The Nines (The Nines #1)

by Dakota Madison

  I want to tell him that if Alexander finds out I’m the sister of the Back to School Bomber it’s probably not safe for me to go to his house either. He’ll probably want to kill me, or make me suffer the way my brother’s made him suffer.

  And I don’t want Julio and Hector to find out about my past.

  Everything has turned into a complete and total mess. I guess there really is no hiding from your past. It always manages to catch up with you.

  “Please,” Julio practically begs. He’s such a tough guy it breaks my heart to hear him sound so desperate.

  I let out a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll go.”

  “I’ve got the address in my phone,” Hector says. “I’ll map it.”

  Once the address is mapped he glances up at me and gives me a strange look. “You already know where we’re going don’t you?”

  I nod.

  “Am I missing something?” Julio looks back and forth between the two of us.

  “The guy who wears the mask lives at this address,” Hector says. “Roxie made me take her there the other night.”

  Four

  Alexander

  I’m desperate to figure out why Roxie ran out of here so quickly. Things seemed to be going so well and then she was gone. It was almost too fast for me to process.

  I’ve Private Messaged her more times than I’d like to admit, but she hasn’t responded. This worries me. When we chatted online in the student forum she never hesitated to PM me right back.

  Of course it’s possible that she hasn’t been at her computer since she took off.

  I do a search for Roxie Bailey and I’m a little surprised when nothing comes up. That’s unusual. It’s difficult in this day and age to maintain complete anonymity online. There’s usually a bit of information somewhere about a person.

  I think back about our conversation. She didn’t seem to get upset until I told her I was from Seacrest, Massachusetts. Is it possible that she’s from the same small town? We would have gone to high school together, but she’s a few years younger than me. I didn’t know many kids who were younger than me when I was in school, and I never went back to school after the bombing.

  I’m at a dead end of things I can find online legally. I could find out a lot more in some not-so legal ways, but I generally only use my hacking skills on people who are already involved in illegal activities in one way or another. I like to leave innocents out of the picture unless they are some kind of means to an end.

  In this case the ends are only my personal satisfaction. Not exactly justification for hacking.

  But I’m also a little desperate to figure out if I did something wrong. If I did something to upset her I want to figure out a way to make amends so she’ll give me another chance to get to know her better.

  I consider hacking into my old high school’s databases. I could do a quick and easy search for Roxie Bailey, although I suspect Roxie may be short for something.

  I decide to do a search that includes related first names as well. I search in the four classes below mine, since I don’t know her exact date of birth, or if she skipped a grade. She’s probably two years behind me, but I expand the search a bit just in case.

  The search doesn’t take long, but I come up empty. No one with the last name of Bailey was in any of those classes.

  I let my mind wander a few minutes to see if I come up with any other ideas. I scan the recent news and happen upon an article that nearly knocks me out of my seat.

  College Student Attacked and in Critical Condition at a Local Hospital

  The victim is not named, but as I scan through the article certain words jump out at me and hit me like rocks being hurled at my chest: attacked soon after evening classes were dismissed; brutally beaten, a psychology textbook was found on the ground next to the victim covered in her blood; raped and sodomized; multiple perpetrators; in critical condition; the FANGURL t-shirt she had been wearing was wrapped around her neck like a noose.

  FANGURL told me she had night classes. She’s a psychology major. What’s the statistical probability that someone other than the FANGURL I know from the online forum would also have a psychology class last night and be wearing a FANGURL t-shirt?

  Probably not very high. I could run a program to find out, but in the deepest, darkest parts of what’s left of my heart I fear that it’s my online friend.

  Bile rises in my throat as I read the article in its entirety and imagine what those animals did to her. The article makes it sound like the reason she was beaten so badly, basically left for dead, is because she resisted the rapists and fought back.

  What kinds of sick fucks would do something like this to another human being? My mind immediately goes to the Delta Omega Gamma fraternity, home to the sickest of the sick fucks in this city.

  I quickly access the Listserv for Delta Omega Gamma, but no new messages have gone out to the fraternity members. Then I do a search of the fraternity President, Luc Parker’s personal email account.

  There’s an email from Colby Jackson, one of his frat brothers that says: Read Me. When I click open the email it reads: You asked for it, you got it.

  A cryptic message. I’m not sure what it means until I open the attached photos.

  I nearly hurl the contents of my almost empty stomach as I view the photos. My eyes gravitate to the bloody psychology textbook. It’s lying next to a girl beaten so badly she’s unrecognizable. I force myself to look at the rest of the photos. It would be evidence of the crimes if only I could make out their faces. Three guys raping her. Giving thumps up signs in the photos as they brutalize her.

  Are they proud of what they did to this poor girl? What kind of animal would even think about doing something like this, let alone taking photos like it’s some kind of accomplishment?

  I don’t even realize my hands are balled into tight fists until they start to ache. All kinds of thoughts race through my head and they all have a common theme: vengeance.

  First I want to verify that the victim is my online buddy. Not that I don’t want to punish those assholes for what they did to that girl, no matter who she is, but revenge is reserved for those who have hurt me. Hurting one of the few friends I actually have definitely hurts me.

  Anger makes me strong. I’ve been living for the day I can finally exact revenge on Timur Baiev, the Back to School Bomber, the maleficent who stole my life from me. Now I have a new avenue to channel some of my rage.

  A knock on my door takes me out of my own thoughts. Could it be Roxie? I race to the door to find out. When I glance through the peephole I’m surprised to see it’s Roxie, but she’s not alone. She has two guys with her. They’re not tall, but they’re both well-built and very muscular.

  As much as I was hoping she’d come back I’m concerned about the guys. I wouldn’t call them intimidating exactly. I lift weights a lot and I’m much taller than both of them. I could probably take either one of those guys alone, but as a tag team it would be a tough fight.

  I consider not answering the door, but I know it’s futile. I want to talk to Roxie more than I want to maintain my anonymity. I just hope she let the guys she’s with know about my appearance. I’m not sure I can handle any horror-struck faces at the moment.

  When I open the door the first thing I notice is that Roxie looks scared. She wasn’t afraid of me before and I want to know what’s changed. The two guys are doing their best to maintain their composure, but I’ve seen their expressions before. When my so-called high school friends came to visit me after I was released from the hospital and did their best not to show how appalled they were by how I looked. It was a farce, of course, because a normal person can only hide so much of their emotions. The most telling thing was that not one of my friends ever came back for a second visit.

  At least Roxie came back, but I have a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t just to see me. Obviously bringing two guys with her something else is going on.

  “We need your help.” As Roxie’s eyes search mine my h
eart does somersaults in my chest.

  “With what,” I manage to say although my throat has gone completely dry.

  “My roommate is missing.”

  I cock my head and stare at her for a long moment. I never told her anything about what I do or how I make money. Yet she seems to know. Or at least thinks she knows.

  The guys who are standing on either side of her look nervous. And I notice it’s difficult for them to really look at me, their gaze is everywhere but directly at me.

  One of the guys looks like he’s about ready to have a nervous breakdown. He keeps running his fingers through his already disheveled wavy hair and he can barely stand in place he’s got so much nervous energy.

  “Who are they?” I gesture to the two guys.

  Roxie clears her throat. “This is my roommate’s boyfriend, Julio.” She points to the one who is completely freaking out. “And his friend, Hector.”

  I notice Hector bristle a bit when she calls him Julio’s friend. And when he looks in Roxie’s direction it’s obvious he doesn’t just want to be Roxie’s friend. He wants much more.

  And this bothers me much more than it should. A lot more.

  I also notice that Roxie hasn’t looked at Hector once as anything other than an acquaintance, which surprises me because he’s a good looking guy. I have no doubt he gets girls.

  What surprises me even more is that she’s looking at me in a way that suggests that she wants more. There’s a longing in her eyes that I’m not sure is even possible for me to fulfill. But I see fear in those beautiful dark eyes as well. What I can’t tell is if the fear is about her roommate’s disappearance or something more.

  “Why come here? How do you think I can help find your roommate?”

  Hector clears his throat. “You were in my computer security class.” He shuffles uncomfortably for a moment then continues. “I got the impression that you could find people online.”

  I mentally chide myself for not being as careful as I should have been in the classes I took when I first started school. I just got so sick of the attitudes of some of my classmates who thought they knew what they were talking about when it came to hacking, but clearly had no clue. They based their twisted ideas on a few bad movies and internet lore and thought they were experts in the field.

  “If you could find me, why can’t you find her?”

  Hector and Julio glance at each other and then Julio gives a plea. “I’m worried about my girlfriend. It isn’t like her to just disappear. We believe she went to a party with a friend of hers from high school and somehow ended up with those secret fraternity guys.”

  That stops me cold. “Delta Omega Gamma?”

  Julio rakes his hands through his hair again. The poor guy will be bald if he keeps that up. “I’ve heard stories…about what they do to girls.” His voice cracks and I’m afraid he might totally break down. The last thing I want is for some dude I don’t even know to start crying on my front porch, so I open my door wide enough to let the trio in.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I agree despite my better judgment.

  “You will?” A tiny bit of hope seems to return to Julio’s dark eyes.

  “I said I will. Give me as much information as you can about her, but then get out. I work alone.” I point to Roxie. “Not you. You stay. We need to talk.”

  She gulps, but nods.

  Hector doesn’t look happy. His mouth is a thin line and he crosses his arms over his muscular chest. I think he might actually tell me he’s not leaving without Roxie. But when I turn my attention to him and stare into his eyes with every ounce of fury I have, he immediately backs down.

  Luckily Julio jumps in to give me information about Claire. I also ask him to email me any photos he has of her.

  “I’ve got quite a few,” he admits. “Do you want them all?”

  “How many is quite a few?”

  “Hundreds.” He looks a little embarrassed by his confession. Hell, if I had a girlfriend I’d probably want to take a bunch of photos of her too.

  “I don’t need that many. Maybe a few which show different angles of her face. And then a few full body shots. So I’ll be able to run some biometric scans against photo warehouse data.” I give him one of my more difficult to trace email accounts so he can send the photos.

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “That I love her.” His voice is pained and I feel bad for the guy, but I also have a job to do.

  “I got that,” I reply. “Is there anything else that could help me find her?”

  “Should we file a missing person’s report with the police?” Hector adds.

  “You could. But she’s an adult, so they’re not going to investigate it with much fervor unless there are signs of foul play. It’s not against the law for someone to just take off.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Julio insists. “I have a really bad feeling she’s still…with those animals.”

  “You may know that. It doesn’t mean the police will take your feelings very seriously. College kids do crazy things sometimes. They take off. Go on road tips. Lost weekends of partying. I think a cop would probably consider those options first.”

  “Kind of like what Heather was saying,” Roxie adds.

  “Who’s Heather?” I ask.

  “Our Resident Advisor. She didn’t seem too concerned about Claire’s disappearance.”

  “That’s all I need to get started.” When I don’t see either Julio or Hector make any movement to leave I head toward the front door and open it hoping they’ll take the hint.

  Luckily they’re smart guys and can figure it out.

  Just before he’s about to exit Julio runs his fingers through his hair a final time then says, “Please find her.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I assure him.

  Then Hector turns to Roxie and asks, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “She’ll be fine,” I interject.

  He seems a little shaken when I glare at him.

  “I didn’t mean—um…” His voice trails off.

  “You can go.” When Roxie places a hand on Hector’s arm I feel a twinge of jealously rip through me.

  Hector follows Julio out the door and the moment they’re gone I close and lock the door then turn my attention to Roxie.

  “You locked the door.” Her voice is shaky.

  “I did. You’re not running out on me again. I want to know why you left in such a hurry.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you. We need your help.”

  “You think I won’t help you if you tell me.” I can’t imagine anything that she could possibility tell me that would suddenly change my mind about helping find Claire. “If she’s in trouble I’d be a real asshole if I didn’t help. Do you really think I’m that big of a prick?”

  Tears begin to stream down her face and I can feel my heart ache in response. “Please don’t cry.”

  I slowly make a move toward her. I don’t want to scare her, but I can also see she’s in pain. I just want to take the pain from her, at least for a moment.

  As I put my arms around her and pull her close I thoroughly expect her to pull away, but to my utter surprise she doesn’t. She melts into me instead.

  I’m tall and I try to stay as fit as possible, but I feel like a giant next to her. She’s much smaller and more fragile than she initially comes across as. I think her passion and spunky personality make her seem a lot bigger than she actually is.

  As I inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo I enjoy the brief moment of having her in my arms. I know it won’t last—that it can’t last—but I want to make it last for as long as I can. Beauty and the Beast is a fairytale. Gorgeous girls like Roxie don’t fall for hideous monsters like me in real life.

  And if I’m being totally realistic I know there won’t ever be a girl who will want me. I don’t expect to ever date, or fall in love, or get married. I’ve already come to terms with the loss of that part of my life.r />
  But I think that realization makes a moment like this even more special. It’s a rare moment I may never have again.

  And just like that it’s over. Roxie pulls away so that she can blow her nose and wipe her tearstained cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, a bit flustered. “I didn’t mean to break down like that. I’m not usually like this at all.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Now she’s shaking her head even more vigorously. “It’s not okay. It’s really not.”

  “You need to tell me what’s going on. I’m still a little in the dark here.”

  “Can it wait until after we find Claire?”

  I shake my head. “No. This first. Besides I can’t do much until her boyfriend sends the photos.”

  She looks around the living room. “Can we sit down?”

  “Sure.” I make my way over to the couch and take a seat.

  I’m surprised, but also a little thrilled when she sits down right next to me.

  After a moment she takes in a deep breath then lets it out. When she looks at me her eyes seem filled with shame. What could this angel possibly have done for her to look like that?

  “I didn’t think I’d ever be telling this to anyone. I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to. I wanted to leave my past behind me, but it seems to have not only caught up to me to run ahead of me and is waiting for me to catch up with it.”

  I wait for her to continue.

  She brushes at a stray tear that has fallen down her cheek, but doesn’t quite manage to wipe it all away.

  I can’t help but move my hand toward her face and wipe away the tear with my thumb. My hand lingers there a little longer than it should. Her skin is so soft and so unblemished. It’s nearly perfect. As I continue to move my thumb down her cheek and then over her chin she closes her eyes for a brief moment and allows me to touch her face.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whisper so faintly, I don’t think she’ll hear me.

  But when she gives me the faintest of smiles in return I know she’s heard my declaration.

  “You need to stop,” she says finally.