“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.
Dammit.
I pick up the remote again and navigate to the settings menu, flicking through until I reach the wi-fi settings.
Incorrect password. Please reenter your password.
Heat rises on my skin. I raise an eyebrow and tap my password in.
Incorrect password.
I input it again, this time making extra sure every button I push is correct.
Incorrect password.
I hop up off the couch, heaving a thick, annoyed sigh as I head over to the router to make sure—
Wait…
That son-of-a-bitch.
I rush to my door and throw it open.
Boxcar stands in my hallway with his laptop balanced on one knee. He jolts as I step outside, nearly letting the thing fall to the floor but he catches it and closes it before it slips.
“Did you just change my wi-fi password?” I seethe, staring him down like the bug he is.
“Yes, I did,” he answers.
“Change it back.”
“No.”
My eye twitches. “Boxcar…”
“Caleb…”
“Change it back!”
“No.” His eyes halo around my head. “Hey — you grew out your hair. It looks nice—”
“Box…” I growl.
He clears his throat and adjusts his posture, standing up a little taller. He only has about an inch or two on me in height but he’s trying very hard to stretch that out as much as possible. “I need your help.”
“I don’t care.” My eyes fall down his body. He’s tired. I can tell that by the gray circles nestled beneath his glasses. He hasn’t combed his hair in a while either. His jacket is wrinkled and his fingers twitch subtly at his sides — meaning he’s had way too much coffee today or he’s scared shitless or both. I shake off the analysis, forcing any instinct for concern away. “Why would you think I’d care?”
“Caleb…” he pauses. “I just need a bit of your expertise—”
“No.”
“—and maybe a place to crash.”
“Hell no.”
“Please, Cal.”
He’s desperate. Good. “No means no, Box,” I say, turning back around. “I don’t have time for this.” I step back into the loft and slam the door behind me, leaving his sorry ass outside.
“Caleb…”
I keep walking across the room towards to the router. Hopefully, I can reset it to the factory settings and change the password to something he can’t easy crack into again.
“Caleb—” His voice sounds muffled but close, almost as if he’s pressing his face against the door. “If you help me, I’ll… I’ll do it.”
I stop in my tracks. “Do what?”
It takes him a few moments to respond. “I’ll sign the papers.”
My breath catches in my lungs as I spin back to the door and fling it open. He stands in the doorway, staring back at me with sadness behind his eyes. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll sign the papers.”
Holy shit.
Whatever is going on with him must really be serious if he’s making this kind of bargain. “You can’t just throw that out there unless you mean it, Box.”
“I mean it,” he says, his voice low. “If you help me, I’ll give you the divorce.”
I cross my arms and study him a little closer. There’s pain in his eyes; the kind I’ve never seen in him before. “What’s going on?”
“Does that mean you’ll help?”
“It means I’ll listen,” I say. “I make no promises.”
“I’ll take it,” he says. “Can I come in?”
I hesitate. Bad things tend to happen when Boxcar and I are alone together, no matter the context. “Talk,” I say, refusing to budge.
“Okay…” He slides his laptop into his messenger bag and lets it fall to the floor before leaning against the door frame. “So, I assume you’re up-to-date on t
his Snake Eyes crap?”
“For the most part.” I shrug. “Fox filled me in on a few things. I thought you wiped out any record of his involvement.”
“I did,” he says. “As far as the law is concerned, Fox was never involved but Snake Eyes remembers him pretty well. Two of them showed up at my place last night.”
I do a quick scan of him again, checking for fresh bruises or scrapes or gunshot wounds. Old habit, I guess. There’s little to see of him around a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He definitely dresses like he’s from the New England area nowadays. It’s a little warm for it on this side of the country. He left in a hurry. “What did they want?” I ask.
“They were looking for Fox. I denied I knew anything so…” he pauses and his eyes fall to the floor between us. “They said they’d come ask his old army buddy instead.”
That would be me, obviously. It’s no surprise that Snake Eyes is pissed off at Fox for outing them. Of course some of them have decided to retaliate against him. “Why didn’t you go to Fox with this?”
“I did. He’s safe for now — in Japan.”
I scoff. “So, I was an afterthought? Real cool, Box…”
He tilts his head forward and glares at me over his black rims. “Like you’re going to fault me for going to our buffer first?”
I pause for a moment before nodding. “Fair enough.” He looks back at me with growing concern; concern I originally assumed was for his own well-being, but now I realize that’s not the case at all. He didn’t rush out here to save his own ass.
He came out here to save mine.
I take a step back and open the door the rest of the way.
Boxcar bends down to retrieve his bag and he follows me inside with wandering eyes that climb the walls. “So, this is nice…” he says.
“It’s a dump, actually.”
He instantly smiles and my heart flutters.
Dammit. This is exactly why I didn’t want him in here in the first place. Boxcar might be a damn twerp but he’s an adorable one, too. I’ve always thought so, even when he grated my nerves so much I wanted to shoot him. “Do you want some coffee, or…?”
“I think I’ve had more than enough in the last twelve hours, honestly…”
“A beer, then?” I wander across the room to the kitchen and pull open the refrigerator door to grab two bottles.
“Sure,” he says. I pop the caps off the bottles and slide one over to him. He takes a drink, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. “How’s the shop?”
I bite my inner cheek. Are we really going to do this? The small talk? The quick catch-up? “It’s great,” I lie. “Doing really well, actually.”
He gives me an ambiguous look, like he knows more than he’s letting on, but he says nothing to confirm it. “Good.”
“I’d ask how you’re doing with whatever but I honestly have no idea what you do anymore,” I say, taking a sip from my beer, quickly shifting the attention away from my own failures. “Except for exposing sex scandals in Washington.”
He winces. “You heard about that?”
“I might have.” I smile.
He looks down to hide his embarrassment. “Hey, the old bastard had it coming.”
“I agree. So, is that all you’ve been up to? Punishing horrible men that prey on innocent people?”
“Mostly, I guess. Odd jobs, here and there.”
“You must keep awfully busy then.”
“Well, what can I say? Not all heroes wear camouflage.”
I catch myself from staring too hard through his spectacles and getting drawn into his bright, green eyes. It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how easy it was. “Um…” I blink to break his gaze from mine. “So, Fox. He’s in Japan?”
“Yeah!” he says, jumping at the chance to pick apart someone else’s life. “With Dani — and can we talk about that for a second?”
“I know!” I gasp. “They actually got together!”
He shakes his head with wide, stunned eyes. “Of all the things—”
“That could possibly happen — I know!”
“I never thought for a second they had any chance of ending up together.”
“Neither did I.”
“First, the guy comes back from the dead,” he says, holding up his thumb. “Which was pretty much the weirdest phone call I’ve ever received—”
“He called you?” I ask, leaning forward.
“Yeah.”
“When?”
He looks up, thinking fast. “Uhh… when he got to L.A. he called from the airport.”
My jaw drops. “That fucker told you first?”
Boxcar laughs and takes another drink. “Fox loves me more than you,” he teases.
I try not to react to his laughter and I shake my head at him. “You’re just loving this, aren’t you?”
“A little bit.”
I take a slow sip of my beer. “He came into my shop,” I recall, smiling. “Out of the blue, no warning. Just walked in like everything was normal — like he hadn’t been dead for the last two years.”
“That must have been traumatic,” he chuckles.
“It was. I closed the shop and brought him up here for a hug and a really vague explanation that ended with him borrowing my sniper rifle. It didn’t make much sense until he came back with Dani. Then it all became very clear.”
“If you ask me, I would have preferred the face-to-face ghost encounter,” he says. “Shows a bit more respect to you, in my opinion.”
“I guess that explains why I didn’t get a phone call before you showed up here.”
“More or less.” He takes a breath. “Also, if I had called first, you would have boarded up the windows and doors. I never would have gotten in here at all.”
I laugh. “You’re probably right.”
We stare across the counter at each other in a stiff holding pattern. The calm before the storm.
“So, what’s she like?”
I blink. “Dani?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s really nice, actually,” I answer. “Not at all like I expected of a girl like her.”
He nods. “She seemed cool. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her with the murderous assassin squad taking over our hotel.”
“We’ve gone to dinner a few times since Fox moved out here.”
“Oh, yeah?” he teases. “You’re just hanging out with movie stars now?”
“Sometimes, yeah,” I laugh.
“This city has changed you, Caleb Fawn.” He takes a drink, pouring the rest of it down his throat as he smiles back at me.
“Jealous much?”
“Maybe.”
“Her new movie is really good—”
“Whoa.” He holds up his hand. “He showed it to you?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“That son-of-a-bitch…”
“Oh, come on,” I laugh. “You’re surprised he didn’t send an advanced copy of a big movie to a hacker known for leaking sensitive information?”
He pauses. “Fair enough. Got anymore beer?”
“Of course.” I turn around and jerk the door open, grabbing two more bottles off the shelf. “Although… drinking is probably not what we should be doing right now — considering the fact that there’s not one, but two, assassins after you. Is that right?”
He takes one of the open bottles from me anyway and chugs a thick sip. “Ah, yes. The Hart twins.”
“Who are the Hart twins?”
“Old acquaintances of Fox’s, apparently,” he says. “They aren’t happy their little secret has been blown.”
“Not surprising…” I lean back against the refrigerator door. “How scary we talking here, Box?”
“Well, on a scale of Pee-wee’s Big Adventure to The Exorcist… I’d say it’s about a Suspiria.”
I chuckle. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
He backs up from the counter and gestures into the empty living room. “Speaking of which — where is the famous movie
collection?”
My eyes fall. “Eh… had to dwindle it down a little.” Shame settles in my gut as Boxcar wanders into the corner and peeks into the old box.
“Is this what’s left of it?” he asks, bending down to sift through it.
“Yeah.”
He winces. “You dwindled down a little more than a bit, Cal.”
“Things have been kind of tight lately.” I push off the refrigerator and step lightly into the living room. “You know, we should probably focus on—”
Boxcar stands up quickly and faces me. “How long have you lived here?”
“I don’t know. A while. Why?”
His eyes take in his surroundings a little deeper and my chest clenches. “It doesn’t really look like it,” he notes. “It looks like you just moved in.”
“I’ve been busy,” I say. “Interior decorating hasn’t really been on my list of priorities. Can we please talk about something else? Maybe the deadly assassins on their way here to torture us both?”
“No.”
“No?”
Boxcar steps forward, drawing so close to me I can just barely smell him. My nose erupts, filling my head with old memories I fought long and hard to forget about. “I want to know what’s going on with you.”
I take a step back. “Since when?”
“Caleb, I’m your husband.”
“No—” I shake my head. “Do not throw the H-word around like it means something, Boxcar. That’s not how this is going to work.”
“It does mean something,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve always cared about you—”
“Oh, please—”
“You’re the one that kicked me out, remember?” he argues. “I didn’t just pack up and leave you.”
“You didn’t exactly fight to stay either, did you?”
“Would it have mattered?” he asks, shaking his head. “I highly doubt it would have made a difference to you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Seemed pretty true three days later when I was served with divorce papers, Caleb.”
“Please, Box…” I sigh from exhaustion. “Can we not?”
He shifts on his feet, taking a few steps away from me with his head down. Boxcar has always worn his feelings on his sleeve and right now is no different.
Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance Page 4
