To Trick a Hacker: Women of Purgatory 3

by India Kells

  “Are there any threats disguised in your speech, Director, or only resentment of a pencil pusher?” It was Beatrice’s turn to lean back on her chair. The founder of Purgatory wouldn’t be bullied.

  “No threat. Simply facts. On the USB key is information, about each of you, about missions that you did for our government.”

  “What we did, was under demand from said government. What’s your point, Morton?” Owen’s voice dripped with ice, and for the first time, Dylan allowed herself to look at him. Instinctively, his gaze turned to her, and their eyes locked. She wished she could tell him how much she was grateful for his help, for trying to save her, and how much her own heart now belonged to him, but that he had to save himself first. Again, she forced herself to turn her head.

  “My point, is that it would do no good, to any of you, if that information linked to the media. Purgatory would be exposed.”

  Admiral Feander got to his feet. “That would be breaching national security more than anything that Dylan Harris might have done. That would be considered treason.”

  “Exactly, but who would really know where the leak is coming from after all? We seem to be at an impasse. To be honest, I don’t care if the activities and names of all Purgatory agents are given to the public. I need to hand my superior a sacrificial lamb. And this woman here is exactly that. The threat is not for any of you. It’s only for her.” And Morton pushed the USB key in front of Dylan.

  Admiral Feander snarled. “You’re playing with people you underestimate, Morton.” And each of them—Gabrielle, Beatrice, and Owen—got to their feet.

  In turn, with a victorious smile on his face, the director did the same.

  “And you’re trying to protect a criminal. Yield, or be exposed. All of you. Even you, Admiral.”

  Dylan slowly got to her feet too. Agent Smith inched closer, but didn’t touch her. “I need a computer and an hour. You will have your list, Morton, and my surrender.”

  “Dylan, no!” Bea went to step around the table, but Agent Smith blocked her way.

  Morton turned for a second and opened a cupboard, then put a state-of-the-art encrypted computer before her. Without a word, she opened it, and started working.

  “I’m surprised, Miss Harris, that you wouldn’t even negotiate something for yourself.”

  Dylan ignored him and continued typing. He had found the only thing that would make her sacrifice life and freedom. But one thing she was certain, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  Everybody sat back down, silent and remained eerily still as she started unearthing the list. That part would take only a minute. The rest of the hour, she would invest it in another task. Entranced in her very last and most important mission, she tried her best to ignore everything else but the data before her eyes.

  When she was finished, it had taken an hour exactly. And ever so slowly, she closed the laptop in front of her and stood.

  Morton crossed his arms. “So? Where is the list?”

  “As you requested, Director, the list has been sent to its rightful owner.”

  A quick look at his phone made Morton frown. “I haven’t received anything.”

  “Correct, as you’re not the rightful owner.”

  The weasel of the man stood, menace etched on his face. “Don’t you dare play with me! To whom have you sent the list?”

  “The President of the United States. With my sincerest apologies for any grief that I have caused.”

  “What?” The man took a step in her direction, getting redder by the minute.

  On a roll, Dylan couldn’t help but offer him her brightest, most innocent smile. “And as a sign of my good faith, I have dug up all the filth you have done in this service, for every single year of them, including some interesting play of numbers and even evidence of torture. You know me, I have to be thorough. And even better, if the president dares to keep you around, that information will find a way out. Be sure of it.”

  “Bitch.” Morton spit it out like venom. In a movement, he reached for the USB key, but she was quicker and threw it to Owen who crushed it under his boot.

  “Yes, through and through. And even if I have to spend the rest of my life in jail for what I’ve done, I won’t be alone.”

  Footsteps of people came running down the corridor. “It seems that news travels fast around here.”

  The door burst open, and a tactical team came rushing in. They grabbed Morton first, and two men grasped each of her arms in a strong hold. With a sigh, she looked back at her friends.

  Beatrice took a step in her direction, but stopped when Dylan shook her head. Her eyes glided to Gabrielle and James, giving them a wan smile before stopping one last time on Owen. When she spoke, it was for all of them, but she could only look at him.

  “Thank you. For everything. I’ve been blessed to have found you. But now think about yourself. Protect yourself. It’s all that I wish.”

  Owen’s lips moved, but she was pulled back and away from all of them.

  As she walked escorted through the corridors, she felt strangely calm, relieved even, and infinitely sad. Tears blurring her vision, she gave thanks for having the chance of redeeming her wrongs, of finding a man to open up her heart again and made her believe that the past could be put to rest. All of this was over. Dylan Harris, aka Dogberry, was now put to rest.

  Chapter 40

  Blessings were found in infinitely small places. After being put back in her initial cell, Dylan had been moved within the hour to another prison. And then another. And then another. After days, she lost count. But for each of her transfers, each of her new cells, she was alone, and it suited her just fine. She just missed music. The silence at night brought back her nightmares, but when she felt at her most vulnerable, the images of her blond warrior kept them at bay. Kept her sane. Night after night, day after day, Dylan locked her soul up more tight, barely allowing herself to feel anymore. Hope dimmed as she detached herself from reality. She knew it was her own beginning of the end and a part of her was glad to see the curtain fall.

  One day, Dylan was escorted in the inner yard, and as the guard pushed the door, she saw other inmates there. When she looked at the guard, he didn’t look back at her. It wasn’t standard procedure, especially because she had been a cop. Inmates tended to take that like a challenge to be mixed up with her kind. It was a common occurrence that other inmates wounded or even killed ex-cops. Well, maybe her own private hell would come to an end quicker than she anticipated. She wasn’t suicidal, but so tired. Was that the way people felt when they felt the end near? That detachment, that sense of being foreign to this world?

  The sky was overcast, it smelled like rain. And as she expected, as soon as she set foot in the yard, all eyes were on her. Ignoring the other women, she started walking. Round and round she walked. And the more she moved, the more she felt the pack closing in on her. Her pace remained slow, her eyes drawn to the angry clouds swirling faster in the sky. As her eyes lingered, she bumped into someone. Dylan didn’t have the time to lower her eyes before something stabbed her side. Only then did her eyes fell to her side. Blood. Her prisoner’s suit was stained with blood. And it hurt! Head dizzying, she fell to her back. And her last look was at the angry sky, with the thought that blood was nothing, as rain would soon wash it away.

  Blackness took her, and amidst the shadows, there was a glimmer, a golden shimmer taunting its edges. Owen. Even in death, he was there, anchoring her. And even in a hallucination, she was incredibly grateful for his image.

  However, what baffled her was how long the brain stayed active. She’s never been dead before so how would she know? And if it meant she could be with Owen again, if only in dreams, why bother? He was there, she could almost hear him, taste him. She remembered too well the sensation of his hands on her, so warm and strong. His lips that tasted like sin, possessing her with lust and unsuspected gentleness. His voice could calm her down or make her simmer in an instant. But most of all, she would miss his scent�
�when she buried her nose against his heated skin—a mix of soap, musk, and leather she grew to love. To love like she loved him. An honorable, courageous, and smart man whom she fell in love with. Forever.

  For a long time, Dylan let the memories, the sensations, the emotions, all her love take over her. If it was her last spin in this life, she would bring the best with her.

  Images spun for a while, until all she saw was a wall of white.

  All white, an almost blinding glow. And then the glow faded. How strange. Suddenly, the white light came again, the sequence cut with memories of Owen, shifting, before being engulfed by the light.

  What messed with her floating state was that pain mixed with the dream. The pain on her side, where she had been stabbed. And a throbbing pain in her skull, pounding relentlessly before images of Owen made everything stop again. Made everything peaceful again.

  Pain grew, the light became blinding, annoying her to no end. And she was surprised when her eyes opened. Death and opened eyes were supposed to be only seen in horror movies, so unless she had turned into a zombie, she wasn’t dead. Her eyes burned, and it took a moment to adjust. New ceiling. Light blue this time. Dylan forced to turn her head toward the light and saw that the outer wall was all made of glass. The curtains were wide open, offering a breathtaking view of a cerulean sky and the swirling sea.

  And so very slowly, as her head threatened to explode, she shifted her head again, to examine the rest of the room. The decor was simple and elegant, the door was opened, and she was alone. Where was she? Apart from breathing and alive?

  Pushing herself up appeared to be a work in pain and misery. Her side radiated agony, almost as much as her head. And now, nausea made an appearance into the mix. At least she was not in a hospital, she couldn’t have been able to stand it.

  Bit by bit, the last memories of what happened in the jail’s yard came back to mind. The stabbing, the blood. So much blood. I shouldn’t have survived. But she did. What was going on?

  Her vision steadied, and she could gently slide her legs to the side of the bed, putting her feet on the lush, heather blue carpet. Again, a tiny pause was required as the blood flowed more naturally throughout her body. Her toes tingled. As she looked down, she saw she was not dressed with a hospital gown, but a very big T-shirt with the faded symbol of what she supposed was a sports team on front. No underwear. Great! But when she tried to stand, the garment was long enough to cover all the important parts. Lifting the T-shirt, she saw a thick white dressing on her abdomen. Where she had been stabbed. Her body swayed a little as she took a few steps to the window. Second story of a house overlooking the ocean. A house almost all made of glass. And no visible neighbors on each side. Only a long, deserted strand of beach.

  “Where am I?” The door for the balcony was unlocked, her bedroom door wide open. If this was a prison, it wasn’t a tight one.

  Tentatively, she went through the bedroom door and onto the landing. Only what appeared to be the bedrooms were closed in, otherwise, the entire house was opened for her to see. She thought she was alone, but it wasn’t the case when she spotted two bodies intertwined in a passionate kiss at the bottom of the stairs. A golden god and a brunette with crooked glasses.

  A smart remark already in mouth, Dylan didn’t have a chance to use it as she started coughing, forcing her to catch her breath against the sudden pain by leaning on the banister.

  Lance and Luke jumped apart like two teenagers, and looked up at her, frozen for an instant.

  “You’re up!” Luke flew up the stairs as Lance ran out of sight. “How are you feeling?” The young doctor started to paw at her and it immediately got to her nerves.

  “Luke, please stop. I’m okay. Not in my best shape, but I’m not dead. It’s more than I expected. Where am I?”

  “It’s Gabrielle’s house. Well, Gabrielle and Sully now.”

  Beatrice and Gabrielle came running to the bottom of the stairs, before dashing up. Before she could utter a word, she was in Bea’s embrace. The older woman shook a little as she stroked her back. Because she knew, Dylan returned her hug. Beatrice had been there for her, for a very long time, she had saved her once, and she suspected, once more.

  When her boss and friend finally released her, she couldn’t help to notice tears on her cheeks, and didn’t care about her own.

  Gabrielle hugged her quickly and kissed her cheek too. The blonde woman as undone as she was. Someone came running upstairs and once she was free of Gabrielle’s hold, she was in Mac’s. Full circle.

  Dylan cleared her throat, trying to fight the tears. “Okay, I’m so glad to see you, but now I need to sit down.”

  One arm each around Beatrice and Gabrielle, Dylan realized she had pushed herself a bit too much. Returning to the bedroom, Mac rushed to replace the sheet and plump the pillows against the headboard for her. Once settled, the three women sat around her and the sight almost made her laugh.

  “I feel like a queen holding court.”

  Gabrielle winked at her. “It’s only a temporary state until Beatrice here takes her crown back.”

  Mac elbowed the blonde woman and Beatrice shook her head.

  “Ladies, I think that Dylan here is not waiting for jokes but for answers.”

  In a weird sense, Dylan didn’t dislike having them so close around her.

  “First question I have in mind. How could I possibly be here, Bea?”

  Her friend looked at her, a smile tugging at her lips. At this instant, her freckles made her appear youthful and mischievous. “Is that really the first question you want to ask?”

  Dylan closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the question crossed her lips of its own accord. “Where is he?”

  Mac touched her knee. “Owen has been by your side the whole time you’ve been unconscious. Wes and Sully dragged him for a run under the promise of Luke and Lance to watch you like a hawk. Which I guess was a bad idea to leave those two alone without proper supervision.”

  Everybody burst out laughing. Gabrielle shook her head. “I saw it coming, and should have thought better than to keep them together. Then, they become mediocre bodyguards.”

  “I resent that, Gabby.” Lance, full of charm, acted as if he’d been stabbed to the heart before coming into the room. “And you’re making Luke uncomfortable with your teasing.”

  Gabrielle shook her head and Mac smiled at her brother-in-law. “In fact, Lance, I think that Gabrielle’s preparing him for the time when you have the courage to present him officially to the Sorenson clan.”

  Lance shook his head and decided to ignore the teasing. “I just caught the guys on the phone, they’re on their way back. At full speed I guess. I suddenly feel bad for Wes and Sully. On a much more important topic, how are you feeling?”

  “Better physically, as for the lack of answers, I feel very frustrated.”

  And before any of her bedside companions could answer, ruckus came from downstairs; three running Navy SEALs thundering through the entrance, up the stairs, and into her room. And the first, breathless, sweaty, and wonderfully handsome warrior to come through the door was Owen. He stopped so suddenly, Wesley and Sully bumped into him, propelling him into the room in a stumble, his blue eyes she had missed so much, solely on her.

  The run back must have pushed him hard, as he was unable to say a word. Instead, completely ignoring everyone in the room, he knelt on the bed and engulfed her in his embrace. Naturally, her arms came around him, and her nose buried in his chest. His scent was raw from his training, but it was him, and it settled her. It’s when she felt him taking a deep breath, the nose in her hair, that caused tears to blur her vision.

  To her surprise, the misty tears turned into a flooding torrent. And right there, enclosed and protected in Owen’s arms, she broke into so many pieces, she was almost scared of never finding herself again.

  From a distance, she felt the pain in her side, she heard the voice of Owen, trying to reassuring her, over and over again, but the
dam deep down had been destroyed, and there was nothing she could do about it but let it follow its course.

  All the pain she had endured for so long, the loneliness of bearing this burden all alone, all the fears bottled up inside of her came out. It was impossible for her to speak, to tell Owen she was fine, not to worry, to reassure her friends at her bedside.

  So, she let go. Anchored by Owen, holding to him like as if she was about to drown, she poured everything out, and hoped the flood would drown her demons, erase her nightmares, and finally give her peace.