Full Domain is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Advil: Wyeth, LLC
Apple: Apple, Inc.
ASUS: Asustek Computer Incorporation Corporation
Atlanta International Airport: City of Atlanta
Back to the Future: Universal/U-Drive Joint Venture
Barbie: Mattel, Inc.
Bose: Bose Corporation
Bud Light: Anheuser-Busch, Incorporated
Call of Duty: Activision Publishing, Inc.
Coors: MillerCoors LLC
CTFxC: Charles Trippy
CVS: CVS Pharmacy, Inc.
Dulles International: Metropolitan Washington Airports Authority
ESPN: ESPN, Inc.
Ethan Hunt (Mission Impossible character): Paramount Pictures Corporation
FBI: Federal Bureau of Investigation
FedEx: Federal Express Corporation
Flo Rida: Dillard, Tramar
Glock: Glock, Inc.
Google: Google, Inc.
Hallmark Channel: Hallmark Licensing LLC
Hawaii Five-O: CBS Studios Inc.
Heineken: Heineken Brouwerijen B.V.
Holiday Inn: Six Continents Hotels, Inc.
Home Depot: Homer TLC, Inc.
iPad: Apple, Inc.
iPhone: Apple, Inc.
Jack in the Box: Jack in the Box Corporation
Justin Timberlake (SexyBack): Tennman Brands, LLC
Levi's: Levi Strauss & Co. Corporation
Lush: Cosmetic Warriors Ltd.
Marine Corps: US Marine Corps, a component of the US Department of the Navy
MIT: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Corporation
Monsters, Inc.: Disney Enterprises, Inc.
Mountain Dew: Pepsico, Inc.
Nine Inch Nails (Closer): Michael Trent Reznor
Oreo: Intercontinental Great Brands LLC
Pay Day: Tournament One Corp
Samsonite: Samsonite IP Holdings S.A.R.L.
Shinedown (Call Me): Smith, Brent
Sonic: America’s Drive-In Corp.
Speedo: Speedo International
SpongeBob SquarePants: Viacom International Inc.
State of Decay: Microsoft Corporation
Subway: Doctor’s Associates Inc.
Superman: DC Comics General Partnership
The Creatures: The Creatures LLC
The Matrix: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
The Men’s Warehouse: The Men’s Warehouse, Inc.
Tahoe: General Motors LLC
Tim Tams: Campbell Soup Company
Underoos: Fruit of the Loom, Inc.
US Navy: The Department of the Navy
Walmart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.
Whataburger: Whataburger Partnership
X-Files: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation
Note from the Author
This is not the hacker’s bible – please don’t use it as such. Technology changes by the second. Creative license was taken with this story. It is a work of fiction.
Chapter 1
“Man, this is turning into one suck-ass day,” Aaron mumbled quietly to no one in particular as he edged his way through the overcrowded and lengthy terminals of the Atlanta International Airport. He swore his backpack weighed at least fifty pounds and the small carry-on he tugged behind him easily added another twenty-five. He’d tried to stick to the bare necessities for this trip, but with all his gear, electronic equipment, and his most important ASUS ROG notebook, which he never left home without, he still managed to over-pack.
The gates and corridors were congested with rude, indignant travelers, more than he’d ever seen gathered in one place before. From the conversations he’d caught snippets of along the way, the irritable attitudes were due to unexpected flight delays across the eastern half of the United States.
A winter storm had blown through, dumping a shit-load of ice in its wake. Apparently the magnitude of the storm had caught the southern half of the US by surprise. The meteorologists had completely missed this monster of a storm before it bore down on its intended target. At least that was the continued excuse he kept hearing from the airport personnel as to why they weren’t better prepared for this crippling event during one of the busiest traveling days of the year. Words like happy and holiday were used with increasingly angry bursts of fucking and asshole added to the mix.
Not even the Christmas carols playing overhead helped lighten the mood surrounding him. So much for peace on earth.
Keeping his eyes focused on the large information screens, Aaron scanned the arrival and departure listings, watching as hundreds of delayed flights were canceled all across the East Coast—not that any of that actually mattered to him. His flight from Miami had arrived so late he’d have missed his connecting flight regardless of the inclement weather.
No way in hell would he spend the night in some corner of this overly congested airport, waiting for the flight schedules to open again. The Federal Bureau of Investigation would just have to work their magic and get him on a different flight tomorrow or when things let up outside. Until then, he’d find a vacant room in a five-star hotel—preferably the Drake—his favorite place to stay when he stopped in Atlanta.
Aaron sighed as he followed the discontented masses toward what he hoped was an exit. If the weather was as bad as everyone kept hinting, he might not get a chance to eat at Poor Calvin’s, Aaron’s favorite little Asian-fusion eatery on Piedmont Street. The lobster fried rice was to die for and thoughts of the dish had actually been the only thing keeping him sane as they’d flown high above the city; it felt like they’d been circling for an hour and a half, waiting for their chance to land. His stomach picked that second to protest, the loud rumble reminding him he hadn’t eaten anything since the protein shake he’d choked down for breakfast.
Aaron looked around and spotted a food kiosk about fifty feet away. That should take care of his urgent food needs until he could get to the hotel. Taking a deep breath, he carefully dodged his way through the crowd, attempting to move toward the kiosk, which proved a trickier process than he’d anticipated. He apparently hadn’t truly experienced the vexed people in this airport until he tried to work his way between them.
“Hey, move it!” the guy behind him bellowed as Aaron slowed to merge farther to the left.
“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” Aaron apologized when he accidently stepped in front of another person in his rush to get out of the middle of traffic and away from the jerk behind him. The woman in his path huffed, and although he’d never touched her, her hands flailed dramatically like he had tripped her in some way.
“Dude, watch it,” the man beside her quipped, making a show of keeping the woman on her feet as she reached out for his arm. Aaron moved quickly to the opposite side, tugging his luggage out of the way and inadvertently stepped into the flow of traffic going the opposite direction.
“Shit!” he exclaimed loudly when a large trunk-style suitcase rolled right over his sandaled foot.
The scowl he’d been holding back slid firmly in place as he watched the person who’d so rudely rolled over his foot, glance back over his shoulder to give him a very clear fuck you glower as he kept going without any hesitation.
Seriously, this place was worse than Black Friday on motherfucking steroids. Aaron took a deep breath and tried to move farther out of the way. He made it to the far wall and stopped outside the flow of manic pedestrians to catch his breath and regroup. The only reason he was in this godforsaken mass
of pissed off travelers during the airlines’ busiest and most miserable travel week of the year was a job, and no job on the planet was worth this kind of bullshit.
Time to reassess his life. No more Mr. Nice Guy. He was done with that. Look what being nice had cost him. He was standing in the middle of hell. If the FBI insisted he be onsite, then he shouldn’t have any problem becoming the biggest pain-in-the-ass on the planet.
Except that just wasn’t his personality. He’d tried everything to make the bureau see that he wasn’t needed in Washington, DC, for this assignment. He could carry on as he was, monitoring everything from home with the equipment he needed to do his job properly. Look how far he’d gotten on his own, from the privacy and comfort of his living room.
Yet the stuffed-shirt egomaniacs in DC said it would be in everyone’s best interest if they were able to look him in the eye when they spoke. In other words, no matter what he had done to prove himself, they didn’t trust him as far as they could throw him.
But not even the FBI could control Mother Nature—even though the majority of them had huge God complexes—and he wouldn’t arrive there today as he’d been ordered. That thought eased a little of his tension. Honestly, their demands meant nothing to him, and the only reason he’d eventually given in and flown to DC had to do with his friend Mitch Knox.
Since Mitch had first asked for his help, something about this entire case needled at him. Aaron couldn’t tolerate injustice, bigotry, or hatred in any form, and the fact that this case had hit so close to home for Mitch had an effect on Aaron as well. Those few minutes after Cody had been shot were some of the most frantic of Aaron’s life. He’d shown his true ability, hacking into everything as he’d desperately tried to find answers for Mitch.
At the time, Aaron’s belief in the justness of a situation had overpowered any reasonable thought. He wanted the best for the world, especially for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. Cody shot in the chest… Mitch trying to get to him… No one getting Mitch the answers he needed… Yeah, there was nothing fair in any of that at all.
More than anything, Aaron hated bureaucratic bullying. The arrogance of that act just pissed him the hell off. Life should have buffers in place to protect people from Big Brother beating them down and stalling the process for their own gain. They could have gotten Mitch his answers, but hadn’t, and that wasn’t right. Life should be nothing more than moment after moment of peace, love, and rock and roll—or some shit along those lines.
Aaron finally manned up, found a break in the traffic, and began moving again. He made his way to the long line waiting at the food kiosk, and took his place at the end with the rest of the hungry patrons. He looked over the menu board and groaned in frustration when he found absolutely nothing good to eat. He could choose from an extensive list of foot-long hot dogs or, for an exorbitant price, he could upgrade to sausage. His arteries hardened at the thought.
“I heard it’s turning to snow outside.”
He looked over his shoulder to see who had spoken the first kind words he’d heard since arriving in Atlanta and found an older couple behind him.
“Snow? Really?” he asked, just to be nice. At this point, he didn’t give a shit. He needed food and to get to the hotel and unpack. He’d planned for colder weather in DC, but left Miami in his standard attire of walking shorts, T-shirt, and a CTFxC hoodie.
“Yes, they’re calling for snow, maybe up to an inch. They’re saying the highways are backing up already.” Those words actually caused Aaron a slight panic. He needed to get moving.
“Thanks,” he said absently before he broke from the line, braving the pedestrians bustling toward the exit. He absolutely wasn’t getting stuck in this airport overnight; he could go hungry until he arrived at the hotel. He’d live. He shoved his way through the corridor until he spotted the closest exit. He pushed through the doors and the biting wind took his breath. Nothing but more chaos awaited him on the other side. People were packed three deep from the curb, waiting for any way possible to get out. The airport shuttles were filling to capacity and the taxis couldn’t stop fast enough to pick up passengers.
Aaron pushed his way to the curb and called out to a guy lifting a trunk lid to load his luggage inside a Checker cab. “Where are you going?”
“Downtown,” the stranger yelled back, never really looking up from his task as he scrambled to load his baggage. An upturned suit jacket collar and keeping his head bent in were the man’s only defenses against the biting wind and heavy snow.
“I’ll pay the fare if you let me ride,” Aaron offered. The slush hit his uncovered legs and feet, causing him to shiver as the freezing temperatures registered with his body.
The guy finally looked up at him, eyeing him closely before he replied, “Sure.”
Aaron tossed his backpack with his laptop in the backseat and went for the trunk. The driver stayed inside the taxi with the heater blowing, offering zero help. Aaron pulled the hood of the hoodie over his head, slid the zipper as high as it would go, and reached for his suitcase. At that exact moment, another taxi came barreling past. The taxi splashed the length of the left side of his body with slushy ice water. The shock of the cold attacking his body caused him to lose his grasp on his suitcase, which then tipped over but, luckily, landed intact on the wet pavement.
There were only seconds of relief as another car ran over it. The Samsonite held together until the third car. After that, it didn’t stand a chance. He watched in horror as four cars hit his suitcase before an attendant could get involved and direct traffic away from all his belongings being spread across the parkway. With no other choice, Aaron trudged through the ice and falling snow in his sandals and gathered all his now-ruined clothes as everyone watched from the safety of the covered sidewalk.
As he worked, the taxi started honking. The guy he was riding with took pity and jumped out, tossing Aaron’s drenched, dirty clothes into the trunk. By the time they finished, Aaron felt like his clothes looked: frayed, inundated, and completely wrecked. He was soaked and shivering as he finally got inside the taxi. The driver pulled out before he was able to get the door fully closed.
“Here,” the guy said, shrugging out of his coat.
“It’s okay.” Aaron was surprised he got the words out, his teeth were chattering so loudly. The older man didn’t pay him any attention, draping the warm, dry coat over him.
“You should take off those wet sandals,” the guy suggested. Aaron did, rubbing his feet together when he noticed they were completely numb.
“Where are we going?” the cab driver called out as he merged into traffic. At least the driver had positioned all the vents to point in his direction, pushing the warm air back on him.
“The Drake,” Aaron called out first, fighting against the cold chill gripping his body. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“I was going to the Holiday Inn.”
“Take us both to the Drake.” Aaron involuntarily shivered as he pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and dialed his father’s assistant.
“Hey, Aaron,” she answered. He couldn’t remember her name but did remember she was younger than him by almost six years. His father liked them young.
“Hey, listen. I’m stuck in Atlanta overnight. I need you to get me a couple of rooms at the Drake.”
“Okay, no problem,” she said. He could hear her typing on the other end of the line.
“They’re filling up fast. Let me make a call,” she said professionally. At least this one seemed to have some communication and secretarial skills. That was more than most who’d filled this position over the years.
“I can’t afford the Drake,” the guy next to him said.
“It’s on me.” Aaron left off the part about it being a family-owned property. That kind of thing usually made people look at him differently and ended up costing him more money in the long run. The guy started to argue, but Aaron held up his hand to silence the protest when his father’s assistant returned to the lin
e to give him the details.
“You’ve got two rooms. They’re suites. Non-connecting and on two different floors. It’s the best I could do. I hear the weather there’s a beast.”
“You have no idea. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll tell your dad you said hello.” Aaron let that one go without a response. He’d never tell his dad hello. Much like his father, they both liked to pretend the other didn’t exist.
“The Drake,” he instructed the taxi driver as he shoved the phone back in his pocket. When he realized he wasn’t being tossed around the backseat like a normal taxi ride, he glanced out the windows to see they were inching along in bumper-to-bumper traffic, not even to the highway yet. Aaron shivered again and rubbed his feet on the floor mat to build friction. His feet were fucking freezing.
“I can’t let you pay for my room.”
“It’s the least I can do. You restored my faith in humanity,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Aaron. I get a corporate discount. It’s not a problem.”
“I’m Ted. Thank you,” the guy replied.
“Now, let’s see if we can make it that far,” he said, looking back out the window. The heater was blowing harder now. He handed the coat back to Ted and tugged the hood off his head to run his hands through his thick bleached-blond hair. He’d changed the color about a month ago and added purple and black to the tips. He’d planned to add turquoise just to mess with the boys at the FBI, but he’d run out of time.
The cold wetness of his shorts riding across his skin sent a shiver up his spine as his phone vibrated in his pocket. The only reason he checked it was to see if the hotel reservations had changed. A text from Kreed. Aaron swiped his finger across the screen to open the message.
Nice Guys Collection With Added Bonus Material Page 72
