My Book

by Kells, India

  When they entered the private garage, he directed Orla where to turn. He’d only been down here once, but the access had been straightforward. Hidden behind wide pillars, a second garage door blended into the concrete walls. Orla almost hit the brakes, but the door slid up, allowing them entrance.

  There was a small four-space parking area and an open door leading to a workspace and small room. Once the car stopped, his ribs settled, and Sam hoped that meant nothing was broken. He’d know for sure once he was able to get out of his suit and check them properly.

  Before he could put his hand on the door handle, Orla was there, helping him out and sliding her shoulder under his arm for support.

  Sam wasn’t that unsteady, but something softened inside him at her gesture and the concern in her eyes. She gave him the briefcase, and they made their way inside the secured zone.

  He spotted Devin standing by his computer, rapidly typing code before turning his attention to them. His expression contained annoyance and anger until he saw them and rushed forward. “Damn, man! Are you all right? Did the bullets penetrate?”

  Sam didn’t have time to answer before Devin produced a chair and made him sit.

  Orla looked at Devin with a frown, probably sifting through a catalog of faces until he saw it click. “You’re Devin Curtis, right?”

  Sam glared at her question although he knew she couldn’t see his face. Devin didn’t say anything and unhooked the upper part of his suit until he had a clear view of his torso. As Sam drew a deeper breath free from his armor, he knew what he’d see were bruises. His ribs were tender, but as he relaxed and the pain lowered a notch, it didn’t feel as if anything was broken.

  Devin leaned back on his haunches and exhaled. “Damn, man. You had me scared for a minute. Do you know how many times you were hit? You’re going to resemble the purple Teletubby in an hour or so.” And then his friend turned to Orla. “I hope you, and what you know are worth it, lady. For your sake.”

  Sam smiled at Devin’s vehement tone. They were a team composed of people working on the other side of the law, but they were a tight unit.

  Orla wasn’t the type of woman to cower when accused, not even when she was at a disadvantage. “Hey! I’m in the same fucking boat as you guys. And at least I’m doing it officially; you’d better think again before accusing me of having ulterior motives or not being all in. Especially since I know who you are.”

  Devin unfolded his tall frame until he towered over Orla. The billionaire hacker wasn’t the biggest in size, but Sam knew looks could be deceiving. He wasn’t the nerdy-nerd he appeared to be, far from it. “I’m not the type of man to respond amicably to threats, Ms. Karlsen. If I were you, I’d be very careful about what you say next. I’ve allowed you to see my face, but know I didn’t do it lightly, and I have the means to destroy you, your finances, your work, and your reputation if you ever leak this information.”

  From her expression, Sam could tell Orla was about to grind her teeth to dust and wasn’t going to give Devin an inch. Trying to diffuse the tension, he stood with a groan. “Guys, we’re fighting a common enemy. Orla won’t publish your name. Devin won’t sully your name. Now, can we get to the part where we open this briefcase, and I can go lie down for a bit?”

  The effect was immediate, breaking the tension. Devin nodded at him and took the briefcase to his workspace. Orla moved to his side and touched Sam’s arm. The direct contact with his skin produced a spike of awareness, and he wanted more. However, more pressing things needed to be addressed, and he crossed to where Devin was examining the briefcase. “How can we be sure they won’t be able to detect the signal in here and tell the guys after us where we are?”

  Devin snorted, not looking away from the task at hand. “We’re under so much concrete; there’s no way the signal can get through it. And I built this place with extra precautions, installed special deflectors, so when technology changes, we’ll still have an edge.”

  Devin pulled over a chair for Sam to sit and royally ignored Orla. Knowing Devin’s temperament, Sam knew it would take some time before the hacker warmed up to her.

  Orla snarled and grabbed a chair, dragging it over the concrete floor in passive-aggressive vengeance.

  “There are painkillers in the bathroom, but if you want something stronger, I can get you anything you need. Or call the doc.”

  “Please, no. If she’s notified of this, there’ll be hell to pay. And I’m okay. I’ll lay off the painkillers until we know what’s inside that thing.” And Sam hoped they’d find something useful inside.

  “Won’t those guys know where we are anyway? If they followed the GPS, they might find footage of us entering the garage.”

  Devin huffed. “I control every single feed or camera in the area. Now, just shut up, will you?”

  Sam sighed and forced himself to stand and move before his muscles completely seized. The pain was manageable, but he couldn’t wait to remove the rest of his outfit and mask, take a shower, and grab a couple of hours of shut-eye while he could. This place was one of the few locations secure enough for him to relax.

  It took Sam a second to notice Orla had followed him, which meant his body and brain was in need of rest before it shut down. And from the look on Orla’s face, she wasn’t far off collapsing either.

  “We’ll stay until sundown and work from here. It’s the only place I can guarantee you’re safe.”

  Orla shook her head, which wasn’t surprising. “I was disguised when I went to the party; they won’t recognize me.”

  “Agreed, but the GPS led them directly to your apartment. If they have half our means, they already have your name, profession, picture, and bra size on file. They only have to wait for you to reappear to snatch you.”

  “I won’t stay here waiting. The more we wait, the less time we have to find and stop Phantom from spreading. If they’re still on plan, distribution is supposed to start tonight.”

  Sam nodded. “I know. But wandering the streets without knowing who to search for and where to look will be for nothing. As for starting tonight, I suspect the organization halted the moment Mr. Black was taken away and possibly kidnapped.”

  “We go to Maximon and start our search there. We can go now.”

  He wasn’t surprised she was fearless. “What? You’re going to barge in there telling everyone you’re a journalist and you want to talk to the president? Think. You’re good at that. Unless we find something worthy in that briefcase, we need to wait.”

  Sam skimmed his fingers across her cheek, unable to help himself. “When did you eat last? And your eyes are bloodshot. You need to sleep. A couple of hours won’t change anything. Take the chance at rest while you can, because once we leave here, nothing is certain and we’d better be ready.”

  Rubbing her eyes, Sam saw how her fatigue was slowly convincing her he was offering the most sensible solution.

  “Holy fucking shit!”

  Devin’s sudden outburst made Sam jerk in reaction, his body immediately reminding him that was a bad idea when pain streaked through him. He fired off a curse but kept moving. He knew there was nothing dangerous in the immediate area, which meant his friend had found something. Orla moved faster, and Sam reached the workstation to see the briefcase open and filled with some sort of foam, a clear rectangle cut out of the middle... and it was empty.

  “You’re kidding me.” Orla wasn’t happy, and she wasn’t the only one. “What was in the briefcase? And why isn’t it there anymore?”

  Devin removed the foam and examined the briefcase until he finally removed the GPS dot embedded in the lining. “Nothing there. Not anymore.”

  Sam frowned. “Well, whoever is after us doesn’t know the briefcase is empty. Those guys were probably the ones who got their hands on Mr. Black. And if they did, Mr. Black probably told them where the briefcase was, and the GPS linked to it. Personally, if the scenario were to get information on their organization, I would use Black to get every bit of information I possibl
y could.”

  “But who are they? We were looking for ways to stop the spread of Phantom after the bid. Is there another player?” Devin swiveled his chair, clearly trying to make sense of it all.

  “Maybe it’s one of the losers, trying to make sure the winner never reaps the benefits from Phantom. After all, they attacked during Black and White’s party, even kidnapping one of the heads of the organization. It’s a possibility that it was an attempt to bring them down. If down, there would be another bid.”

  Orla made a lot of sense, and even Devin tended to agree with her but with his own interpretation. “Or, if the attackers’ goal was to get what was in this briefcase and kill Black and White, I suspect Black is still alive and will remain so until they get their hands on whatever it is they’re searching for. Until White bends his knees and surrenders.”

  “And White, whoever he is, must be deep in hiding. We must find him. He might have an idea on who his attacker is. If we are very lucky, he may even tell us the name of the Phantom’s official owner. So many trails, so little time. Dude, do you want me to call the others in on this?”

  Devin was speaking carefully, watching his words around Orla and Sam wasn’t sure what to do. Part of him wanted to trust the woman, but would that be a mistake and put his friends and Noctem at risk?

  “Are you still searching White’s real name? And any information you can dig on him? And see if you can find out who those mercenaries are? Do you have time for that? Once we have an initial assessment, we’ll decide if we should bring in the others.”

  “I always have time for you, mate. It’s a lot of digging through the paperwork of the main company. I doubt that Mr. White is his real name; otherwise, I would have found his identity already. Don’t worry, I make it my personal business to smoke him out. Now, go get those painkillers so you can be operational. And both of you rest. I’ll bring you some food in a bit. There’s a shower through that door. Everything is rudimentary, but comfortable. There are coded locks inside and out, and I’ll be on overwatch to make sure you’re safe.”

  Devin typed a few keys on the array of computers, the screens flickered before going dark, and he left by a side door. Sam’s body started screaming louder for his attention.

  Orla went to the computer and clicked a few keys but to no avail. Without a word, she went to the door and tried to open it.

  When she kicked the reinforced steel in obvious frustration, Sam smiled. “It seems Devin doesn’t want you wandering around or touching his baby. No wonder, you pissed him off.”

  “What if there’s a fire or an emergency?”

  “I’m sure Devin has a contingency plan. Hell, his contingency plans have contingency plans.”

  When Sam put his hand around his middle and turned to the bathroom, he saw Orla’s expression turn from annoyance to worry. He found the painkillers and swallowed a couple and eyed the shower, but that would mean removing his mask, something he was still debating. As he replaced his mask over his mouth, Orla entered the bathroom and leaned against the door jamb.

  “I can’t see your face, but the way the bruises are blooming on your torso and abdomen, you must feel like hell. And you’re far from comfortable with your mask on.”

  When Sam didn’t answer, she shook her head and sighed. “If I promise——vow—never to reveal your secret, would you believe me?”

  He didn’t look at her, remaining in place, his hands braced on the sides of the sink. “In my line of work, trust doesn’t come easy. Especially when I know a particular journalist is on a mission to discover who I am.”

  The look on her face said it all. Since he’d first decided to follow Orla, digging into her had been a priority, and placing bugs at her desk, child’s play. It hadn’t been a real surprise to him to discover she was trying to identify him, after all, Orla Karlsen had always followed the best mysteries in the city, and apart from Phantom, the vigilante had been the best of all.

  “I would be lying if I said you hadn’t drawn my interest. I’m working to uncover the truth, and you’re working in the shadows, on the wrong side of the law. You can’t expect me, or anyone for that matter, not to look into this. Into you.”

  Sam was pragmatic and understood her reasons, but part of him hated she saw him as a criminal. It made his skin crawl and his blood boil. “That’s your take on what I do? That I’m no better than the fuck-ups at the party.”

  Pushing past her, he decided he’d had enough, and apart from a full-fledged confrontation, there was nothing to do but rest his sore body.

  His patience wearing thin, his reaction preceded his logic, and he turned when she tried to stop him by grabbing his elbow, disengaging her and trapping her against the wall.

  There was a flash of fright in her blue eyes, and a perverse part of him was glad. If she thought he was such a monster, he’d prove it to her.

  “Don’t push me. You don’t know me, who I am, who I was, and what I’m capable of. And I’m not going to be your next headline.”

  When she opened her mouth, he stepped back and released her. Why did this woman get to him so deep and fast like a sharp blade?

  “I get the room. You get the sofa. Sleep well, Orla.”

  Sam turned away and hoped for a clearer head after the meds kicked in, and his body could rest without Ms. Orla Karlsen invading his mind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Orla wanted to punch something but knew that most of the frustration and guilt she was feeling was solely her fault. She S knew how to handle strong emotions when investigating a story, but this time was different. This situation had so many layers, so many angles, it was almost overwhelming and had fast become personal.

  The vigilante had been right; she’d seen him as a story rather than a person. Shutting down Phantom had been an honorable mission and digging into the vigilante an irrepressible fascination with the added benefit of solidifying her reputation in Chicago.

  Not only that, if she was being honest with herself, she felt an undeniable attraction toward the masked man, and it messed with her brain and body.

  She’d always been thorough and professional throughout her career, and never lost sight of the goal or indulged in sex with a potential story. She’d now done both in this case.

  What was wrong with her?

  When she rose, her body screamed in pain from being stationary too long and a lack of rest. Rest was the smart thing to do, but she couldn’t calm her thoughts. Pacing the concrete area, Orla rolled her shoulders and stretched, easing the physical pain, but not the buzzing thoughts inside her skull.

  What did she want? When in doubt, she reminded herself where she was going and what her goals were.

  Stopping Phantom was the main one. And the vigilante? Two days ago, she would’ve seen him as the story of her life. Of her entire career. Now? Her gaze went to the closed door of the room where he rested. She increasingly saw him as a man and less as a potential article.

  There were dedication and selflessness in him, blended with violence and ruthlessness. He wasn’t a wild card; on the contrary, he noticed possibilities, sought alliances. The vigilante was a strategist who would go to great lengths to fulfill his mission, exactly like her.

  Could she fault him for wanting to protect his identity and that of the people working with him? He took care of the city in his own way, but his goal was the same as hers.

  The more she paced, the more her feet brought her toward the door. One part of the equation was how her body reacted to him whenever he was nearby. He didn’t have to touch her to make her aware of the lust heating her body like fireworks.

  In a few days, her desire to unmask Chicago’s vigilante had turned into a desire for the man behind the mask. The unexpected benefit was having a partner as she worked. Beyond the high of the chase and her lust for him, Orla realized it was that partnership she craved, and she wanted more of that feeling.

  Her hand hovered over the door handle, but she stopped herself. The vigilante didn’t trust her, not y
et. An idea popped into her head and she found what she was searching for in the bathroom- a long piece of cloth.

  Standing in front of the door again, she used the rag as a makeshift blindfold and made sure her vision was completely blocked regardless of how hard she shook her head.

  With a bracing breath, she knocked on the door. Through the silence, she heard a faint rustling noise coming from inside and jumped at the sound of the door being flung open.

  The silence that followed was unsettling, and Orla wondered if she hadn’t imagined everything. “Are you there?”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  The voice was gruff and sleepy, and for the first time, the modulator didn’t interfere with the vigilante’s voice. She was certain he had put his mask on before opening the door but hadn’t bothered with the device.

  “I... I couldn’t sleep and wanted to apologize. And was worried you’d be taken off guard and forget to put your mask on. I didn’t want you at a disadvantage.”

  Silence followed, and Orla didn’t know what to do so she kept talking. “I wanted to know everything about you. You have to admit, there aren’t many vigilantes around, ready to face the worst and darkest of Chicago on his own. And I didn’t know if you were linked to Phantom or if you were investigating it as well. I thought the coincidence was too good to pass up, solving two cases in one by ending the Phantom’s spread and uncovering the vigilante.”

  Orla swallowed; her throat suddenly parched from pouring her heart out in front of a near stranger. “But things changed, and so did my perspective. I’m curious, but I also know there are things that shouldn’t come to light. And maybe you’re one of them. You’re doing some good here, and there isn’t enough being done to turn it down. I’m determined to see this through though, to shut Phantom out of our city and make sure everyone linked to it is taken care of, one way or another. I know we think alike. I promise I won’t ask you who you are or try to find out. Once this investigation is wrapped, I won’t investigate you anymore. You have my word.”