Game of Lies

by Amanda K. Byrne

  Surprise flashes across his face, and he looks away, focusing on my half-eaten dinner. “We need some to-go boxes.”

  Chapter 10

  The texts turned out to be an app emergency. Constantine ran a last-minute test, downloading it to his personal tablet, and it failed to install properly.

  Curled into a corner of the black leather couch, I watch Nick and Constantine argue over how far back to go to search for the problem. “It’s not in the code,” Nick insists. “The section damaged by the virus has been checked four times by four different people. If there were something wrong, it would have been caught by now.”

  “Those four different people weren’t either of us, and the section was originally re-written by Caleb Turner, who had no knowledge of what the app was supposed to do. It needs to be checked. It’s the only reason it’s not installing correctly.” Constantine pushes a hand through his hair, the short, dark strands standing on end.

  “In order for him to restore the code, he would have needed basic knowledge of how the app functions,” Nick points out. “Have you looked at the code yet to know that’s the problem?”

  “Hey.” Both men turn toward me. “Have you checked the server it’s stored on?” I arch a brow as Constantine scowls at me. “I’m not saying my father was a perfect coder and there’s no way he would have made a mistake. But what if there’s a server error that’s not allowing the executable file to download correctly, and you’re just not getting an error message?”

  Nick holds up a hand to silence Constantine before he can speak. “We’ll do both. The server check is quick enough. Move it to a different server and try downloading again.”

  Constantine straightens. “Not as fast as you’d like. It was on that server because it’s the only one that has any room. The others are too full.” He picks up his tablet and heads for the door. “I’ll see if we have anything that can be moved or dumped. Half hour, minimum.” The door shuts behind him with a decisive click, and Nick slouches in his chair, letting out a hiss of pain in the process.

  “Maybe sitting behind your desk isn’t the best idea right now.” I point to the unopened laptop sitting on his desk. “Can you do everything you need on that?”

  “Most of it.”

  I get up from the couch. “Come over here and use the couch then.”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll be all right. You mind reheating my leftovers for me?”

  I take both our half-finished dinners into the break room, dump them onto paper plates, and stick them into the microwave. Bracing my elbows on the counter, I drop my head into my hands and shut my eyes, willing the lingering tightness to dissipate.

  “Has he been working? Or is he too busy playing house with you?”

  I snap my head up and around. My gaze lands on Constantine. “You know, if you want to blame me for something bad that’s happened to Nick or your family, you’re going to need to get in line.” The skin between my shoulder blades is itchy. “But to answer your question, yes, he’s been working. He also just got shot in the leg. No, I don’t need you to remind me it happened because of me. That point’s been hammered home.” The microwave dings. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to say, or can I take Nick his dinner?”

  Constantine’s mouth twitches, his lips finally shifting into a small grin. “Sorry, Cass. Just need this to go well, and I tend to take out my frustrations on everyone around me. Thank you,” he adds, “for answering my question. How’s his leg been?”

  “Bothering him, though he won’t say much about it.” I open drawers, searching for silverware. “Do you have forks somewhere?”

  “Second drawer from the left. Should be some plastic stuff in there. Going to check the server.” He leaves, and I carry the plates to Nick’s office. The door rattles in the frame when I bump it shut with my hip.

  “Thanks,” he mutters absently, eyes glued to his monitor. I peer over his shoulder. Lines of code crawl across the screen, his cursor moving along at a rapid clip. Rather than interrupt him, I retreat with my plate to the couch to finish my meal.

  Half an hour later, my empty plate’s on the floor and I’ve about drained my phone’s battery. Nick’s mumbling to himself. Contrary to his previous statement, Constantine hasn’t returned. Nerves flash and die under my skin, and I can’t stop my hands from trembling. I need to get up, move around, find something else to occupy my brain.

  I get to my feet, pick up my plate, and step over to the desk to retrieve Nick’s. A quick stop in the break room to dispose of the trash, and I’ll take out some of my anxiety on the stairwell. Hiking up and down it a couple of times should dispel the nervous energy.

  Nick looks up. “Can we test the app on your phone? There’s enough room on the second server, so once we move the file, we can try the download again.”

  “Do you have a charger? My phone’s going to die in a second.” On cue, it emits the beep signifying shut down. “Make that dead.”

  He drags a hand down his face. “I’ve got an iPhone. You’re android, right?” I nod, and he slouches in his chair. “I don’t have one that’ll work. Check with Con. He might. Bring him back with you while you’re at it. It doesn’t take that long to move the file.”

  Constantine’s office is next door to Nick’s. He’s not in it. I take a quick tour of the rest of the floor before descending the stairs to the eighth. To the best of my knowledge, he wouldn’t need to access the server room to move files, but it’s the only other logical place he’d be.

  I hear voices the moment I open the door to the eighth floor, and I freeze, straining to make out the words. One of the voices sounds like Constantine’s. I edge through the door and ease it closed. The carpet does a decent job of muffling my footsteps as I approach the voices.

  Or voice. Whoever he’s talking to isn’t responding, but the tone and cadence says it’s definitely a conversation.

  “Find out.”

  A pause, and I take in a shallow breath.

  “No more excuses. Find. Out.” Another pause. “No, eliminating her isn’t an option. It’ll only tip him off. If it happens at all, it should be the two of them at once. Don’t underestimate her.”

  Cold washes over me, and I pull it inside, use it to sooth the jitters, wipe away the little worm of guilt over eavesdropping. Constantine could just as easily be talking about an employee issue. Paranoia’s got a tight grip on me, though, and I’m not willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  He gives one last terse order and hangs up. I dart back to the stairwell door and make more noise as I walk down the hall to the server room. I knock on the half-closed door for good measure before pushing it open. “Constantine?”

  “Cass.” He rounds one of the blinking black towers. “Need another minute. Got an alert that one of the servers might be overheating.”

  “That’s fine. Nick wanted me to tell you he found room on server two. He’s ready to try the download again, but he wants to do it on my phone. Do you have a charger for an android device?” I pull my dead phone from my pocket. “Kind of hard to download anything if it doesn’t have any juice.”

  His smile is warm and genuine, rattling my shaky convictions. Maybe I misheard him. It must have been an employee matter.

  “There’s one in my desk. Top right drawer.” He dips his hand into his pocket and comes out with a key. He tosses it to me. “I’ll be there in a minute. Just need to check the temperature and adjust the sensor.”

  I slowly climb the stairs to the ninth floor, replaying the snippet of conversation and adding it to everything else I’ve observed from Constantine. Everything he’s done, from helping Nick with the initial search for his would-be killer, staying with me while I was stuck in the hospital, to putting us up after Nick’s house burned down, are all such kind, selfless gestures that it causes me physical pain to think it may all be a long con.

  Rubbing a fist absently across my chest, I head for Constantine’s office. It’s tempting t
o snoop through his desk. He did give me a key. But said key means it’s highly unlikely I’d find anything of interest in his desk, so I locate the charger and shut and lock the drawer.

  Nick’s still hunched over his keyboard, poking at the occasional button. I find an outlet near the couch and plug in the charger, then my phone. It powers on with a melodic ping. “We’re in business. How do I connect to your server?”

  “Huh?” He tears his attention from his monitor. “Con had a charger? Good.” He locates his crutches and struggles to his feet.

  “For fuck’s sake. Sit.” I reach down to unplug the charger from the wall.

  “Don’t. I’m fine.” He manages to get his crutches under his arms and swings out and around the desk. Rolling my eyes, I drop back down onto the couch. Fine. That word is going to lose all meaning in the very near future.

  I take his crutches for him as he lowers himself to the couch. Right leg stretched out in front of him, mouth pinched shut, he motions for me to hand him my phone. The cord pulls tight. “Wait. Switch places with me.”

  Getting to my feet, I can actually hear his teeth clack together as he scoots into my spot on the couch. I remain on my feet. “Did you bring your pain pills with you?”

  “No,” he grits out. “We weren’t going to be out that long.”

  True. “Try the download, and then I’ll go get them.”

  He shakes his head and points to the seat beside him. “I’ll be fine. There’s some over-the-counter pills in the first aid kit. Those’ll be enough.”

  “Nick.” The pain isn’t worth it. “Let me get your pain pills.” I take his hand. His skin is cool and slightly clammy against mine. “Tell the truth. How bad is it?”

  He slips his hand free and ignores the question. My phone screen flashes on. “Five minutes,” he murmurs.

  Five minutes, my ass. He’s injured and in pain. I can easily steal his keys. If the download doesn’t work, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  “Is it working?” Constantine walks into the room, tablet in hand and hair more mussed than ever. He flashes me a weary smile as he leans against the desk, and my doubts grow larger. He’s under a lot of stress. Both of them are. What I overheard was business related. It had to be.

  But how much longer can I justify those odd little out-of-character blips?

  Nick drops my phone onto the arm of the couch and slumps back. “Still won’t install. Doesn’t even give an error message. Could still be a server error, and if it is, that’s an even bigger problem.”

  “Do you have anything else you can download?” I ask.

  Nick frowns. “A couple. Have you called the rest of the team?”

  “On their way,” Constantine confirms. “Hope you’re rested. Gonna be a long night.”

  Nick absolutely needs his pain pills. He boosts himself up, and I hand him his crutches. The two of us leave Constantine in Nick’s office, and I dart a look over his shoulder to ensure we’re far enough away that we won’t be overheard. “Give me your keys,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head and veers off into the break room, the rubber tips of his crutches squeaking on the floor. The room is bright with florescent lights, two refrigerators humming quietly. He swings around the tables, pausing to push a chair out of his way. “I don’t want to risk someone following you back to the warehouse.” A long counter with double sinks runs along one wall, and he props his crutches against it, then opens the cupboard over his head. He pulls out a white plastic box with the words First Aid emblazoned across it.

  Mixing his prescription painkillers with over-the-counter ones doesn’t strike me as the smartest idea, but that may not matter if he won’t hand over his keys. “I’ll be extra vigilant. I’ll park twenty blocks away and walk in. The drugs in the first aid kit are not going to cut it, Nick, and you know that. You’ve got too much work to do to be distracted by this.”

  He turns around and leans against the counter. Faint lines of pain are already sinking in around his mouth and eyes. I fist my hands and shove them into my pockets to keep from touching him. “Let me take care of you. You’ve done everything for me.”

  He shakes his head. “There’s no balance sheet here. You needed me more.”

  I still do. But I need him whole and un-hurting. “If you tell me the pain doesn’t affect your concentration, I’ll call you a liar and set your pants on fire.”

  He snorts out a laugh. “If you set my pants on fire, I really will be in pain.” A line appears between his brows. “You’ll be careful? Safe? If they catch up to you, don’t go to the warehouse. It’s the last place I have that no one knows about, and I won’t have it compromised.”

  “Lia knows about it.” I hold out my hand for his keys. I don’t know why I gave them back to him in the first place. The man isn’t able to drive.

  “But no one within the organization does. Lia knows how to keep her mouth shut.” He dips into his left pocket and pulls out his keys, metal jangling against metal.

  I fold them into my hand, welcoming the subtle bite into my palm. “This time of day, it’ll probably be close to two hours before I get back. Will you be okay for that long?” Lucky me, I get to drive just as all the worker bees are leaving for home. If traffic cooperates, I might be able to make the drive in a half hour, but with Nick’s paranoia about being found, I’ll need to add time to account for a possible tail.

  The grimace twisting his mouth would be comical if it weren’t for what’s causing it. “I’ll manage.” He jerks his head to the door. “I’ll walk you to the car.”

  “No, you’ll go right back to your office.” Our mutual history with parking garages is too violent for me to consider walking through one with Nick unable to defend himself very well. I parked on the street, several blocks away, after dropping him at the front door. “I’ll be okay. You need anything, make Constantine get it.”

  We part at the entrance to the break room, Nick to his office, me to the stairwell. His “hurry back” echoes in my head as I make my way down the stairs. I still feel like I’m missing something, or I lack the tools to understand where he’s coming from when it comes to dealing with his family. Anyone sane and logical would know that any violence done to me would only succeed in bringing Nick and I closer together, not farther apart.

  I push open the door to the street and step outside, scanning the sidewalk for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, I shift my grip on his keys and jog down the sidewalk to the car.

  Chapter 11

  There’s something spectacularly creepy about slinking between great, hulking buildings while cars and slightly more terrifying noises play in the background. The warehouse district isn’t one to walk around in after dark, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. Nick always parked in a nearby outbuilding that was converted into a garage. It’s a pain in the ass to open. I opted to park on the street several blocks away, choosing to risk my life walking through the deserted streets rather than risk someone driving by the warehouse and recognizing Nick’s car parked outside.

  Keeping to the shadows doesn’t help my anxiety any, and it ratchets higher as I pat down my pockets, feeling for my phone. Shit. I left it in Nick’s office, still plugged into the charger. I have no way of contacting anyone if something goes wrong.

  Obviously, the solution is for nothing to go wrong.

  I pause at the corner, clear of the light pooling under the streetlight. The streets are dead. No one’s hanging around, not even bums, but I keep my head down and dart through the intersection as quick as I can anyway. Fishing the keys from my pocket, I clench them tight to silence their jangling and hurry for the door to the warehouse.

  No light shines over the door. The shadows are darker here, making it difficult to fit the key in the lock. I finally manage and slip inside, locking it behind me. Faint light from the distant streetlights spills through the high windows, but the interior’s pretty dim. I feel along the wall by the door for the light switch, but freeze
when I hear the crunch of footsteps.

  They stop right in front of the door.

  Letting my breathing go shallow, I crouch down and slide my knife free of its sheath. The double-ended deadbolt eliminates the need for an actual doorknob. Nick opted for a U-shaped handle in its stead. I inch forward and to the side, away from the stairs. If the door doesn’t hold for any reason, I’ll be behind it.

  The door rattles once in the frame as the person on the other side tries to open it. Another rattle, followed by a knock, then a slam, as though a body’s rammed into the solid wood. I suck in a breath, feel the cold, calm detachment flow through me, pushing aside all concern for Nick and his leg and getting back to him as quickly as possible. My goal, my only goal, is to eliminate the threat outside.

  Footsteps head away from the door, and I toe off my shoes as I count to fifty. At fifty-one, I dart up the stairs to the catwalk.

  None of the furniture upstairs is tall enough for me to see out the windows. Which is good news, I guess, because that means no one can see in. Nick would have compensated for the lack of sight with surveillance equipment. I just have to find it.

  I wake up the computer and scowl at the password screen. I don’t have time to decipher it and, knowing my boyfriend, it’s probably complicated as fuck and I’ll never guess it in a thousand years. A quick tour of the room turns up nothing else of use, and I hurry back to the catwalk.

  The door between the office and the bathroom taunts me. I’ve yet to see what’s inside; Nick hasn’t offered to show me and I haven’t snooped, wanting to prove I’m not the immature brat he called me. But that was before someone was circling the warehouse, looking for a way in. I try the knob. It turns smoothly in my hand, and I open the door.