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“You have a lot of nerve showing up here again!”

“Just let me talk to Indigo. If she says I have to go, then
I’ll go!”

“Oh, you think that’s your call now?” Shireese sneered.
“After all the SHIT you pulled!”

Indigo toed on her cowboy boots, shrugging on her wool coat.
She put a hand on the door handle then closed her eyes, breathing slowly. In
the hallway, the voices were shouts of anger. Her face was a serene mask as she
pulled the door open and stepped out. She had her shoulders back, her hips
swinging as she came down the hallway.

Both voices disappeared at the click of her heels.

“Morning, Shireese,” she said as she reached the front door.
She turned, as if only just noticing that her ex was standing there at all.
“Cal,” she breathed, raising her brows. “What are
you
doing here?”

He smiled, positioning himself between Shireese and Indigo.
He had, she saw, a bouquet of red roses in hand, but her attention was fixed on
his face. His brown eyes looked tired in the morning light, his face worn in a
way she hadn’t noticed last night in the dark. More like
her Cal,
not a
younger version of the man she’d loved.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “Shireese and I were just talking
about you.”

“Ah,” Indigo said, grabbing her purse from where it sat next
to the door, and pulling it over her shoulder. “I thought I heard voices.”

She slowly lifted her gaze. Cal’s face was hungry, hands
tight at his side.

“Indigo, don’t,” Shireese warned.

“I thought you might want to grab breakfast with me,” he
said, lifting the flowers up before him like an offering. Shireese made a
choking sound. “I thought we could go someplace quiet and talk about things.
About us…”

He pushed the flowers toward her, but she didn’t take them.
Instead she forced the most innocent smile she had; it started with a wavering
of her lips, but moved outward to dimpled cheeks, spreading up until it
crinkled her eyes. This was the face she’d used when she’d once sat in the back
of a police car, the face she’d used when her probation officer read off a list
of infractions. It was purity and innocence, and Indigo knew how to use every
facet of it.

“Oh Cal, that’s so nice of you,” she said with a shake of
her head. “But, I’m sorry, I can’t.” The flowers dropped down a notch. “You
see,” Indigo continued brightly. “I’m meeting Jude for breakfast. And I’m
already late.”

“Jude.” He snarled the word like a cuss.

“Yes, Jude. My
boyfriend
.” Indigo said, malice
hardening the title. “I’m sorry I couldn’t introduce you last night, but your
arrival was a little…” she rolled her eyes, “…
dramatic
. Didn’t want Jude
getting the wrong impression or anything.”

Cal’s mouth opened and closed again like a fish. Behind him
Shireese hooted.

“So, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” Indigo said, heading
out the open door into the hallway and walking away.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Elliot’s tiny Matrix hatchback whined in the cold air while
they waited at the stoplight but Jude didn’t notice. His eyes were on the
street ahead.

“That’s it up there,” Jude said, pointing. “The building
next to the parking garage. Marq said to wait for him in front.”

The light changed and the car moved forward. Unhappy with
the weather, the engine dropped to a loose-sounding growl, almost stalling,
then bunny-hopped twice before catching its stride. At the end of the block was
an entrance protected by a black-suited man with mirrored glasses. Marq stood
beside him, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Shit,” Jude muttered.

“What the hell is this place?” Elliot breathed.

“I um, I dunno.”

On the street, Marq raised a hand, hailing them.

“This doesn’t feel good,” Elliot grumbled, as he headed
toward the building. “You want to change your mind?”

“I can’t,” Jude said tightly. “Marq’s already seen us. Just
pull over and park somewhere, okay?”

Elliot passed the entrance, locating a spot half a block
down. He pulled over to the edge of the road.

“This guy you’re meeting,” he said. “It’s about the program
you guys have been working on, isn’t it?” His lips were a slash of indignation.

“Yeah.”

“This is no good, Jude,” he growled. “No good at all.”

Jude sighed, irritation prickling at his chest. He was so
tired he felt sick, and wasn’t in the mood for one of Elliot’s holier-than-thou
speeches. They’d been best friends forever, but there were times when they were
too different
. A memory of years earlier intruded. Jude had been caught
for hacking in high school because someone had called him in. Elliot had
sworn
it hadn’t been him, but at moments like this, Jude wondered.

“It’s
fine,
” he snapped, reaching for the handle. “I
can handle it.”

“You need to get out of this before it’s too late.”

“Well, I can’t, Elliot!” He pushed the door open. “Not this
time. We’ve
done
the work. I’m just bringing it in.”

“You always have a choice,” Elliot repeated. “Your dad used
to tell you how—”

Jude slammed the door, cutting off the rest of what he
wanted to say.

“Not always….”

Ahead, at the door, the man in the suit lifted his phone to
his ear, speaking into it. Jude forced himself to walk forward, Elliot’s
warning dragging him back into memory. A decade earlier, Jude had stormed away
from home on a bright Tuesday morning, heading to Elliot’s house without saying
goodbye. Jude couldn’t remember what he and his father had argued about that
day: too much gaming likely, or maybe his waning grades. Whatever it had been,
it had been their last conversation. That afternoon, a fire had broken out in a
dockside warehouse. Kyle Alden, a firefighter, was one of the first responders
to go inside.

He hadn’t come out.

Jude’s jaw tightened until his teeth hurt, fists clenched as
he strode forward. When his father had walked into that building, he’d
known
that he had a son at school, and he’d known the situation was bad… so much so
that he’d called his ex-wife to say so. Jude had spent years hating his father
for that choice, for leaving him behind. Today, heading into the meeting
against his misgivings, Jude had a new thought: that sometimes you
didn’t
have a choice about taking risks.

 “You ready to go in?” Marq asked as Jude reached his
side.

Behind them, a horn beeped twice. Elliot was waiting for
him, but Jude refused to turn and look.

“Let’s go do this.”

: : :
: : : : : : :

Indigo was halfway down the hall when Cal began to shout.

“Wait a minute, Indigo! Hold on! I need to talk to you!”

She walked faster, chest heaving. She’d almost reached the
stairwell when footsteps echoed behind her. Her heart began to riot against the
walls of her chest, breath quickening. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Cal,” she said coolly.

He had her slammed up against the wall in seconds, his body
against hers. His hand, still holding the roses, was against her arm, the other
on her neck, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. She gasped, and Cal moved
in, kissing her angrily, teeth and tongue duelling, as she fought to keep her
balance. For just a moment, she let herself revel in the feel of him. He tasted
the same, smelled the same; the faint scent of aftershave inexplicably
comforting. It was everything
else
she couldn’t handle.

Unbidden, his horror-struck voice appeared in her mind.

“When you said you had a secret, I had no idea what you
meant!” he’d sneered. “God, Indigo, you can’t really think I’d just be okay
with this…”

It had been raining that night, but he hadn’t asked her
in. She’d stood on the front step, shivering.

“I told you,” Indigo had cried, “because you said you
wanted to know.”

 “Honey?” a woman’s voice had called out from inside
the house.

“Just a minute,” he’d replied. “I’ll be right up, Fiona.”

Indigo had stared at him in horror, the realization a
twist of the knife.

“Your wife never left…”

Indigo bit down on Cal’s lip, tasting blood, and he jerked
back.

“Get away from me!” she shrieked.

He stumbled backward, panting. He dabbed at his lip, glancing
at the blood on his fingertips.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he began, “I thought you’d—”

“You thought
wrong
!” she yelled. “You can’t just walk
back into my fucking life and think everything’s the same! You ended things,
Cal!
You
!” She took a shaking breath. “And I don’t have
time
for
this… this shit anymore!”

She spun away from him, heading to the elevator before
changing her mind and taking the stairs. Cal followed, hands outstretched; the
roses lay scattered on the dull floor like splashes of blood.

“Stop, Indigo!” he yelled as she stumbled down the first few
stairs. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry about
everything
!”

The shouting followed her down to the third floor, then
faded, disappearing by the time she reached the second. Only then did she stop.
Breath coming in sharp gasps, Indigo slumped against the wall of the stairwell,
blinking back tears. Shaking, her legs gave way under the shock and she slid
down until she sat on the grimy linoleum.

‘If he takes the stairs,
’ her mind whispered.
‘It’s
meant to be. If he comes to find me, I’ll talk to him, and listen…
’

She waited for the drum of footsteps, chest tight. One
minute passed, then two. Cars passed on the street, a distant siren rising and then
falling again. With an exhausted sob, Indigo leaned forward. She wrapped her
arms around her legs, buried her face against her knees, and began to cry.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Jude stood before the desk, his hands clutched tightly
behind him, mind racing like a rat in a maze. He needed out. He needed away
from here. But there was no way either was going to happen.

He was in too deep.

On either side of the richly decorated room stood two armed
men, one short and lean, the other muscled and tall. Their faces were engraved
in Jude’s mind: Luca, who looked like a Russian thug, Patel, a back alley
shyster. Jude swallowed hard, feeling a trickle of sweat draw a line down the
center of his back. His eyes skittered back to the man at the desk.
King
Fischer:
the most vicious mobster in the city
.
Though the man sat,
while the others stood, it was clear he was the one with the power. A handgun
lay next to the laptop in front of him, the firearm incongruous amongst the
hard drives and wires that cluttered the desk.

“It’s impressive,” King said, his scarred face twisting into
a half-smile. “Better than I’d hoped.”

Jude nodded; he didn’t trust himself to talk.

“Thanks,” Marq said. “We checked it all. The code’s good.
Jude came up with a secondary override program to mimic whatever existing virus
protection or firewall a system might have. It tricks the computer into
thinking it’s already protected, while the Trojan downloads. That’s why it took
us a couple extra days.” He glanced over at Jude, smiling. “Wanted to make sure
it worked right.”

King nodded, lifting his gaze to Jude. His eyes were flinty.

“So you’re the one who came up with the override?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

The mobster’s fingers drummed on the chair’s armrest.

“Risky to make changes I didn’t ask for,” he growled. “Makes
me wonder if I can trust you.”

His hand moved off the chair, settling down next to the gun.
Jude’s mouth was dry, a flush of heat rising over his shoulders, leaving him
light-headed. The rat in the maze ran faster. He could remember footage of the
dockside fire that had killed his father and four other men. They’d been
trapped on the third floor when the stairwell collapsed, trapping them. His
eyes flicked to the windows and back to King.

They were on the fifteenth floor.

“I j- just wanted to make sure it work,” Jude gasped. “I… I
can’t get caught, sir.”

King leaned forward, scowling.

“Can’t?”

Marq stared at Jude with wide-eyed panic, his face almost
comedic in its terror.

“Years ago, I… I got expelled from high school,” he
stammered. “I work at the university now. I can’t get caught. I’d lose my job.”

“Your job,” King repeated, his lips twitching.

Jude nodded, and the other side of King’s misshapen mouth
tugged up, a gruff laugh fighting its way out. Behind him Luca joined in.
Suddenly all three of the armed men were laughing. Marq began giggling, though
the sound had a crazed edge.

“Expelled from high school,” the mobster chuckled, pulling a
silk handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbing his eyes. “Oh Sweet Jesus,” he
sighed. “What’s the world coming to?”

He dropped the handkerchief on the desk, leaning back in his
chair. He watched Jude with hooded eyes, as if calculating something, then
peered over his shoulder.

“Luca,” he ordered. “Get my file.”

“Your file?”

King glared at him, and the guard jumped to comply. He
shuffled through the top drawer of a filing cabinet, pulling out a yellow
manila folder.

“Here you go, sir.”

“To Mr. Alden here,” King muttered.

Luca glanced at Patel in question, but didn’t speak. He held
the folder out to Jude, holding it gingerly between two fingers, as if it might
explode.

“What is this?” Jude asked.

King ignored him.

“Patel,” he barked. “Bring Mr. Alden here a chair. We need
to talk.”

The guard nodded, carrying over a small folding chair under
one arm. He set it next to Jude’s knees.

“Sit,” King said with a nod. “I want to show you something.”
He turned, glaring at Marq. “Luca, if you could show Mr. Lopez out.”