by Palmer Jones
“We’ll see, Trevor.”
He groaned. “Wake up, four eyes. It’s not just this time. The guy acts like you belong to him. He tells you what to eat, what to wear. You didn’t use to be like this. I mean, you changed right after college. I miss my sister. You used to be such a goofball. Nose stuck in a book or pressed flat against your computer screen.”
“I would declare that I’m still a goofball, but I’m not sure I like that exact title. But you can lay off asking Cam for information. Oh, sorry, Cameron. I was told he doesn’t go by Cam any longer.”
“What do you mean information?”
“He did a background check on Brian for you.”
“I didn’t ask him to do that. But now that you mentioned it, I’ll probably call him up for some extra fighting power. Any dirt will help. Cameron doesn’t play dirty anymore.” She could hear the smile in his voice when he added, “I still do.”
She’d let him handle Brian. All she wanted was to go back to California and continue with her life. Without Brian.
“How close are you and Cameron, Trev?”
After a slight pause, he sighed. “We’ve kept in touch off and on. Met up a couple times over the years. Emailed some. Why are you asking?”
“No reason. I’ve just never heard you talk about him.”
“Is he being nice?”
“Do you expect him not to be?” So, grumpy Cameron wasn’t unusual.
“Cameron can be a little rough around the edges. Ever since he and his fiancé broke it off, he’s been different. Very focused on his career. Doesn’t joke as much.”
“Tell me about it.” Addie pushed away from the sympathy she felt for him. “Don’t worry, he’s dating someone named Lacy now.”
“Lacy? Oh, I hadn’t heard. Must be pretty new. Last time we talked, I was more interested in getting you out of prison. Hey, four eyes, Grayson just showed up for this meeting. The producers for his next film are making all kinds of strange requirements, and I’m about to start negotiations. His manager is complaining about her percentages, so I’m flying solo.” He chuckled. “You know how demanding my A-list star is.”
“Grayson is not demanding. Tell him I said ‘hi’. He better be with us next year for Christmas. Santa might bring him something nice.”
“He’s a grown man.”
“Santa might bring you something, too, if you’re good.”
Trevor laughed. “That’s more like it. I’ll pass the message along.”
“Oh, do you mind sending me my new credit card numbers? Or buying a computer and shipping—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Trevor.” She whined his name, the same ways she did when she was little, and he wouldn’t let her play with him. “I need to get on a computer, and I can’t do that with the Dempsey’s computer.” He might not know everything she did, but he knew enough.
“Tough luck. Relax while you’re there. The break will be good for you. I love you, four eyes.”
She sighed. “Love ya.” Ending the call, she reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her purple nail polish to apply a second coat. Grayson Moore was one of the biggest movie stars in the world, and Trevor was his agent and manager when Grayson and his real manager were fighting. She’d known Grayson for the past five years and had invited him to Christmas each year. He always declined, choosing to jet off to some remote location alone instead.
That was another reason she didn’t get to see her brother as much as she wanted. Brian hated that Trevor refused to represent him and score him some major television or movie roles. She’s always acted dumb on the subject, promising to talk to Trevor on his behalf.
She never did ask Trevor for the favor, but that was really for Brian’s own good. She didn’t trust Trevor to be unbiased when it came to her boyfriend.
She blew on her nails. Nothing said professional computer hacker like a color named Purple People Eater she’d picked up at the drugstore when she realized that mani/pedi might never happen. The emergency cash she’d packed would have to last her until the end of next week.
Lazy house guest sounded like a better title at the moment than computer hacker. She needed a computer and access to the internet, and there was no way the public library would give her enough privacy to do what she needed to do.
Everyone expected her to surf the web for designer shoes, not type lines and lines of commands. Regular computers didn’t work for her. If she couldn’t configure a few safety features, any job she did could be traced, and her location revealed. She dealt with the scum of the earth and could place all of Statem in potential danger if one of her subjects came calling.
Addie yawned and screwed the top on the nail polish. It was close to two in the afternoon. She’d hung out with Mrs. Dempsey most of the morning until she’d decided to text her brother to give her a call and discuss her pending charges. The entire situation didn’t give her too much anxiety since she knew she was innocent. She needed Brian to answer his dumb phone and straighten it out so she could get on with her life. Without him, preferably. It was time to get out from under his controlling nature. She’d considered it before, but each time, she went back. It was easier that way.
She bounced off the bed, remembering Mrs. Dempsey’s permission to make coffee any time of the day. Coffee solved everything. It would pick up her mood, and then, she could come up with another plan to get a computer. Or escape her plush prison. If some of those cinnamon rolls were still out on the counter, she’d come up with another plan on how to not gain fifty pounds in the two weeks living with Mrs. Dempsey.
Cameron was right. She was a great cook. Statem didn’t have a gym, but if Addie never had to work as a hacker again for White Rabbit, she wouldn’t have a reason to worry about how she looked for a cover story. She could gain fifty pounds, and instead of Hollywood as her alias, she’d call herself Häagen-Dazs.
She peeked around the corner to the kitchen. Empty.
The coffee maker had to be at least thirty years old and took Addie, with a degree in computer science, a solid ten minutes to figure out. She pushed her glasses up on her nose as the machine gurgled and the smell filled the kitchen. The age of it didn’t seem to matter, though, because the cup she poured from the glass coffee pot tasted perfect. Right along with the dollar store brand creamer Mrs. Dempsey used.
She leaned against the kitchen sink, looking out over the backyard, taking a sip. No computer. No boyfriend. No job. That’s what the future looked like. She had to find a way to connect to White Rabbit. To let Miss Alice, her no-nonsense boss, know when she’d be able to take another job. Without Brian’s financial support, she would need the income. She had plenty of savings, a lot actually, but she liked earning money. Having a job like hers gave her purpose.
Mrs. Dempsey said they had a computer in the house. There was an outside chance that it wouldn’t take too much work to get it up to snuff. She could install a few additional safeguards. A new firewall. If they kept the computer in an inconspicuous place, she could use it at night when everyone else slept.
Not to hack. She’d have to rebuild the security system to do that. But she had to contact Miss Alice. Now, she needed a cover story to gain access to their computer without drawing any suspicion. Some days she hated that her life was full of so many lies.
The lies helped keep people safe, including herself. And the job paid very well, but she didn’t do it strictly for the money. She accepted the money because it made the risk worthwhile. Her reward came from knowing she helped society in her own way. The information she passed on to Miss Alice helped rat out the evil in the world. To date, she helped put seventeen criminals away. Crimes ranging from sex trafficking to drugs. She’d also exposed several crooked politicians. The small lies to innocent people like Ms. Tanya were worth it.
The door opened, and Cameron stepped into the kitchen. The permanent scowl in its proper place looked a little more severe today. Not many men could rock the angsty-look and come across that sexy. It was
like the Wolverine and Edward Cullen rolled into one. Perfectly Cameron.
Addie smiled as wide as she could and tried to have a happy tone of voice. “Hi ya, Deputy.”
He paused, a wariness clouded over his face before he bobbed his head like a teenage girl. “Hi ya, Addie,” he mimicked.
Ugh, she wanted to tell him off.
His gaze ran down to her feet and back up again. He motioned up and down her body. “This isn’t your typical look.”
She tugged at the hem of her long tee shirt. Every jokingly harsh comment from Brian swirled through her mind.
His humorless cloud disappeared long enough to see the first flicker of interest in his eyes. She wasn’t even wearing lipstick. Or shoes. Black exercise pants and a tee shirt. How long had she dreamed of him looking at her as something other than Trevor’s little sister?
“I like your glasses. They look like the ones you used to wear the last time I saw you.”
She snatched them off her face, embarrassed she’d forgotten about them. “You’re a real comic, Cameron.”
His eyebrows drew together, and he stopped advancing. “I wasn’t joking.”
She shrugged a shoulder, completely insecure but hoping it came across as indifference. “Whatever. I’m headed back to my room.”
He made a big show of sweeping an arm toward the hallway, that cold shoulder she’d grown accustomed to back in place. “I’m sure you have a tough schedule ahead of you, picking out nail polish and washing your hair.”
She took a steadying breath. Last month, she’d infiltrated a diplomat’s private email account, uncovering not only two illicit affairs with women within his own office, but the smuggling of goods for resale on the black market.
But, of course, all she did was wash her hair. Jerk. “I do other things.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a drink, looking far too smug at his incorrect assessment of her. His eyes dropped to her freshly painted toes. “Like what?”
A switch flipped in her brain despite her ratty clothes and lack of makeup, pulling the cloak of her artificial personality around her before his words cut too deep. Those assumptions hurt worse coming from Cameron than they did from Brian.
Two slow steps brought them together. She had his full attention.
Her heart rate spiked. That didn’t happen with other men. That never happened with Brian.
She wrapped both hands around the mug he held, around his own hand, bringing the rim to her lips, taking a sip of the black coffee.
The shield between them dropped away. The sexual energy amplified as his gaze burned straight to the pit of her stomach. Her fingers lingered, brushing along the back of his hand, down his wrist before falling to her side.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she paused at the breathless sound of her voice until she had it under control. “I need to wash my hair.”
She turned and walked to the hallway, well aware that she was walking away from the one man that switched her sex drive from autopilot into hyperdrive. One man. No one else since him, in the past fifteen years, had come close.
The slam of the mug on the counter made her jump, but she kept walking.
“You don’t even live in the real world, do you? Do you have any idea how serious the charges are against you? You can’t flirt your way out of this situation like you do with the rest of your life.”
Annoyed at her lack of control over her own body’s response, she held up her hand and flicked him off as she left the room.
The man infuriated her. She closed the bedroom door gently, keeping her frustration inside and not letting him know more than her inappropriate hand gesture had given away. But the last thing she wanted to do was discuss Cameron’s idiot comments with his mother and rattling the house with a slamming door would surely raise a few eyebrows. Although, based on what she could tell of Mrs. Dempsey, she might actually agree. He’d probably run Jennifer off with his negativity.
Damn it! She’d left her coffee in the kitchen.
Addie would find Mrs. Dempsey, as soon as she was sure Cameron had disappeared under his rock again, and she’d beg to access their computer. The most she could hope for is that the operating system wasn’t more than a couple of years old. With the things she had to do to gain access into the secure server for White Rabbit, Addie might as well send a telegram by pigeon if the computer was any older.
At the sound of the back door closing, much harder than necessary, Addie peeked out into the hallway. Mrs. Dempsey walked out of the kitchen.
“He’s gone.” Mrs. Dempsey laughed and motioned her out of the room. “I meant to show you something yesterday.” Addie followed her down the hallway and into a part of the house she’d not been before. “I don’t know what my son said to you or you to my son, but I’ve never seen two people more determined to avoid one another. He grabbed a plate of leftovers for a late lunch and took it to go. Without heating it up. What happened?”
Probably shouldn’t tell her that she’d stopped barely a second shy of dragging her son back to her bedroom.
“Nevermind. I can only imagine based on his attitude when he left. He’s had a tough go of it the past year or two, but I promise he is a nice guy. I’m sure you’ve heard about the break-ins in town? His dad has let him take over the investigation completely.”
“Right. The case.” Had she misread the look in his eyes?
“I think he sees it as a way to prove to the town that he can do this job.”
“Do what job?”
“Become Sheriff. He’s going to run when his dad retires.”
“Oh.” Cameron’s work stress didn’t excuse him for being rude, but that was the second person that seemed to forgive him for acting that way. She wished she could justify his attitude as quickly. The fifteen-year-old inside of her still held on tight to the image that he was perfect. He’d managed to absolutely crush that fantasy in the past few days.
Too bad she had another three or four dozen fantasies that he starred in that would take a little more effort to snuff out.
They stepped into a laundry room. “I figured, since you’re here for a little bit, you might need to wash your clothes. Feel free to use anything you need.”
She took a deep breath. “Can I use your computer?”
Mrs. Dempsey began changing the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. She pressed the button on the dryer, and the rumble of clothes started.
“Absolutely. I turned it on after that day at the library. It works. I’ll show you where it is. We haven’t used it in about six months. My husband bought me a tablet for my birthday last year, and I haven’t needed the computer since. I never even think about it, to tell you the truth. You could have used it all along to check your email.”
“When did you get the computer?” Did that sound too pointed of a question? She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, but the more information about the computer she had before she got into the guts of it, the easier it would be.
“About two years ago, I think.”
That might not be bad, then. She smiled at Mrs. Dempsey. “I’d love some time on there.”
“Of course, it was my mother’s computer before she passed away. She might have gotten it a couple years before that. She loved to play solitaire.”
Maybe not. “Can I see it?” No way to tell if she could make it work until she got in there and poked around.
Mrs. Dempsey led her into an office to the left of the dining room. The computer sat in the corner. A layer of dust would have complimented the relic, but the Dempseys had better housekeeping skills than that.
“Is there a password to log on?”
“No. And it should be hooked up to the internet.”
Taking the chance of sounding too smart, Addie said, “I might have to download a program or two. If it needs updating, that is. Is that okay?”
“I really never use this thing, darling. Download whatever you need.” She patted Addie’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it
. By the way, I’m making meatloaf tonight. I guessed by the egg whites you ate this morning, that you’re completely off your vegan diet?”
“Yes. Definitely.” She wouldn’t miss another one of Mrs. Dempsey’s fabulous meals. Brian could take his vegan diet with him when they finally broke up.
“Head to the kitchen around five. You can learn how to make it.”
Addie swallowed. “You want me to cook?” Meat. In a loaf. She’d heard of it before, but how did that work? Like in an actual loaf of bread?
“Anyone can make meatloaf.” Mrs. Dempsey left the room, leaving Addie with the feeling of dread. For the computer and her horrible cooking skills.
Alone in the office, she sat down in the small, black computer chair. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” The computer booted up and immediately started an update.
Thirty minutes later, Addie had updated every program or eliminated a few of the out-of-the-box ones that no one ever used to free up space. It still didn’t operate the way she needed it to so she could install the applications to reroute her IP Address.
The OS was three versions old. She logged into the manufacturer's website and used her personal login to purchase an entirely new system, customizing the installation to maximize memory. A couple hundred dollars charged to her secret account, the one bank account she didn’t have to cancel the debit card on since she never carried it with her, didn’t matter when she’d lose out making hundreds of thousands if Miss Alice kicked her out of the group. It was also one that had the information saved so she couldn’t buy a new computer from another online store.
If Mrs. Dempsey hadn’t used the computer in that long, she wouldn’t notice how many changes Addie made. Besides, there wasn’t anything she did to Mrs. Dempsey’s computer that she couldn’t undo. She’d wipe it clean before she left. Eliminate all traces that she’d even been in Statem if possible. It’d keep them safe.
“Addie?” Mrs. Dempsey called from the kitchen.
Five already. Maybe she’d get to work on it tonight after everyone else went to sleep. Right now, she had a harder task than reprogramming an entire operating system. She had to cook meatloaf.
