Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance

by Kiss, Tabatha

  “I’m going to take her sarcastic response as full agreement to my original point,” Lilah says. “As much as Dante wants to believe it, we can never live normal lives. I wish it were possible, I do, but…” She shakes her head. “He and Lucy are living on borrowed time.”

  Elijah falls silent and subtle agreement fills his eyes.

  I raise my head up a little higher. “Who are Dante and Lucy?”

  He sighs, firing a hard look at Lilah. “Nice going.”

  “What difference does it make?” I ask. “You’re planning on killing me anyway, right?”

  Lilah snorts with a sour expression. “I don’t kill anyone unless someone pays me to.”

  “Then who’s paying you to kill Fox?”

  They both press their lips together and their eyes lock.

  Elijah hops off the counter and wanders behind it to check the outside security feed. “I think that’s a good place to hit the pause button on this conversation, sis.”

  Lilah shifts on her feet. “Fine.”

  I watch them closely. The slight flair of their nostrils. The low twitch of their brows. The fear hidden deep in their eyes. The answer to my question isn’t a simple as I thought it’d be. There’s someone behind the scenes, yanking at their strings, sliding a pointed finger along their throats to frighten them into keeping quiet.

  Lilah kneels next to my chair and pulls her pack in closer so she can stuff a few slinky dresses inside of it.

  “No,” I say, breaking the awkward silence.

  She looks up at me, preparing to shoot down any judgmental snark I might throw at her. “No, what?”

  “Normal life doesn’t come easy,” I answer. “It sucks, actually. I’ve been here for two years and it’s still a struggle to even get out of bed in the morning.”

  The tension slips from her shoulders. “Would you go back in, if you could?”

  “Not sure. Depends, I suppose.”

  “On what?”

  “Whether or not anyone wanted me around at all.”

  Her face falls a little more but a quick blink brings her attention back to me. “What about your husband?”

  I laugh softly. “If you can even call him that.”

  “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 w
ill 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.

  “We know what we’re doing, Box,” she assures me.

  I nod, losing any drive I have to argue with it but the black tar taking hold of my gut remains.

  ***

  I balance my laptop in the sand and scan the radar for something — anything — that could be a potential threat. Fox lies prone next to me with one eye pressed against his scope.

  “I see two inside,” he mutters into the radio. “They’re sitting at a table — looks like they’re waiting on something.”

  “Copy that,” Rhys whispers back.

  I pick up the b
inoculars and squint through them, flicking on the night vision to get a better view of the black warehouse in the distance. Caleb jumped at the chance to join Rhys, West, and Rogers in surrounding the warehouse and I’ve been a fucking wreck ever since. Even her quippy shut up and stay here wasn’t enough to calm me down. I see her now, her petite figure standing out among the tall, muscled forms of the others. I didn’t hurl before we came out here but I sure as hell might now.

  “Hey, Boxcar.”

  I jolt slightly at Fox’s voice. “What?”

  “Don’t give up.”

  “On what?”

  “On her,” he says, still focusing through his scope.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He peeks out at me for a short moment, his brown eyes calling bullshit. “Take it from me, man. There aren’t a lot things I believe in anymore… but I believe in you guys.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because what’s the fucking point otherwise? The world binds us to certain people. Most are bad, but some are pretty good. I highly doubt the two of you just stumbled on each other out of coincidence but if you did — you can’t waste it.” He pauses. “Not like I did.”

  I stare ahead into the black desert. “You make it sound easy.”

  “Don’t make it difficult. She’ll do that enough for both of you.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  Fox clicks on his radio. “Fall back, Sergeant. They hear you.”

  I raise the binoculars as panic strains my chest. Two blurry figures pass by the warehouse windows from the inside, one larger and balder than the other and my blood runs cold. “It’s them…” I search for Caleb but I’ve lost her. Rhys and West stand around the front side, pressed hard against the wall to avoid detection but I can’t find Caleb or Rogers anywhere. “Where is she?”

  “She went around the back,” Fox answers, readying his radio again. “Caleb, they’re heading in your direction. Get out of sight now—”

  A single bullet fires and my hands jerk so hard, I drop the binoculars.

  “Fox—” Caleb’s voice cuts off and my heart stops.

  “Man down,” Rhys says. “Fitzpatrick, we’re going in. If you get a shot, take it.”