by Wylder Stone
“Son of a bitch.” James hit the elevator button several times, but neither responded.
He ran around the lobby desk and started pecking away at the keyboard. Each brother took a different point around the lobby in a tactical-like motion with their weapons at the ready. Their night had almost cleared without a hitch, but now they had a few dozen kids stuck in their elevators, and the reason, or person, rather, behind it seemed obvious.
“Is it him? Did he get in again?” Jackson asked over James’s shoulder before returning his stare to the grounds around The Elite Building.
“If it is, I don’t know how. I made it pretty near impossible, even jammed the frequencies surrounding the building,” James hollered, his eyes never leaving the screen. “I don’t see him. I don’t see anything.”
Cade and Connor entered the lobby, having received an alert from inside. “Are we locking it down?” Cade asked.
“No, not yet. We can’t see what we’re fighting just yet,” James said over the screen.
“Got a line of parents out there. What do you want me to do?” Connor chimed in. “They’re perfect targets, just sitting there like that.”
James was angry. He was blind to his enemy, and that meant his enemy had the upper hand. “I got it. They’re safe as long as they stay in their cars. He can’t mess with anything within a two-block radius.”
Suddenly, the elevators engaged and began to move, to which James started laughing as he fell into the chair behind him.
“What the hell, man?” Jackson chided, finding nothing about the situation funny.
James continued to laugh. They were far too high-strung. “False alarm! They were just load heavy! Too many kids in the elevators. They must have been jumping around or something and triggered the alarms.”
The elevator doors opened, and kids yelling best party ever poured into the lobby. Among them was a smiling Genevieve from one elevator and a horrified Aaron Markus from the other.
“Don’t forget your swag bags from the table on your way out!” Genevieve shouted over the crowd, earning her a cheer.
“What was that all about?” Connor asked Aaron.
“Those kids, they’re crazy,” he said in a monotone timbre. “They all started jumping and dancing, trying to get their elevator down the shaft faster. They were racing the other group. Racing. How do they not know it doesn’t work that way? We stopped, and they cheered. I didn’t cheer.”
“Let’s get the tyrants out of here, and then we can head upstairs for a beer.” Owen laughed, patting Aaron’s shoulder.
Owen made good on his promise. The team quickly returned the kids to their rightful parents, and everyone moved back to the rooftop. Just adults and beer.
* * *
“Do you think she had a good time?” James trailed Genevieve around the rooftop, holding open a garbage bag while they cleaned up the space.
“I think she did,” Genevieve replied. “But I think getting to go to the dance with you in a fancy new dress is what made her whole day.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, recalling the long list of things to do before the dance rolled around. “She was pretty excited.”
“This is good for her – for both of you.”
“Agreed. It feels good. I know I’m still clinging to insecurities or whatever we want to call them, but it feels good to be me again,” he admitted. “I sound like a girl.”
“No.” She laughed. “You don’t sound like a girl.” Genevieve turned to face him, taking the bag from him and setting it aside. “And you definitely don’t look like one. You sound happy.”
He pulled her close and held her, looking over the city. “I am.”
“I’m glad you’re finally happy.” Her arms were wrapped around his waist as she leaned back.
“The only thing that can make me happier is closing this case. We just need another break, anything. Then we can put all this behind us and really move on.”
21
Genevieve sat on her balcony early the next morning, watching the sunrise over the city with a cup of coffee and a soft blanket. Spring was beautiful in Santa Marina, often bringing cooler, slightly breezy mornings, but that didn’t distract from the beauty the city boasted upon waking with the sun each morning. This morning was different than any other. It felt new, different, more promising.
Despite the odd, threatening circumstance surrounding them, plenty of good was ensuing. After so many years of waiting, hoping, and even praying, things were finally on track for the family she chose to call such. Though she promised her dear friend to look over her family in her absence, should anything ever happen to her, she didn’t know it would lead where it had.
Sure, there had always been something between Genevieve and James, a shared spark of some kind, but she’d always chalked it up to being birds of a feather. They had similar interests, shared a profession, and worked closely together. She hadn’t counted on him being the one to mend her heart any more than she, his. But it happened.
If she were being honest with herself, the fondness for each other wasn’t new, rather several years old. They were each just too stubborn to acknowledge it, and James was too broken to act on it. As was she. They were finally in a good place at the same time.
The walls he’d erected after his wife’s death were quickly disassembling. He was letting go of the guilt that she inspired from their single night together years ago. His heart was finally letting him feel again and letting him move on. That couldn’t be easy for him, but she was happy to see him, the real him, for the first time in a very long time.
Any other woman probably would have left long ago, given the rift between them, but Genevieve had given Hannah her word. She would help them through her loss and make sure Ruby was held up when James couldn’t and vice versa.
When it would normally feel odd to have fallen for a man who was once married to a woman who was more of a sister than a friend, it wasn’t. It was more right than wrong. The only thing wrong with it was that it took them so long to reach the place they were at. But, all things had a purpose, and the things that mattered most were the things we struggled the hardest for.
James and Ruby were worth the struggle.
She loved James and everything that he stood for. She loved his daughter like her own, and even loved the rowdy brothers who were certainly part of the package. The Forces rescued her from a life she wasn’t meant to live, and now she was living a life with all of them. Yet she’d brought something ugly and menacing with her.
Like James, she’d protect what and who she loved too, all of them. She brought trouble to their world, despite what they said. Despite owning the responsibility themselves, she knew this was all her doing. It wasn’t intentional, but her problem nonetheless. She would fix it. It was the least she could do. It had taken her years to rebuild her life, build a family after losing the only one she had, thanks to Watson. Genevieve wasn’t about to let it all go that easily. She’d fight for what she so desperately wanted to hold onto – at all costs – she’d fight.
James had his hands in everything, despite her own high-tech abilities. He’d surely see her messing around through one of the many cyber file safes he had deployed. He was watching everything. They all were. Though her skills weren’t easily matched, when it came to cyber anything, she wasn’t better than James was, equals perhaps, and she didn’t have time to sneak around every layer of security he had in place.
Even if she could find a back door into Watson – or Benson’s – world, it would only be a matter of time before James saw it and intervened. She was more than tech-savvy. Her skills were what landed her with the Force bunch to begin with and in the trouble she faced. She needed to pull her weight, despite James shutting her down every time she tried, and find a way out of the mess she brought to town. And keep those she loved safe.
The idea that Benson was behind this made her stomach sour. How the man who once wanted to spend his life with her became her ultimate enemy was beyond her. What was w
orse was that he took her only family – her mom and sister – from her. Or did he?
Seeing Tasha’s pictures and video of her alive and well left her with a sense of joy that was quickly washed away with the dread that seeing her with Benson induced. Had that been the plan all along? Had Benson used Genevieve? How did her sister play into this, and where was their mom?
Perhaps it was Tasha who was being used. She couldn’t credit her as a threat any more than she could call her a victim. There was just no telling. Benson had pulled the proverbial wool over Genevieve’s eyes in an effortless manner. He was the wolf in sheep’s clothing from where she stood. She couldn’t subscribe to any of it. Was Benson actually Watson? Was Tasha in on it or a victim? Was their mom alive?
Genevieve helped her mom raise her sister even though she had only been a handful of years older. Tasha was a young college student when Genevieve had helped the Forces and the feds take Watson down. Or maybe it was Benson. That still wasn’t clear. There was no way Tasha was involved in the Watson-Benson plan to rip off the world’s richest. Right?
Why did Benson have her now, and where had they been all those years? Tasha didn’t seem to be under duress in the video feed Genevieve had watched over and over. She appeared to be a willing participant. No duress was noted. Her sister wouldn’t be the same person she once was. Too much time had expired, and too much happened. It was very likely that her sister was now going to be one of the world’s most notorious criminals. One of the most wanted, too. Despite the ongoing mystery and endless questions surrounding this case, there was one thing Genevieve was certain of. There was no such thing as coincidences. Life was intentional.
There had to be a way to resolve not only her questions where her sister was concerned but also take down the asshole behind the game ruling their lives, once and for all. How do you contact a ghost – a phantom in the wind who only communicates through shutting down power grids and remotely stealing cars?
As soon as she asked herself the question, the answer became clear as day. Genevieve didn’t have to weave her way through the massive walls of coding and virtual gates of security that enveloped every bit of their world at the moment. Strip away the advanced technological abilities and know-how that each of them possessed, and they were just regular people – hacker card revoked. How do regular people communicate? Email.
James had virtual watchdogs on all of their communications and social media. Those that he knew of, anyway. He wouldn’t have eyes, virtual eyes, on accounts that dated back a decade. Why would he? He probably didn’t even know about those dormant accounts. He was protecting GenevieveH@EFS. He had no idea who hackjam90 was. She’d have to build a little fortress around the email handle, just in case James had a watchdog on that account. It was time to blow the dust bunnies off her past and hope like hell that Watson, Benson, or whoever the hell he was, was paying attention – and James wasn’t.
Genevieve was sitting on a park bench in the park next to the Elite Building as instructed by the email cryptically signed as W. It wasn’t lost on her that the email that caught his attention was the one she sent to her sister’s old email account. That couldn’t be a coincidence, but actually part of the game he was playing. It was also pretty incriminating for Tasha.
It suggested that perhaps Tasha was still a pawn, and he was using her for all her worth, which offered Genevieve some relief. That relief was quickly dampened with the idea that maybe the reason the email came from Tasha’s account was because Tasha was indeed invested in the scheme, or worse, she was the mastermind – Watson. Doubtful, but possible.
Either way, Genevieve wouldn’t let her guard down. She knew better. Her sister had been presumed dead for a number of years and suddenly resurrected in the last handful of weeks. She wasn’t innocent in all of this, not until Genevieve could rule her out as a willing accomplice.
Her phone pinged again, alerting her to a new email – again, from Tasha. It was a video of her sister casually walking down the city street, the backdrop clearly Santa Marina. Emotion rushed over Genevieve. Seeing her alive and well again did more to her than she expected. She recognized the area, so that meant Tasha was nearby. The beach was in the background. It was clearly the Oceanfront District or within the general vicinity.
Genevieve watched and rewatched until she put the landmarks in the background together. She was moving north. If that video was recent, perhaps her sister was still in the area. In the background, she could hear the E-Line, or the Metro Expo Light Rail – Los Angeles’s mass transit line, barreling by, the clinking of the rails undeniable. The eastbound line had just passed by several blocks to Genevieve’s left. Could it be the same line?
Taking to her feet, Genevieve watched the video again, trying to get the possible timing down. Hopeful she would run into her sister and that this wasn’t another trick. Moving north, she stalled when another ping caught her attention. Another video.
The beach was more clear, and it was right behind Tasha. Genevieve had been correct in determining her location. A barge sounded in the background of the video with its loud horn and bell that followed. She had heard that too. She was near the pier, close to the port. The barges always did that over and over again through the oceanfront area to alert boaters and boarders of their routes.
The barge sounded again. This was indeed live. Genevieve picked up her pace, working her way North. She watched all around her, waiting to catch a glimpse of her sister. They had to be only a few blocks apart, only a couple more intersections between them.
Her pace quickened with every thought that she may get to see her sister – alive. A sense of elation filled her – her sister, after all these years. Had she been in Santa Marina all along, and they just hadn’t crossed paths? Santa Marina is a good-sized city, but that big? So big they could have been neighbors and not known it? Her sister was thought to be dead, so it wasn’t like she was looking for traces of her everywhere she went.
Genevieve was two blocks shy of the intersection that the E-Line ran through when a petite blonde came into view, stopping on the corner, waiting to cross. Tasha. She ran toward her sister. She didn’t want to miss her. It was really her.
Genevieve stopped in her tracks when a man in a black hoodie stepped up behind Tasha. The glare of something shiny had her attention. He had a gun. Despite the danger, Genevieve ran toward her sister, reaching the corner across from where she stood.
Traffic was fast-paced, so she couldn’t cross. “Tasha!” she shouted in warning.
When Tasha looked up and finally laid eyes on Genevieve, confusion marked her expression as she squinted her eyes, then widened them in surprise. “G-Genevieve?”
The man in the black hoodie raised the gun to Tasha’s head, his face hidden in the shadows of the hood.
“NO!” Genevieve screamed. Without concern for her own safety, she ran toward the street, toward her sister, when the gun was then turned on her.
Her feet shuffled at the edge of traffic, the gun aimed at her holding her in place. Muffled sounds of horns honking around her didn’t register. All she saw, across two lanes worth of street, was a cold, steely barrel staring her down.
The world stopped. Time stood still as the events that followed happened all around her. It was if she was watching it play out, a bystander at best. The man’s weapon went off. The slow, muffled sound of gunfire cracked – once, twice, three times, maybe more – filling the air as a blunt force struck her to the ground with a hard thud.
Genevieve heard her name called behind her from a man, she thought. It was slow and had a familiar tenor, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man in the hoodie who held her sister. The last thing she saw, across the two lanes of traffic that seemed to halt, was the man’s hood falling, revealing his identity before he grabbed Tasha by the arm and ran with a panic-stricken glare, aimed Genevieve’s way. Benson.
Then she hit the ground with such force the air was knocked from her lungs. She struggled to breathe, but her chest just heaved,
unable to draw in air. Flat on her back, her head turned to the side as she looked for traces of her sister. They were running. Muffled footsteps, running, got louder before finally revealing a flock of men running in the direction of the shooter. Force’s.
Genevieve looked up, trying to center herself as she attempted to get to her knees, air slowly filling her lungs. The E-Line roared by, putting space between Tasha and the Force’s. Seconds felt like minutes but might as well have been hours at that point. When the city light rail finally passed, Tasha was gone. Benson was gone. They’d vanished without a trace.
Though some of the men proceeded to chase, Troy and Derek doubled back toward the Elite Building. They each looked at Genevieve as they slowed briefly but didn’t say a word to her. Hadn’t she been shot?
“You good, brother?” Troy asked, looking past Genevieve as if she weren’t there.
Brother? Confused, she looked down, searching for traces of impact, of being shot, but there were none. Following Troy’s stare, she turned to see James lying on the ground behind her. He’d been the force that knocked her to the ground. Slowly, he rose, hand across his right shoulder. He’d clearly hit the ground just as hard as she had.
James nodded his head at his brothers. “Go!” And they did.
In an attempt to relieve them all of the danger and deal with Watson, she’d only put the very people she was trying to protect in danger. Her plan had backfired because they had come for her. He had come for her. James saved her from bullets that had her name on them. Or maybe they were meant for the Forces so Benson could get to her. Who really knew? What she did know was that her plan failed, and she put those she loved most in harm’s way.
“Are you hurt?” James broke her train of thought. Still disoriented, it took her a minute to wrap her mind around what he was asking. “Vivi, are you hurt?”
He shuffled closer, crawling toward her to check her over.
