It’s okay…” I say, fear clenching at me. Now that he’s here, Elijah’s threats from earlier come hurdling back to me.

Lilah grabs his arm as Elijah pulls up a second chair and positions it across from me. They force Boxcar onto it and Lilah keeps one hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” I beg.

“Tell us where we can find Fox and we won’t,” she says. “Last chance.”

I look over at Elijah as he withdraws a cylindrical canvas bag and unrolls it across the counter to reveal various knives inside, each one just waiting to carve into Boxcar. My heart sinks.
“Please.”

Boxcar stares back at me and I recognize his eyes. It’s that same cocky glance, like he has everything under control but he sure as hell doesn’t. He nods at me but fear overtakes him as Elijah passes a glittering blade in front of his widening eyes and into Lilah’s outstretched hand.

“Boxcar,” Lilah begins again, “think about it. It’s just Fox Fitzpatrick.”

“He saved my life,” Boxcar argues.

“And he
really
fucked up ours,” she replies. “Along with the lives of hundreds of others. He could have gone out quietly. Instead, he chose to sink the ship while he snuck off in a damn lifeboat.”

“Boo-hoo,” he mutters.

I inhale sharply as Lilah flexes her fingers around the knife. “Box…”

“No, I stand by it.” He shakes his head. “Why should we care about a bunch of assassins having a career crisis?”

“Because…” Elijah says, clearing his throat, “it wasn’t just a
bunch of assassins
that had their lives torn away by all of this. I can think of one innocent woman in Illinois that may never walk again and the reason why traces right back to Fox’s actions. Who knows how far out that ripple has traveled and how many lives have been tampered with because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Killing Fox won’t change any of that,” Boxcar argues.

“No, but it’ll make our boss very happy,” Elijah says. “Believe me when I tell you that it’s better off for everyone involved, including the two of you, that she stays that way.”

“We’re not giving up Fox,”
I say through my teeth, drawing Boxcar’s shaking eyes.

He nods back at me. “Do what you want — cut me, kill me — I don’t care.”

“You’re willing to die to protect him?” Lilah asks.

Boxcar doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. He’d do the same for me.”

Her eyes shift away from him and land on me. “Are you willing to watch
her
die to protect him?”

I can see it in his eyes.
No
. He’s absolutely not willing to watch me die at all. His tense shoulders submit down and his jaw flexes. “Boxcar —
no.
They aren’t going to kill me. They’ve already told me that.”

Lilah smirks. “And you believed me?” Her hand slips off Boxcar’s shoulder as she steps towards me. He shifts in his chair but Elijah forces him back down with a strong hand. “We were told to take care of Fox Fitzpatrick. The reward is well-worth an extra one or two lives and I will bear that weight if I have to.”

Boxcar pinches his eyes closed as she lays the cold blade against my neck. “Please, stop—” he begs.

“Tell us where Fox is,” she says. I feel the sharp pressure on my skin and Boxcar’s resolve shakes even more. “You have
three seconds
and then I spill every drop of her on the floor.”

“Box, don’t—” I cry.

“Three.”

He grits his teeth.

“Two.”

The knife digs deeper.

“One—”

“Okay!” Boxcar shouts. “He’s here—”

I exhale as sadness overwhelms me.
“Box…”

“In Los Angeles,” he tells them. “I’ll take you to him.”

Lilah lowers the blade and passes it back to Elijah. Her cold eyes dip down to me. “I guess he didn’t rush out here just for
you
after all,” she says.

My eyes falls to the floor as the twins wander away from us to gather their things. I feel Boxcar’s stare on me but I can’t bring myself to even look at him.

Dammit, Boxcar.
She was bluffing. Even if she wasn’t, you shouldn’t have traded Fox’s life for mine.

Elijah walks back over to my chair and swipes the duct tape around my wrists with his knife. My arms slink down into my lap. I think for a moment that I’ll try to lift them but I can barely get them elbow high before they fall down again. He moves to lift me up and carry me out but Boxcar steps forward.

“Move—” he says. “I’ll do that.” Elijah slides back and Boxcar kneels down in front of me. “You okay?” he whispers. I don’t answer. Instead, I give a half shake of my head and his eyes grow a bit darker with shame. “I’m sorry. There’s no other way. He’ll understand that.”

“Let’s go,” Lilah barks, growing impatient.

Boxcar helps me out of the chair. I feel my knees caving in beneath my weight already and I lean against his willing shoulders to keep myself up. He sighs and bends over to scoop me into his arms but I don’t do a thing to argue. The swelling warmth in my chest wouldn’t allow it anyway. He holds me closer and I rest my head on his shoulder.

As twisted as she is, Lilah is right. Boxcar would sacrifice just about anything to save my life and I can’t deny or ignore that fact any longer. He may be all I have left once this is all over.

I wrap my arms around his neck, moving as quickly as my dead muscles will allow and his grip tightens around me. He holds me as close as possible, almost as if it’s the last time he ever will.

The Harts lead us out into the back alleyway and into their black car. The two of them sit up front while Boxcar keeps a firm grip on me. Fox’s address passes off of his tongue and he squeezes my hand hard to beg for my forgiveness.

“If you’re lying,” Lilah hums from the driver’s seat, “I’ll kill you.”

“He’s not,” I murmur, leaning against Boxcar’s shoulder.

She ticks her tongue. “I figured, but… still, it’s fun to say.”

I don’t have the energy to laugh at her joke, nor would I if I did.

I can’t believe I’m about to go through this all over again.

The death of Fox Fitzpatrick.

Chapter 17

Boxcar

Afghanistan

Two Years Ago

“So, let me get this straight…” Rhys heaves a thick breath and I feel the phantom noose tighten a little more around my neck. He leans forward from his spot on the edge of the table in the command tent, his eyes burrowing a little deeper into mine. “You got kidnapped by
an old lady
?”

Rogers and West chuckle behind my chair but I ignore it. “It wasn’t so much the old lady as much as it was the giant men with assault rifles, but yes.”

“And you think she’s here?”

I shake my head. “Not her — but
they
are. I saw them on the Army’s surveillance footage of Kabul.”

He raise a brow. “And how did you get access to
that
?”

“It wasn’t difficult — and isn’t it my
job
to keep an eye on things around here anyway?”

“We’re a little far from Kabul, kid.”

My head drops. “You can press charges against me later,” I say, “but
please,
we’ve already wasted enough time. They could be gone by now.”

Rhys pauses and his eyes scan the others behind me. “Fawn,” he mutters, “you vouch for this?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it to you if I didn’t, sir,” she answers. I fight the urge to turn around and look at her, no matter how comforting the act might be right now.

He narrows his eyes and his tongue pushes at his cheek in thought. “And you have no idea what they wanted those files for?” he asks me.

“No. Like I said, they could be for some kind of recruitment but I can’t be sure. It’s what I’ve been trying to find out since I got here.” He goes silent again and scratches at his fuzzy face. “I’m telling you the truth. I have no reason to make this up and you know it.”

“Oh, I have no doubts you’re telling the truth, kid,” he says. “That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

Rhys stands up and keeps his eyes on me as he rounds the table. “I’ve suspected for a while now that someone over our heads was… a little less than truthful.” He waves me over with his fingers and I step forward as he rolls out a map of Afghanistan across the table. “The warehouse you found is
here
,” he points at the map. “Now, a few weeks before we picked you up, we tailed another convoy to a compound about fifteen miles south of camp. We called it in and command told us to forget about it.”

“Just like they said to forget about this one?”

He nods. “This has happened about a half dozen times in the last year. Same story, different location. We track them down, command tells us to back off for no reason.”

“You think someone up top knows who they are and what they’re doing?”

“I wasn’t sure until just now…”

“So, what do we do about it?” Fox asks. I look over my shoulder, drawn back by his steady voice. He stands behind me now and I’m thankful to see trust in his eyes — the same I see in Caleb’s. Since the moment I arrived here, he’s had my back more than anyone.

“Well…” Rhys stands up tall. “We can call it in and wait for them to shoot us down or we can just say
fuck it
and deal with the slap on the wrist later.”

A flowery scent teases my nose and I know that the new boots behind me are Caleb’s. A quick look back tells me that Rogers and West aren’t sitting anymore either. “I don’t want anyone getting slapped for this but me,” I say.

Rhys chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that, kid? Everybody suit up. Let’s find out what these bastards are up to.”

I sigh as they all spin around and march out of the command tent one-by-one. Caleb lingers back with me and when I finally glance up, she’s smiling. “What?” I ask, my stomach growling with dread.

“You look about ready to hurl.”

“I might.”

“Well, keep it together,” she says. She rolls her fist and nudges my shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Being
friends
with Caleb Fawn is a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Suddenly, every threat is far scarier than it should be. Every potential bug in the code is a virus just waiting to wipe out everything of value — everything that means something to me.