Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance (5 page)

“War.”

I smile. “Of course. Silly me.”

Fox’s attention draws behind me and I turn again to see Caleb rushing back into the tent. Her eyes are downcast and her cheeks are bright red with a subtle, controlled rage. As she reaches her cot, she spots me sitting on it and she halts in her tracks.

“Caleb…” Fox clears his throat with playful eyes. “You okay?”

She inhales a deep breath, one that obviously fills her lungs to the very top.
“I’m fine.”
Her voice quivers softly.

“So—” I point around. “How long have you guys been out here?”

Fox looks up, counting in his head. “We’ve been at this camp about six months,” he answers. “Before that, it was about a year in Iraq.”

“Damn,” I say. I glance up at Caleb. “You, too?”

She doesn’t even look at me. “Yeah.” Her hands rise to her hips and I see her fingertips dig into her sides.

“Wow — I’ve only been here a few days and I already can’t stand it.”

“What are you even doing out here?” Fox asks.

“Just…
stuff
. Hey—” I look around. “I thought they didn’t allow lady soldiers this far into the combat zone, or am I wrong?”

Fox starts laughing but cuts it off quickly as his eyes shoot up to Caleb. “They usually don’t…” he says, “but somebody assigned her without realizing her name was
unisex
. No one super important has noticed yet and she’s too good to trade anyway, so… we keep it quiet.”

“Ohhh…” I look up at her and she throws me a side-ways glance. “Looks like we’re
both
outsiders around here.”

“Excuse me.” She spins around and swishes those little hips away. Of course, I stare at those tight cheeks as she exits the tent again.

“Does she do that a lot?” I ask Fox.

He shrugs. “I guess you just bring that out in people.”

“Story of my life.”

Caleb Fawn. My reluctant protector.

This should be fun.

Chapter 6

Caleb

Afghanistan

Two Years Ago

“Sergeant!”

He quickens his pace in a futile effort to avoid me. Does it piss me off? You’re damn right it does. It always has ever since the moment I was assigned to his unit. The lack of mutual respect between us is wearing thin.

“Sergeant!”

I watch him flinch as he turns around. He slides his hat off to rub the thick, prickly hairs on his round, sweaty head. “What is it, Fawn?”

“Sir, I have a problem with this.”

“With what?” He kicks a lump of sand with the heel of his boot.

“With Carson, sir.”

“Look— I don’t like it either, but he could prove useful—”

“I don’t mean that,” I say. “I mean passing him off to me. I’m not a babysitter, sir.”

His lips twitch. I can’t tell if he’s amused or pissed. Maybe both. “Well, what would you have me do with him?”

“I… I don’t know but, sir, it’s not my job to look after
civilian intelligence freelancers.
”

“Your job is to do whatever I tell you to do, Fawn.”

“I ain’t arguing against that, sir,” I say, “I just think my skills could be put to better use than this.”

“Fawn…” he sighs with impatience. “You should thank your lucky stars you’re even out here in the first place. I could have sent you back home but
I didn’t
.”

“I know that, sir — and I really appreciate that, but—”

“I like you, Fawn. I do.” He slides his hat back on to block out the harsh sun and I sense the tone of his voice harden. If I want to make an argument, I better do it now. “You’re one hell of a good soldier and you can hold your own against most everybody here—”

“Sir—”

“—but I can’t help it if I sleep better knowing you’re not first in line to get shot at or worse. Now — Carson has a job to do and it’s
your
job
now to make sure he does it. Understood?”

“I don’t trust him, sir.”

“And neither do I. Let’s just say that’s another reason why I’m entrusting him with
you.
” He takes a quick step closer. His brow hangs over his eyes, casting a purposeful shadow along the bridge of his nose. “
Understood
, Fawn?”

I force my argument beneath my tongue. There’s no changing Rhys’ mind on this. It’d be stupid for me to keep bashing my head into this wall and I’ve already got a big enough headache right now as it is. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, go play nice and keep a close eye on him,” he says, spinning on his heel. “Find him a bed and some clean clothes.”

“Yes, sir…” I mutter.

“Like you mean it, Fawn.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Atta girl.”

He wanders off, leaving me more pissed off than when I first walked out here.

Goddammit.

I head back to the barracks to get out of the sun and embrace the shade for a few moments until I reach my cot. Of course, Carson — or whatever the hell he calls himself — is sitting on it with his mud-covered slacks and filthy hands.

“Caleb…” Fox looks up at me, obviously hinting at me to play nice just like Rhys told me to. “You okay?”

I inhale a heavy breath.
“I’m fine.”

“So—” Boxcar makes a wide hand gesture. It’s obviously meant to grab my attention but I keep my eyes down. “How long have you guys been out here?”

“About a year now,” Fox answers him. “We’ve been at this camp about six months. Before that, it was about a year in Iraq.”

“Damn. You, too?”

I shift my hands up onto my hips, feeling his eyes on me. There’s a temptation in me to meet his gaze but I force it aside. I’ll admit, there’s something interesting about him but he can’t be trusted — that much is obvious. “Yeah.”

“Wow — I’ve only been here a few days and I already can’t stand it.”

“What are you even doing out here?” Fox asks him.

I finally let my eyes fall on him.

“Just…
stuff
.”

Bingo.
He won’t even answer the question. He doesn’t even have a rehearsed lie to answer with instead. He’s changing the subject and Fox the Trusting is falling for it. Whatever this
Boxcar
is doing out here, it’s not good.

I study his face. Youthful but wise — he’d be almost
charming
if he knew how to use it right.

Boxcar cranes his neck to look up at me and I almost flinch. “Looks like we’re
both
outsiders out here.”

“Excuse me.” I turn around and exit the tent again, feeling his trained eyes on me the entire time.

If I’m going to figure out what he’s really up to, then I’m going to have up my game here. It pains me to say it but my gender might be the most helpful thing in this scenario. I saw the way he looked at me and I can use that to my advantage.

Win him over. Gain his trust. Figure out what he’s up to before it gets us all killed.

“Caleb,” Fox says, bridging the short distance between us.

I glance up from my hiding spot behind the crates stacked up near the jeeps. Nothing but desert as far as the eye can see. It’s about the only calming sight one can find out here and it’s exactly what I need right now. “Fox,” I greet him.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks, smiling wide.

“Not really, no.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“That’s easy for you to say…” I cross my arms. “You’re not the one that has to play bodyguard to some annoying tag-a-long.”

He chuckles. “You have to admit — it could be worse.”

“This isn’t funny, Fox.”

“Boxcar doesn’t seem so bad.”

I sigh. “Except for the part where he could easily be up to no good,” I point out. “You saw how he dodged your questions. What the hell is he even doing out here?”

“We’ll figure that out,” Fox says. “In the meantime, we might as well make the best of it.”

I breathe a laugh. “You and that optimism, Fox…” I shake my head. “I don’t know how you do it out here.”

He gives a half shrug. “I’ve already lost the most important thing in the world to me. Whatever this place can throw at me… it won’t be nearly as bad as that.”

I nod softly. Fox and his taboo girl. He talks about her more often than he’ll admit and probably thinks about her even more than that. Part of me wonders if he came all the way out here just to avoid her name in sparkling lights around every corner. “Well… could be worse, right?” I muse.

He pauses for a moment. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Liar. I don’t blame him, though.

My mind drifts back to Boxcar and I practice a friendly smile to use on him.

It’s time to find out who the hell this guy is.

Chapter 7

Caleb

Present Day

Los Angeles

Sundays. My one day off. I used to keep Fawn’s Pawn open seven days a week but that just wasn’t sustainable. Even control freaks like me get tired sometimes and there’s only so much one girl can do on her own.

I sit down on my couch. It’s just after noon. I have the entire day to lounge, relax, eat shitty food, and watch Netflix. I’ve been looking forward to it all week and
nothing
is going to stop me. There’s not a single thing in the world right now that can’t wait until Monday.

I grab a soda and a bag of chips and head into the living room. As I sit down, I sink deep into the couch cushions and take a long, calming breath.

Oh, yeah. Here we go—

A knock strikes my door.

“Ignore it…”
I whisper aloud. I sit as frozen as ice, refusing to make a noise until I hear them leave.

Another knock thumps against wood, this one more eager than the last. I take a quick breath, letting it soothe the rage building in my breast. This is my day off.
My one day off
. I’ll just sit here and wait and eventually they’ll piss off and disappear.

The impatient fist bangs even harder and I can’t hold back my voice.

“Go away!”

“Caleb, it’s me.”

Oh, hell no.

Hell-fucking-no
.

I’m dreaming. That’s what this is. It’s just a horrible nightmare. It seems awfully realistic. I look around my living room, marveling in the accurate representation of my loft. My couch in the center of the room, facing the television. One cardboard box in the corner full of movies because I haven’t bothered to buy shelving. Behind me is the kitchen — if you can even call it one. Bare and simple. Across from that is my unmade bed. I just have to wake up, that’s all. I’ll wake up and his voice will once again be a distant memory.

“Caleb!”

Please wake up.

“Go away!”
I shout it again.

“Please, Caleb. I need to talk to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Boxcar — I swear to god…”

I succumb to the truth.

This is no dream. This is really happening.

I am Rosemary staring down into the black bassinet. That baby with the glowing, red eyes is mine.

I perk up my ears, preparing myself to argue with him a little more but to my surprise, he says nothing. Not one damn word. I don’t know why he’s here and sure as hell don’t want to know — but I find his silence
interesting
nonetheless.

Not interesting enough to get me off this couch, though.

I reach for the television remote and flick it on, immediately navigating to my Netflix menu. There’s a certain show I’ve been dying to binge-watch and today’s the day I’m finally going to make a massive dent in season two.

I push play and sit back into the cushions to immerse myself in the opening theme song.

The picture freezes. I grit my teeth, waiting for it to buffer and keep going.

Any moment now…

A message pops up, covering the entire screen.
Please check your internet settings.