The Ghost and The Hacker (Dark Fire Book 3)

by Ivy M. Jones

  Maybe he was counting on it.

  I shake myself. This isn't why I called.

  "Ah," he says quietly.

  I have no idea what that means so I press on. "I'm calling because I need to know if you've ever had anyone look into your old alias. Anything that would set off any alarms if someone were to do a search now."

  "You mean, if you were to do a search now."

  I'm quiet while I consider how to answer that. "If I were to do a search, would it get flagged?"

  I hear him sigh in the phone. "I was sort of hoping you gave up hacking."

  I close my eyes and drop onto my bed. "You realize you don't get any say in how I live my life, right?"

  "You know, that's something that's been bothering me and I think it's time we settled something between us."

  I'm not used to Confrontational Zach. Being Roger's son, Zach Coffield had a tendency to shy away from confrontation. Bringing attention to himself never ended well at home. Zach Moore apparently has learned to stand up for himself a little more. An inner voice argues that maybe if he'd stood up for himself at seventeen, he wouldn't have ended up hiding for years. I push that argument aside and let it go for now.

  "Okay," I say on a long breath out. "Settle what?"

  "All these years, I was under the impression that you didn't want to see me. According to your dad, you wanted me to let you live your life, which I did. And all these years, you were under the impression that I ditched you without a word. Left you behind.

  Well, neither one of us knew the truth, okay? You're right; I don't get to have any say in your life because I haven't been a part of it. But stop holding that against me. It wouldn't be fair if I held it against you that you never answered that phone call."

  His voice is angry, but I get it. "That's not why I keep telling you that," I explain.

  "Then why?"

  "Because you're the one who keeps saying you can't be a part of my life. You can't say that, then turn around and hand me an apartment filled with furniture in your building so you can keep an eye on me. You can't t-touch me the way you did..." The memory of that afternoon in Cy's guest room makes me stutter. My body knew exactly what to expect in his arms and it haunts me. "You can't kiss me and make love to me and then turn around and tell me I have to leave. Either you accept that our lives are connected again, or you refuse, but you can't have it both ways, Zach. If I decide to do whatever I can to guarantee that your future is free and clear, then you'll just have to deal with the fact that I might be hacking again."

  "Is that what we did?" he asks. I can hear him breathing hard into the phone.

  "What we did? What?" I'm not sure what he's asking me. I expected questions about the furniture claim or maybe something about my hacking, but I don't understand this question at all.

  "We made love?" he asks.

  This shuts me up like nothing else. Every time I get ranting, it seems I let that little bit of info slip out; first to Lucy, now to Zach. But it's out there, so I might as well own it.

  "Didn't we?" I try to sound confident, but I'm sure it sounds more like a mouse is asking the question.

  "Sarah?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Open your door and let me in."

  Oh god, he's here! What the hell is he doing here? Do I let him in?

  "Sarah? Do you want me to knock?"

  I drop my forehead against the door and it makes a thump noise.

  "What are you doing here, Zach?"

  "I was hanging with Cy when you called. I've been standing here talking to your door for most of the conversation."

  Soundproofing here is amazing, I thought briefly. I hadn't even realized he was out there.

  "And what's going to happen if you come in?" I ask, pretty sure I know the answer to that regardless.

  "I'll stop having this conversation with your door and have it with you instead."

  I flip the deadbolt and put my hand on the knob, but I don't turn it.

  "Zach?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Before I open the door, I have to know..."

  Silence. Then, finally, a quiet, "What?"

  "Didn't we make love?"

  More silence and then, "I know I did."

  I open the door to see him staring at the floor. He looks so torn, like someone's destroyed him, and I wonder how much it must have cost him to admit that.

  "I did, too," I admit.

  He swallows, his neck moving roughly. "Sarah, I didn't come here to-"

  "I know," I say, cutting him off. "You're here to keep me safe."

  "Yeah."

  I lean on the door's edge, pushing it open wider. "Then I guess you'd better come in so you can stop having this conversation from the hallway."

  "Where's your room, Sare?"

  I'm not sure where he's going with this, so I just point. He wanders down the hall, poking into the first bedroom, then the second. He sees the laptop in Lucy's room and then the monster truck of a machine in mine and heads into mine.

  I watch as he unplugs the keyboard and tucks into under his arm.

  "You have to be fucking kidding me," I say, my jaw going slack. "I can get another in less than ten minutes."

  "Yep. You can. I'm sure if you wanted to, there's a way for you to plug that laptop into your machine and use that keyboard. But you're not going to."

  "What? Why!?! I'm trying to help you!" I stomp my foot but the thud is softened so much by the super-plush carpeting, there's no real noise, no real impact. I want to stomp harder but even I know that would just seem childish, so I cross my arms over my chest instead.

  So much less childish.

  "Sarah, I can't let you do this. I may have completely fucked up with the apartment, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you do something stupid." He lifts a knee and cracks the keyboard in half over it.

  The loss of the keyboard barely registers. It was the cheapest component I bought. I could get another one for fifteen bucks. But the snap of plastic is like a siren in my head. I can't help but react.

  I shove Zach, hard, and he stumbles backward but doesn't fall.

  "You don't get to decide, asshole!"

  "Sarah, Jesus! Calm down. Look, I'll buy you a new keyboard, okay? I never thought you'd beat me up for trying to help!" He's yelling now, too, and I'm actually grateful for those acoustics that kept me from hearing him in the hallway. That same soundproofing will keep the neighbors from calling the cops over the hell I'm about to unleash.

  "It's not about a fucking keyboard, Zach! It's about you. You think just because you disappeared that I suddenly wasn't in love with you anymore? Of course not. You broke my heart, asshole, and now you're back and you're breaking it again!"

  I pound out of the bedroom, ripping the broken keyboard from his arms on my way by. I carry it to the kitchen and slam it into the under-sink trashcan. A single wire holds the two parts together and only half of the keyboard lands in the trash can; the other half dangles, bonking against the rubber can until I slam the cabinet door closed.

  When I turn around, Zach is right behind me.

  "You keep saying things that make me think you're still in love with me, Sarah." His voice is quiet, his fingers moving like he has an itch he's trying not to scratch.

  "Are you dense?" I cross my arms over my chest again. He just looks at me with one brow raised the tiniest bit. "Yes. Despite everything that happened, despite years of looking for you and failing, wondering if you were dead... Despite finding you again and having you basically tell me we can't be together... Despite all of that, yes! I never stopped loving you, Zach!" I scream. There are tears in my eyes and I can't seem to stop my mouth.

  "But I'll get over it now that I know you don't want me around. After all, that's what you keep telling me right? That you want me to stay away so I'm safe? Well, fine. I'll be so safe, you won't even know I'm here. Forget helping you out. Forget trying to make sure you're safe. Forget making sure Dark Fire doesn't go down in flames. If it takes me another ten years,
I WILL get over you. So there you go. You're free. Now GET OUT!"

  I sprint to the door to open it, but I only have it opened inches when Zach's hand slams it closed beside my head. His other hand grips my ponytail and twists me around. I'm pinned to the door by his hand in my hair, staring into his eyes.

  "I never stopped loving you, either." His mouth is on mine, too slowly, too soft after such an intense shouting match. His lips move lazily over mine, all the time in the world, making me crazy. He nips at my lips with light teeth but doesn't push forward.

  My body is bursting with adrenaline. I can feel my heart thumping wildly and I wonder if he can feel it, too. But it's not beating like it's trying to escape because we were fighting. No, it's a symptom of a much worse problem. The moment his hand wound into the strands of my hair, my body betrayed me. I'm weak with desire.

  I need him, despite wanting to hate him.

  My sweaty palms, pressed flat against the door, are probably leaving hot prints on the vinyl. But I don't know what to do with them. If I push him away, I'm telling him that I don't want this. If I pull him closer, I'm admitting that I need him more than I want to hate him.

  So I just let him kiss me, keeping my palms flat against the door while I press my mouth against his. I'm leaning closer to him now and him to me. I can feel how much he wants me and the knowing has me achy and damp. I twist my pelvis against his to get closer; I need to assuage that ache and moving against him turns the ache into a full roar of body tightening lust. I worry that I'm putting nail marks into the door behind me.

  His hand drops from my hair and joins its twin, coasting up and over my hips, up to my breasts to cup them from the side. He can't get his hands all the way around the flesh there- our bodies press too tightly together.

  "More, Sarah," he begs between kisses. Then his tongue is in my mouth and his thigh presses between mine, splitting my legs and pinning me to the door once again.

  His hands grip the hem of my shirt and he tries to pull it over my head. It catches on my chin because he didn't unbuckle the decorative buckle at the neck; it won't fit over my head. Instead of pulling it back down to try again, he leaves it pulled over my head, everything from my chin up covered in red ribbed cotton.

  I can't see, but I feel his mouth run down the side of my neck and it sends shivers down my body. His mouth continues down until his lips snag the upper edge of my bra cup. Intuition tells me that he's using his teeth to pull the cup down further, baring my nipple. His hands pull my bra down completely, ripping it under one arm. It goes slack and loose around me, then I feel him pull it completely free and it falls away.

  My hands twitch against the door now. I can't remember why I have them there and not all over his body, especially when he uses one hand to tilt my breast to his mouth and the other to massage and play with the nipple on the other. My hands go to where I know his head is, spreading into his hair to hold him in place. When he shifts to the other side, switching his mouth and hands, I barely give him enough space to move.

  My blind hands move to his shirt, twisting it in my fists, pulling it free from his body. He only moves his body enough for me to get his shirt off, immediately coming back to my breasts once the shirt is off. My hands take in his naked torso, the balls of his shoulders, the light dusting of hair over his chest, the tight muscles of his pecs... I keep going, gripping the muscles of his biceps with desperate fingers.

  My body knows his, even if my eyes are covered.

  And he still remembers my body, too. The time passed since we learned each other all those years ago rewinds for us both. It's been three days since the last time we touched, and nearly ten years before that, but it's automatic. We just remember how to touch each other. We just know. Everything he does makes me weak and strong, filled with desire but hollow and needy. I'm dichotomous, torn to pieces while he uses his hands to pull at the button on my dress slacks.

  I want to help him, but I would have to stop working on the buttons of his jeans to do that. Now that I've gotten my hands into the waistband of his underwear and wrapped my fingers around his hot length, there's no way I'm moving, even if the door behind me were to catch on fire. I stroke that hot flesh, my heart still beating wildly, and I let every sensory feeling assault me at once.

  His fingers pressing into my skin, his grip hot and deep into the flesh of my breasts.

  His lips and tongue pulling and flattening my nipple. The rough abrasion of his tongue as he rubs against the peak in his mouth.

  His hips, jeans at his knees as he tilts into my hands, the movement so obviously suggestive of sex, my knees shake. His thighs hit mine with every forward press into my tight fist.

  His hot, hard length in my hand, his skin smooth as he rocks into the channel I've given him. He's so turned on that he's starting to slide in his own pre-cum. I slide my thumb over the spongy head of him, bringing more of his desire into my clasped fist.

  I feel the cool stability of the door behind me and hear the sound of a key in the lock.

  "Shit! Lucy's home."

  I still can't see, but I hear him and feel him. He leans down and pulls his pants up. He guides my hand to hold up my pants and then his hand wraps around my free wrist and he leads me down the hall. The bedroom door closes and I'm tossed onto the mattress, still blind.

  "Sarah? Are you here? The front door was unlocked," Lucy calls.

  "I'm here. Can't talk right now," I yell back. My voice is muffled by the shirt still pulled over my mouth, but I pray she just writes it off as something harmless. Zach's hands pull my slacks down and off and I have to muffle a shout of surprise.

  "Are you sick? Fuck it, if you're sick, I need you to stay away from me, okay? I have a date tomorrow night with Teddy."

  My panties are probably on the floor somewhere now.

  "Okay. No problem," I squawk. How I manage to even speak, I don't know. Zach has his fingers in my pussy, fucking me and playing with my clit while his other hand moves the hem of my poor, battered shirt enough that he can make a hole for my face and find my mouth with his.

  He's barely been touching me a full minute when I come loudly, my cries swallowed by his kiss. My legs whip around on the bed between us. My hands grip huge chunks of his hair, holding him to me while I scream into his mouth.

  Then his fingers are gone, and in their place, I feel the nudging, broad head of his cock trying to slip inside. My hips tilt, lining him up, and he thrusts deep, his mouth still muffling the sound as I whimper and moan at the thick, stretching press of him inside.

  I'm so far gone, and he feels so good. I can only meet each thrust of his hips as he moves. Can only whimper as I get closer and closer to the edge. I just came, but I'm already as tight as a wound spring, ready to snap. My hands hold onto Zach's shoulders like a lifeline as he drives into me. The top of my head hits the headboard and I realize we've been making our way up the bed, he's fucking me so hard.

  Then... I'm there. Falling over that edge, and this time it's his hand that muffles the sound. He's too busy gulping in deep lungfuls of air as he comes himself, his neck and shoulders tense, face aimed at the wall behind the headboard, his features pulled tight, his teeth grinding.

  I feel heat wash me from the inside and wonder if I've just gushed like crazy in reaction to seeing such a magnificent sight. Watching Zach come that hard will be one of the highlights of the rest of my life.

  He finally relaxes, but his body still moves in little bumps against mine. The bumps make me twitch. I'm so sensitive now, every little flex and shiver makes me roll through another aftershock. He drops down beside me and pulls me to him. He moves to kiss me but my shirt is in the way and he finally takes the time to reach inside and unclasp the buckle at my neck.

  The shirt goes flying and when he lets it go, his semi-hard cock slips from inside me.

  "Oh my god," he whispers.

  "What?" The look on his face has me freaking out.

  "We didn't... I mean I didn't..."

  He's star
ing down at my pussy and I look down. I don't see anything unusual, so I follow his eyes. He's not looking at my naughty parts, he's looking at his. He looks gorgeous to me, even half-hard. All soft and hard at the same time, with the head still an angry-looking dark maroon.

  And then I get what he's saying.

  There's no condom.

  We just had unprotected sex.

  I want to reassure him, but I'm not on the pill or anything. So I do the math.

  "It's probably not the right time..." I start. I pull out both sets of fingers and start doing the math the long way to be sure. "I mean, it's really not the exact right time..."

  "Kill me now, Sarah. I'm just going to keep fucking this up." He rolls into the pillow at his side and acts like he's smothering himself.

  I jump up and run into the bathroom to clean myself up the best I can. "Don't kill yourself while I'm gone, Zach."

  When I get back, he's pulling his jeans up.

  "You're leaving?"

  "The more I try to make things better, the more I fuck things up, Sarah."

  "And the more you push me away, the more you break my heart. You're staying because if you don't, I won't forgive you." I don't want to pull out the big guns, but he looks so forlorn, so lost, that I know I'm losing him fast.

  "I might be pregnant, Zach. You walk out that door and you'll never know one way or the other. You think you did a good job disappearing? Try to find me. I know how to delete my life from the internet. You became a new person, but I won't exist anymore. No amount of money in the world will be able to find me."

  His eyes go wide and I watch him work out what I'm threatening him with.

  "You're blackmailing me with my kid- a kid who might not even exist?"

  "I'm reminding you that you just told me you love me. I'm reminding you that I love you. I'm telling you that if I'm a mom now, that takes precedence over making sure my baby daddy's ego doesn't take a hit, because guess what, Pops? We all fuck up sometimes. You think you're on a roll? See what happens when you walk out that door."

  I pull an oversized sleep shirt from a drawer and drop it over my head. I see my panties on the floor and scoop them up. There's a wet spot from how turned on I was, but I still pull them up my legs. I drop into the desk chair and turn it so I'm facing Zach on the bed.