Love and Wargames: A Bad Boy Hacker Romance (21 page)

He reaches out before I stand and draws me in for one last kiss full of passion and warmth. I smile, feeling just as much ache for him as he does for me.

My skin grows cold the second his touch drops from me. Not even the desert heat keeps my skin from shivering as I lie back down on my own cot and pull the blanket over me. I look out across the tent, sensing Boxcar’s deep green eyes on me in the dark, and a happiness grows inside of me; one I’ve never felt before in my life. I think for a moment, wondering if anything in the world can bring this down.

Then I look around again at the empty cots of my unit and I remember where I am.

***

I sit up in my cot and dread immediately seeps inside of me.

Just yesterday, I had my team’s blood on my hands and today, I’m going home. I always thought I’d feel differently about it. I thought I’d feel happier but I something feels out of place, like a puzzle piece that just won’t fit right until you realize you’ve got it in backwards.

I look straight ahead at Boxcar’s cot. He’s still inside of it, sleeping quietly. My lips twitch, along with the rest of me at the memory of last night.

My eyes wander to Fox’s cot next to mine and I pause. It’s as empty as Rogers’ and West’s. Usually, it only takes a hiccup to wake me but I must have slept through him tying off his boots.

I throw on my BDUs and step outside into the desert sun. It’s somehow more harsh than usual and each breath feels less satisfying than the last. I scan the camp for Fox’s face but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Fawn!”

Paxton waves me towards the command tent and I slip inside. The men he brought with him sit around the tent, each one of them staring me down as I scan their hard faces. “Yes, sir?”

“Chopper leaves in an hour,” he barks, chewing on the end of a pencil. “You and Carson better be on it.”

I nod. “Absolutely, sir. We will be.”

“Good.” He waves me off and bends down to sift through a stack of paperwork on the corner desk.

I linger for a moment more. “Sir, I’d like to speak with Fox before I go. Do you know where he is?”

“Who?”

“Fitzpatrick, sir.”

Paxton pauses and stands up taller. “Oh, him,” he says, sliding the pen out from between his teeth. “Fitzpatrick was transferred out this morning.”

“Where?” I ask, my skin crawling with confusion.

He hesitates, furrowing his brow so a shadow casts over his eyes. “Doesn’t matter anymore,” he mutters. “Damn plane went down over Iraq. He’s gone.”

My heart sinks. His tone is so cold, so impersonal, like he just lost a pawn on a chessboard. “Excuse me?”

He glances up and his eyes glide over me. “I said Fitzpatrick is gone,” he repeats with annoyance. “Shot down. No survivors.”

My senses cease and for a long moment, I can’t feel anything. No desert heat. No sounds. No scents. Just the blinding, white lights of rage filling my vision. “That’s not possible,” I finally say, refusing to believe it. I just saw him. He was here last night. I spoke to him. He can’t be
gone
.

Paxton laughs and my hands roll into fists. “No,
honey
,” he spits, “that’s
reality
. Now get out of here. I don’t have time to hold your hand after every broken nail.”

I lunge forward and I hear the shouts of others echo in my ears as I wrap my fingers around Paxton’s throat. His eyes grow wide with surprise and every bit of amusement drains from them as I squeeze.

“Fawn! Let go!”

They tug at me but I hold on tighter as my heart breaks into small pieces.

Fox.
The only friend I have in the world and this fucker tells me like
this
?

They finally yank me back and I raise my hands, surrendering to the strength of three men. They pull me away from him and Paxton’s fucking grin returns to his face.

“You’re lucky you’re out of here today, Fawn,” he smirks. “If you weren’t, I’d have to make quite the example out of you.” His eyes slide down my body and it’s easy to read the meaning dripping off his words.

I jerk my arms free from their grasp and spin away from him to leave the tent. A small crowd gathered behind us and I push through them, driven to distance myself as far away from this moment as possible.

“Caleb?”

I pause near the barracks, completely blanking on how I got here in the first place.

Boxcar reaches out for me and he studies my face, cupping it softly to hold it up. “Whoa—” He looks over my shoulder at the dispersing crowd across the camp. “What’s going on?”

I try to look him in the eyes but everything feels so heavy. Tears push through my throat, breaking through every attempt I make to hold them down.
“Fox
…” I whisper.

Boxcar pulls me out of the sun and guides me back into the barracks. “Caleb, what happened?” he asks. He stops us and holds my face again. “Look at me.”

His face blurs. My gaze wanders over his shoulder, landing directly on Fox’s empty cot. “Fox is gone…” I say it so softly even I can barely hear it.

It only takes a moment for Boxcar’s eyes to shift away from confusion. He pulls me closer, tightening his embrace around me without a care for what it might mean to others.

“It’s going to be okay, Caleb,” he whispers, his words stiff but powerful.

I shake my head, rejecting the very thought. “He…” My voice fails and I choke as tears fall from my eyes.

My knees give under me and Boxcar holds me tighter to guide me down to the floor. I cry into his chest and he repeats his words softly in my ear.

“It’s going to be okay, Caleb.”

Maybe someday I’ll believe that.

Chapter 19

Boxcar

Los Angeles

Present Day

If pissing off Caleb Fawn were an Olympic event, I’d take home gold every single time.

Naturally, when it came time to do it on purpose, things went exactly as expected. So much so, in fact, that I can barely even hide the victory smile attacking my lips.

I look down at her in my arms. She stares straight ahead out the windshield, watching as we roll closer and closer to Fox’s house. I nudge her chin to bring her face up to mine. The bright street lights pass by the windows, illuminating her already stunning face with orange light and they do the same to mine. There’s a quiet anger behind her eyes, obviously, but I flash her my token, cocky smile; a hidden smirk made just for her.

Caleb blinks at me with suspicion then her face finally falls and she gives me
that
look
.

What the hell did you do?

I tighten my arm around her and brush my lips against her forehead.

She looks up at me now with pride, annoyance, and a bit of fear. I don’t blame her at all. Obviously, I have a plan. She’s gathered that much from my silent eyes but she has no idea what that plan entails other than giving up the secret location of our most trusted ally.
Not the greatest of starts.

Then again, if Caleb and I were to adopt a motto — that’d be it.

Lilah stops the car in front of the black gate outside of Fox and Dani’s Hollywood mansion. She fires me a look through the rearview mirror and I give Caleb’s hand a decent squeeze before I get out to open it.

The sun sits just below the horizon and I blink for a moment when I realize the time. At this time yesterday, I was imagining a very, very different plans for my weekend. In the last twenty hours I’ve stolen a quarter of a million dollars from a billionaire pervert, ran away from two assassins, flew across the country, banged my estranged wife, broke into my friend’s house, befriended a bounty hunter, avoided torture, and I’ve done it all with little on my stomach other than cheap airline pretzels and imported booze.

Needless to say, my plans don’t usually go as anticipated.

Let’s hope this is the one that sticks.

I open the black gate and Lilah rolls the car inside, leaving me here to walk the rest of the driveway alone. I close the gate and scan the street outside, eying the other houselights on the street. Sure, strangers should mind their own business but a suspicious, prying eye might come in handy right now.

I pick up my pace and make it to the car as Lilah and Elijah slowly ease up the front steps.

“What’s the code?” Lilah asks, gazing at me over her shoulder.

I throw open the back door to gather Caleb and hide any tells that might give me away. “Uh… one-two-two-four-zero-eight.”

Caleb manages to push herself up out of the car with some of her own strength and I breathe of sigh of relief knowing that whatever the hell Elijah did to her wasn’t permanent. If this plan goes south, I may need her to back me up. She grips my jacket to keep steady and we spin around to find the twins staring at us from their spot on the stoop.

“What?” I ask.

“That code doesn’t work,” Lilah says.

“It doesn’t?”

She rolls her eyes. “No.”

Caleb and I walk slowly up the stairs and I tap the numbers in myself. The panel flashes a crimson red and I furrow my brow. “One-two-two-four-zero-eight,” I say aloud as my finger taps it in slowly. Again, the panel flashes red.

Elijah snatches my hand before I can type it again. “This panel wouldn’t happen to have an alarm function for multiple failures, would it?”

Dammit.

I pause. “Of course not.”

Lilah’s gun taps my cheek. “How about you get it right this time…
just in case
,” she warns.

“It’s zero-
seven
,” Caleb says.

I look down at her, still playing dumb. “Is it?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Lilah pokes my cheek a little harder. “I swear to God, I will shoot one of you.”

“Okay, okay—” I tap the numbers into the pad. “One-two-two-four-zero-
seven
.”

The panel shines green and the door clicks unlocked.

“Told you,” Caleb gloats.

I flash her a smile and adjust my arm around her to hold her close as we step inside the house. Elijah flicks on the first light switch, illuminating the dark entryway, along with the foyer and front hallway.

Caleb stays quiet as her eyes jut around, noticing the extreme lack of Dani’s presence on anything. The movie posters are gone, along with the picture frames that once littered the end tables.

“
This
is Fox’s house?” Lilah asks.

“Yep,” I answer. I lead them through to the living room and I let Caleb slip down onto the sofa next to a few throw pillows stacked by the arm.

Lilah pauses at the photo of us in the desert and she shrugs. “Seems a little strange for his tastes…”

“That would be the point, wouldn’t it?” I ask. “Why hide in the shadows when no one will expect you out in the open? Plus, it’s big and nice —” I pat the pillow next to Caleb’s shoulder. “Perfect for
special occasions
.”

Her eyes flick up at me and I flash a smooth smile, letting my hand linger a little longer on the pillow before I step away. I watch her slink closer to the pillows but she does nothing to draw any attention to herself as she inches her hand beneath them.

“Well…” Lilah lets out a thick sigh. “If this is Fox Fitzpatrick’s house, then where is Fox?”

I shrug. “Upstairs, probably.”

“And he didn’t come running when his front door opened?” Elijah asks. Lilah’s nose turns upward, no doubt smelling the exact same suspicious air.

“It’s a big house,” I say. “I’m sure Caleb comes and goes all the time, right? He’s used to it.”

Elijah eyes Caleb for a confirmation and she nods from the couch. “Well, how about you and Lilah go get him…” He steps closer to Caleb and plants the barrel of his gun against her head. “And I’ll stay here with her.”

Rage tickles at me. Caleb with a gun to her head has never been my favorite sight in the world but I have to keep my cool. I look at her and she gives me the most subtle of nods. “All right.” I gesture for Lilah to follow me. “Let’s go get Fox.”

I head towards the stairwell, training my ears to pinpoint Archer’s location. Any creak in the floorboards would be great right now but this house is way too perfect for any flaw. Even the stairs make no noise as Lilah and I walk up them. She pokes her gun into my side, just to remind me it’s there.

“Hey, Fox!” I announce as we reach the landing. I realize how unfamiliar I am with the layout of the place. I could go left or right but each direction gives me about a half dozen options for doors.

Lilah digs her gun in a little deeper, forcing me to choose left.

“Fox?” I ask again.

We keep walking and I push open the first door to peek inside.

As we pass, I feel a shadow brush through the open doorway.

“Hey, buddy.”

I bite my lip to keep from grinning at Archer’s horribly disguised voice and turn around to see a shotgun nestled against Lilah’s red head.

“Is that the
best
American accent you can do?” I ask.