The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland, #2)

by Lindt, Allyson

She surrendered the Glock. “You’re about to hate this.” Sympathy shone in her eyes. “I did it for Alex once, when he fell on a camping trip.” She trailed her fingers down the useless limb hanging at his side.

  Blake didn’t know if he was relieved that she might know how to reset his shoulder. “Go for— Fuuuuuuuck.” Another scream tore from his throat when she twisted and yanked the joint back into place without warning.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Fuck, no.” He struggled to catch his breath. “Okay, maybe a little.” It took several seconds, but the stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes.

  Jabberwock was silent through the ordeal. Thank God for small favors.

  Reagan waited until Blake focused on her again, then nodded down the hallway. She’d changed so much since he first met her, but he’d been wrong before where she had it right. She wasn’t broken; she was stronger. More mature. And when they got out of here, he was taking her away from this fucked up system. Someplace they could vanish.

  The resumed their hunt-and-peck journey. Pain licked the edges of his consciousness, whispering, Can you make it? Are you sure? He forced it back.

  Whatever Jabberwock had waiting at the end of this was going to be worse than a dislocated shoulder.

  That didn’t mean he was going to give up. He didn’t work that way. Even when he’d been shot, he didn’t let the darkness creep in.

  So why was it harder to stash this feeling behind a wall than it should be?

  REAGAN WAS WORRIED about Blake. His skin was several shades paler than when they arrived. He gripped his pistol tightly and kept up his surveillance, but if he didn’t clench his jaw, his teeth chattered. The injury plus the falling temperatures had to be wreaking havoc on his system.

  “Fuck it. They fucked with you.” Alex’s voice carried over the speakers. A ghost she never expected to hear again, taunting her in a tone she’d never experienced from him. Cold. Cruel. “A quick death is a kindness.”

  Her stomach lurched, and the little sister in her whimpered.

  “Who is that?” Blake looked at her. “Oh.”

  She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She didn’t want to hear a replay of Alex’s life with Jabberwock.

  “This is White Rabbit at his finest.” Jabberwock’s tone was proud now. Smug. “I hated losing him.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have killed him.” Reagan was impressed she managed to keep her voice steady.

  “Consider it practice, for what I’m going to do to Blake. Have I ever thanked you for this, Alice? For setting everything in motion? I don’t think I have.”

  She’d promised Blake this asshole wouldn’t get in her head. She refused to break that vow, but Jabberwock had a point. Playing a game was her suggestion, back then. It was also a way for her and Blake to get out, so she refused to second-guess the action.

  “No comeback? You can do better than that, Alice.” Jabberwock sounded disappointed.

  She followed Blake, concern growing every time she caught a glimpse of his pinched expression. “Did you really promise my brother you’d keep me safe?” She didn’t know why she asked Jabberwock that now. Maybe she hoped she could use it in her favor. It was a stupid thing to wish for, but she didn’t have a long list of options.

  “I did promise him that. And I am keeping you safe. Watching you grow. Making sure you stay out of the wrong hands,” Jabberwock said.

  “He took two kilos from your vendor. I think you should get two fingers in return.” It was another clip of Alex. It faded into a scream similar to those Blake had let out a few minutes ago.

  No. That wasn’t her brother suggesting someone lose their digits. It was manufactured. A cruel game.

  “We could drop her in Montana,” Alex’s ghost spoke in a casual tone. “Take her coat and shoes. Ditch her in a snowbank. She tried to set you up.”

  “She was one of Blake’s colleagues. You remember her, don’t you, Blake? Cute little brunette with the huge... attitude?”

  Blake’s nostrils flared, but he moved forward.

  Reagan was glad she skipped breakfast this morning, as an acrid taste filled her mouth. She checked the next door. Locked. Go figure.

  “You loved your brother, didn’t you?” Jabberwock asked. “Adored him. Spent your adult life looking for ways to avenge him. He’d be so proud of you and what you’re becoming.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, to keep a retort from slipping out.

  “This is where you say, I’m nothing like that.” Jabberwock’s suggestion added another layer of ice to what was already forming naturally in her veins.

  “It sounds like a cheesy movie line, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm... Good point.”

  The problem was Reagan worried she might be exactly like that. If she’d fallen half a step further. If she didn’t have Blake to ground her. And she didn’t know if she’d moved far enough away from that point to escape it. If she did tumble down that pit, though, she was taking Jabberwock’s corpse with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sawyer sat in the audio booth above the balcony in the high-school auditorium, watching Blake and Alice on the screen in front of him. It was a shame he hadn’t had more time to wire the place with cameras and mics, but there was coverage over every square foot, and that would do.

  The PA system was shit. However, it did give the whole affair that perfect eerie feeling.

  He was disappointed with Blake. He’d expected more of the soldier to kick in, and less of the... whatever Blake had become. It didn’t matter. Sawyer would kill the man at the end of the night.

  Alice shone, though. Icy. Cool. She’d fumbled with the reminder of her imprisonment but recovered. Fuck—he loved seeing that.

  The door clicked behind him. He didn’t have to look. Alice and Blake were on-screen, so it would be Lisa.

  “You’re all set.” Her tone was as cool as the air.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Something wrong?”

  “Why are we doing this?” she asked.

  “It’s a game. You know that. Lead the mice through the maze, see how they hunt based on punishment or reward, and pluck Alice out when it’s all over.”

  Lisa frowned. “Like you did with Alex?”

  Sawyer was surprised to hear her bring that up, after so long. “Alex had to be punished.”

  “I loved him, and you knew it.”

  Sawyer clenched his jaw. “He broke your heart.”

  “No, he didn’t.” A sharp edge crept into her voice. “You did, when you killed him.”

  “You misunderstood. I did that for you. For your sanity.” Sawyer set aside his irritation. “I didn’t realize you were upset about that still.” Alex had threatened to erase Lisa’s objectivity. He violated boundaries and tried to steal her away from this. From Wonderland. From the life she loved.

  Sawyer hadn’t done anything but set him right—show him the error of his ways, before sending him to the next world.

  “It’s not the kind of thing you just get over.” Her voice rose in volume. She snapped her mouth shut and glared at him.

  “It’s been almost six years. He wasn’t healthy for you.”

  “You know what’s not healthy?” She was all but shouting. “This fucking obsession you have with Reagan.”

  Sawyer needed to get back to his game. “It’s almost over. I promise. Why didn’t you tell me you were still upset about him?”

  “I should have. You’re right.” Lisa took a deep breath, and her calm returned. “It’s cold, and I’m tired, and we need to deal with Cat, and we’re here instead.”

  “That’s fair. We’ll go get coffee and soup after this?”

  Lisa gave him a warm smile. “All right. Hurry. I mean, as much as is possible.”

  “Of course.” Sawyer returned his attention to the screen, his pawn, and his soon-to-be new queen.

  BLAKE HOVERED ON A knife’s edge between agony and fury. Watching Reagan’s reaction to her brother’s voice
sliced him from a new direction and left pain the dislocated shoulder couldn’t match.

  He closed the distance between them, staying on alert while he pressed his good shoulder against her. A trickle of heat—soothing, healing, life giving—flowed between them. That might be a bit melodramatic, but considering the way his arm throbbed with pain, he’d allow himself the indulgence.

  “Whatever you hear now doesn’t change the person you remember.” Blake cringed the moment the words of comfort passed his lips. He’d spoken too loudly.

  Reagan gave him a tired smile that vanished a heartbeat later.

  “You say that.” Jabberwock dragged the words out. “Do you mean it?”

  “I do. Besides, the colleague you’re referencing, the cute brunette, didn’t freeze to death in a snowbank in Montana. She was tipped off that someone knew about her, and she was pulled from the assignment.” Blake motioned down the hallway for them to proceed, and Reagan followed.

  The dull look in her eyes worried him.

  “My money says he wants you to take that out of context.” Blake had no idea whether or not that was true, but for Reagan’s sake, he hoped it was.

  Jabberwock’s laugh clawed down Blake’s spine. “You know what the biggest difference between White Rabbit and Hatter was?” Jabberwock asked. “And no, this isn’t a riddle. White Rabbit was a sadist, but Hatter was a strategic artist. Everything flowed in front of him like a chessboard. Methodical. Mechanical. Precise.”

  Blake’s shoulder throbbed harder, knocking behind his skull. What else did this lunatic have? There were a lot of things Blake did as Hatter that could be seen as evil and weren’t, but just as many that were truly horrific.

  Reagan stopped next to Blake again and motioned for him to tilt his head. “We’ve checked every door,” she whispered, “and none of the stairwells up are unlocked.”

  How had he lost track of that? He wanted to question her observation, but the way his brain swam, he suspected she was more right than he was.

  “What now?” She mouthed the words.

  “If you block the north, south, and west entrance, you force them out the east.” Blake’s words mocked him from the speakers. “Let them try to run upstairs, if you want, but funnel them into a wide-open space. Where you have as many hiding spots as they do.”

  Fucking hell. He knew this scenario, because it was his. A small office building in Shanghai. An executive who threatened to go public with information about Jabberwock. Hatter and Hare were assigned to take care of the problem. It was one of Blake’s first tasks after he reached the top, and he’d worked overtime to prove himself.

  All the exits downstairs were blocked, though.

  So Jabberwock was behind one of the doors they already checked, and Blake would bet it was on this floor. A room with no windows. Possibly the library, if it still had furniture and shelves.

  And he assumed Queen was here somewhere. A different room, most likely. Jabberwock might have a screw loose, but he wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t do this alone. Not like last time.

  “Nothing from either of you?” Jabberwock shouted. “Come on.”

  “Enough,” Blake barked the word at the same time as Reagan. A trickle of smugness joined his frustration.

  “Just one more?” Jabberwock asked.

  “No.” Blake nodded Reagan toward a door at the other end of the hallway. It was a double door on a short incline. Possibly the entrance to an auditorium.

  She took the hint and led the way. When she pushed, unlike last time, the door opened.

  They stepped into a small alcove, lights along the floor providing the only illumination. The door swung shut behind them, and he paused while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  He placed his mouth near her ear. “Next to me at all times. Keep in contact, so we don’t lose each other. Stick to the wall.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  They crept forward, hugging the carpeting that lined the walls of the room. It was slower going than in the hallway, as he had to check down every aisle of seats. He hated that he couldn’t see under them, but unless someone was hiding in the rows, they’d have to scramble out to get to him or Reagan, and that should allow time to react.

  They reached the stage after what seemed like an eternity, and moved up slowly.

  The pressure against his arm vanished at the same time Reagan gasped. He whirled, to see the curtains next to him flutter and drop back into place. His heart leaped into his throat. “Reagan?” he whispered.

  Nothing.

  He crept forward and shoved the curtain aside. It was too dark to see anything. The walkway lights didn’t reach back here. “Reagan?” he shouted into the emptiness.

  His voice echoed back. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

  A speaker blared next to his ear, and a screen a few feet away lit up with a projection.

  “All right, Mister Bossy.” Reagan’s voice came from several points at once, and her image flickered onto the screen. She sounded light and playful. A carefree tone Blake had only heard once, when they first met in Las Vegas. He stepped back, to get a better view of the movie.

  “Yes, Sir will do fine. And think of it as practice for this evening.” That was Jabberwock. He stood in what looked like a high-end dressing room, with Reagan, who was undressing.

  Blake’s nausea grew. He didn’t think that was possible.

  “Day of the wine tasting.” Now-Jabberwock overlapped himself then. “When we all became such good friends.”

  Blake hadn’t forgotten Reagan slept with Jabberwock. He never cared to ask for details, but it wasn’t something he resented or blamed her for. That didn’t mean he wanted to hear it play out.

  “Except I’m not letting you strip me down in a room full of strangers.” Her recording, cheerful and on the edge of lust, mocked the pained look she wore these days.

  The rage that spilled through Blake burned away the chill and numbed the pain in his shoulder, putting a clarity in his mind that had vanished since they arrived here. In his head, he retraced their steps. He pictured every room, locker, and shift in the wall.

  He could go after Reagan, but he didn’t know where she was. But Jabberwock was in here. Someplace above the stage. Blake was willing to gamble his life on it. He prayed he wasn’t betting Regan’s at the same time.

  Next question—how was Blake going to get to Jabberwock?

  Chapter Thirty

  The grip on Reagan’s arm was tight, and the hand covering her mouth was calloused It wasn’t Jabberwock; she knew that much. A list of options for escape ticked through her head in a blink, and all landed on one conclusion—this was a group of people who didn’t hesitate to kill. Pissing them off was a bad idea.

  “You saw the photo.” Queen’s voice was right next to Reagan’s head.

  Reagan nodded, her pulse hammering in her ears.

  “If you promise not to make a sound unless I say it’s okay, I can get you out of here alive, and probably Blake too. Deal?”

  Reagan questioned a lot of things over the last six months, and made as many mistakes as not when it came to who she trusted, but Queen was Kitten, the woman in Alex’s journal. Reagan had to take the chance this was a good idea. She nodded.

  Queen let go of her, and Reagan whirled. The other woman stood in a casual posture. That didn’t mean she had dropped her guard.

  “The cameras and microphones are off in here, but it won’t be long before Jabberwock figures that out. We don’t have much time.”

  Reagan nodded, keeping her promise not to speak at the front of her mind.

  “Blake is right about those clips of Alex. They’re out of context. Your brother was the most wonderful man I’ve ever known. And those clues you’ve been following? They weren’t for you; they were for me.”

  “But why?” Reagan clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Queen gave her a dry smile. “Alex always told me he left proof of everything, just in case. He and I knew Jabberwock wasn’t stable. Al
ex said I could go to you, if I needed help figuring things out, but when I sent you the photos after he died, I tracked them. You didn’t even open them. Jabberwock was watching you, so I didn’t have the option of approaching you back then.

  “So I built my own solution,” Queen said. “I’ve been deconstructing things from the inside. Biding my time. Waiting until I could make my move.”

  A lot of things made sense to Reagan now, but she had so many questions, too. “But you already know everything. Why didn’t you destroy Jabberwock yourself?” She wasn’t supposed to speak, but Queen didn’t look upset at the outburst.

  “I don’t want to destroy Wonderland; I want to own it. I had to know that what Alex collected wouldn’t take it from me if you found it.”

  “Lisa.” Jabberwock’s shout filled the air, ringing in Reagan’s head. “It’s show time. Are you and your guest ready?”

  Queen frowned and drew a pistol from the holster at her hip. “Time’s up. I need you to be my prisoner. He’ll go for Blake first and make you watch.”

  “How do you know that?” Regan asked.

  “Because it’s what he did to me with Alex. He’ll kill Blake as slowly as he can, while you watch, and if you don’t react the way Jabberwock wants, then you’ll be next. If we go now, we might reach Blake before he does.”

  Reagan could hear the rest later. “I’m your prisoner. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sawyer watched on the cameras as Lisa emerged from the room she held Alice in. Desire, white and hot, ripped through his veins. Soon, Alice would be his. She’d see that Blake wasn’t worth her effort.

  Alice would yield to Sawyer, the way she had in the dressing room. At the masquerade. Every time she encountered him.

  He double-checked, to ensure his holster was secure and that he carried a blade in his inside jacket pocket.

  If Alice the insignificant mites that was Blake, they could die together.

  But she was Sawyers. The way Lisa was. He’d have his White Queen and his Queen of Hearts, and together, they’d watch anyone burn who dared stand in their way.