“Do you know how many times I’ve heard these stories, kid?”
I could practically hear the eye roll in Hopper’s voice over the phone. The steadily building pressure in my forehead threatened to erupt into a full-blown migraine from my frustration. I pinched the bridge of my nose and bit back the short retort trying to force its way out of my mouth. Hopper’s help was needed; if anyone could find something about the game, it’d be him. It would be extremely foolish to piss him off.
“Yes, I know,” I answered instead. “But still, this one might be different.” I picked up the pen sitting on the desk in front of me and tapped it against the wooden surface to release some agitation. “I really think there’s something going on here.”
A deep, put-upon sigh was his response. Over the phone connection, I could hear the squeak of his ancient computer chair as he moved around in it. He’d had the chair since he started college back in the late eighties. One night when we were working on a bug in a new game design I asked him why he didn’t replace it. His answer was it’d been good luck so far and his ass hadn’t hit the ground when he sat in it. He’d replace it when either of those two things changed.
Jackson Hopper was a creature of habit to his very core.
“Look, you and I both know video games can’t do what you’re talking about,” he muttered. The sharp taps over the phone told me he was typing on his keyboard and I smiled. Hopper never could back away from obscure video game issues. “I have some contacts, though. People I know from school and kept in touch with. Let me get hold of them, see what they can tell me.”
I narrowed my eyes and stopped fidgeting with the pen. “What kind of contacts?”
He snorted. “Not the kind you want sniffing around your computers, Nat. You’d probably end up on a watch list somewhere,” he said with a slight laugh.
The problem was, I had a feeling he wasn’t completely joking.
“Look,” I said, dropping the pen and waving my hand, “I do legitimate first-person shooter game research. So, there!”
He hummed a response and chuckled.
“I can’t help if I have to go to foreign sites and shady links to get information on how to make it accurate!” I paused and took a breath. “Hopper, do I need to scrub my machine?”
He was silent for a moment and then erupted in loud laughter. “Jesus, kid! Do you hear yourself? Calm down.” He took a second to get himself under control. “But I do know people you don’t really want to know about, so don’t ask questions. Okay?”
I blinked at his suddenly serious tone. “Yeah, okay, Hopper.”
“Now we have that out of the way, tell me all the info you have on this game. The more details, the better,” he said, typing away on his keyboard.
I passed on everything I knew about Potentiam and the company who created it. Granted, I didn’t know much and it was why Hopper had been my only option. Just as I was winding up the details, a thought crossed my mind. “I know the owner of the arcade, by the way. I went to school with him here.” I rubbed the side of my nose and continued. “He said he’d met you, got you to sign a poster for him.”
“Really?” he asked in surprise. “That’s strange. I didn’t know you knew anyone in Special Forces and Special Ops.”
It was my turn to be surprised. “What? I don’t.”
“Nat, whoever you’re talking about would have had to be in either of those. I’ve never signed posters except for a couple of teams I met when I was overseas in Afghanistan doing game research.” He paused and then asked, “What’s this guy’s name?”
“Paxton Taylor.”
“Huh.”
I shook my head in confusion. “What does ‘huh’ mean?”
“Just that,” he said. “I don’t remember any Taylors in those teams. The only Taylor I came across was a civilian working for the government; some ‘clandestine affairs’ thing. So, I’m not sure how your friend got my poster.”
“Well, it’s made out to him and it’s definitely your signature. I’ve only been staring at for almost five years,” I informed him.
“It’s not really relevant right now,” he said dismissively. “I’ve sent some messages out and if I hear anything, I’ll let you know. Probably won’t get a response until tomorrow sometime at the earliest.”
I knew from experience that was Hopper’s way of saying he was done talking on the phone. I thanked him and hung up, his words lingering in my mind. For some reason, I couldn’t shake the niggling feeling I’d just been given vital information.
The ringing of the phone yanked me out of sleep with no warning. I half sat up in the bed and looked around, confused, not understanding what was happening. Finally, the insistent trill of the song wriggled through my dazed mind and I realized what had snatched me from my slumber. I fumbled around, swearing, looking for the phone. My hand eventually brushed over the smooth glass surface of it from where it was buried inside the case of the pillow I’d been sleeping on.
I yanked it out and glared at the unfamiliar number displayed on the screen. Hitting the answer button with more force than necessary, I croaked out an irritated, “This better be life or death.”
“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine in the morning.”
I blinked for a moment, not understanding what had just been said. “I’m sorry. What?” I pushed a hand through the snarls of my hair in an effort to get it out of my face. “Who the hell is this?”
A soft chuckle echoed across the line. “You always this pleasant when you wake up?” the male voice asked. “Or is it special for me?”
“Okay, who is this?” I demanded, my voice hoarse from sleep. “Because unless it’s someone telling me I’ve won twenty million dollars and a trip to Bora Bora with Charlie Hunnam, I’m not interested.”
“Jax is your man, huh? At least now I know who my competition is.”
I scowled at the clock on the nightstand when I saw it was barely seven in the morning. “So, yeah, I’m hanging up now, whoever the hell this is. Now, fuck off and goodbye.” I went to hit the red hang up button when I heard the guy on the other end laugh and say something. With a huffed breath, I put the phone back up to my ear. “Jesus, what?”
“It’s Paxton, Nat! Man, you’re evil when you wake up in the morning.”
My befuddled mind couldn’t keep up with everything hitting me at once. “Wait, who is this?”
“Paxton. You know, the dude you went to high school with, had English with in junior year, wrote secrets notes about in your diary…” he said in amusement, his voice trailing off.
I flushed. “I did no such thing,” I denied. It was a lie; I had written notes.
He hummed a sarcastic agreement. “Sure. I bet they didn’t have little hearts all over them, either. Right?”
They totally did. But I’d rather have died than admit it. I settled on indignation instead. “You seem to have a very high opinion of yourself,” I said primly. A thought then occurred to me. “Hey! How did you even get my number? I never gave it to you.”
“I have my sources,” was his cryptic response. I wasn’t sure how to take it. But before I could say something, he continued on. “So, I was thinking—.”
“That’s probably dangerous,” I interrupted.
“Ha, ha,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I was thinking we could get together tonight. Maybe have dinner?”
My ability to form words fled. Paxton Taylor, high school sex god, wanted to take me out? The sad truth was, all previous concerns trickled out as I found myself wondering if I’d brought razors, did I have a decent outfit to wear and oh my God, did I think to bring any matching underwear sets? At that moment, I transformed from a competent, successful twenty-six-year-old woman back into an insecure, giddy teenager.
I’m fairly certain my feminine pride would writhe in humiliation a bit later on; right now, it was silently jumping up and down, squealing in high-pitched glee.
“Natalie? You there?”
I realized I hadn’t said anything and tried to answer him, only to squeak a hoarse sound. God, I sounded like a bullfrog. How attractive. I cleared my throat, swallowed and tried again.
“Hey, yeah. I’m here! So, when and where were you thinking about for this dinner?”
A rustling over the phone and a door closing told me he was moving around. “Well, I was thinking you could meet me at the arcade at around six tonight? My assistant manager will be in by then and I can leave the store. Does that work?” I heard keys and the sound of another door opening and closing, telling me he was getting into his car.
“It sounds like a plan,” I all but shouted, then winced at how it must have sounded. “See you then!” I hung up the phone before I could embarrass myself more than I already had.
It wasn’t until I was in the shower—after having given up going back to sleep—that I realized he’d never told me how he’d got my number…
I pulled up in the parking lot of the arcade and stared in trepidation. I’d had to pull over for several ambulances and police cars on my way to meet with Paxton. It was an unpleasant surprise to arrive and find they’d been going to the same place I was.
I parked my car in one of the few available spots left and got out, making sure to lock the doors. The activity and noise levels were borderline chaotic as emergency workers rushed back and forth from the vehicles and the building. A dark cloud of foreboding began to creep over me. Something bad had happened here; something very bad.
I was so caught up in avoiding being stampeded by the first responders I didn’t first notice someone trying to get attention. I jumped when someone touched my arm, not expecting the touch. Confused, I whipped around and found one of the paramedics standing beside me. Seeing she had my attention, she pointed toward one the police cars parked near the edge end of the building. Still not sure exactly what the woman was trying to tell me, I gave a helpless wave while shaking my head. She then leaned closer and shouted to be heard above the racket, “I think the girl over there is trying to get your attention!”
I gaped at her for a second before turning to look more closely. I felt faint when I saw my little sister sitting in the back seat of the cruiser, it’s lights flashing garishly under the evening sky. All sound began to fade and everything seemed to narrow in on the scene in front of me, my heart pounding loudly in my ears, when I saw she had what appeared to be blood on her shirt.
I wasn’t even aware I’d started racing to her until my path was abruptly blocked by one of the officers on the scene. I could hear Jenny crying out to me, but couldn’t understand what she was saying. Frantic, I tried to push past the cop in my way, but he was like a stone wall in front of me.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you past,” he told me firmly, his jaw set and shoulders tense.
I looked at him in shock. “What?” I pointed to Jenny, my hand shaking. “But, that’s my little sister!” I cried. My weight shifted as I made to move past him. My eyes narrowed in warning when he continued to block me. “It’d be in your best interest to let me go to her,” I warned.
He eyed me for a moment before keying the radio microphone clipped on the shoulder of his uniform. Caught up in my worry, I didn’t hear what was being said. It wasn’t until he gave a short whistle that my attention returned to him. I looked at him with raised eyebrows while I chewed on my thumb nail in agitation.
He nodded and gestured toward the car where my sister sat. “You can go through; the Lieutenant gave his okay.”
I heaved a sigh of relief and sent a silent thanks to whomever worked in my favor at the moment. With a quick grimace of a smile to the officer, I rushed over to Jenny. My heart raced in fear when I saw it was in fact blood all over her shirt as I got closer to her. I skidded to a halt in front of the open rear passenger door, out of breath and shaking.
“Jesus, Jenny! Are you okay?” I shouted. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
My sister looked at me in silence before suddenly bursting into tears and launching herself at me. My arms wrapped around her without thought and I hugged her close, grateful she was okay even though I wasn’t sure what had taken place. I could hear her trying to say something, but she was crying too hard for me to be able to make it out. I looked over at the police officer standing with us helplessly.
“What in the hell’s happened?” I demanded. “Why is my sister covered in blood?”
The man sighed and grimaced as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m Lieutenant Daniels,” he said by way of introduction. “About fifteen minutes ago we were notified by your sister here of an altercation taking place. She’d called 911.” He looked back over his shoulder at the arcade entrance where the paramedics were rushing back and forth. “When we got here, things had escalated and were out of control.”
I stared at him, not understanding anything he was telling me. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Apparently a disagreement over a game play turn took place and one of the customers inside stabbed another one of the players,” he explained.
A coldness seemed to fall over me and I pulled back from my sister. “Jenny? What happened?”
She sniffled loudly and took a hiccupping breath. “It was Oliver, Nat. I don’t…God, I think he killed Niall!” she exclaimed, dissolving into tears once again. “There was so much blood! All Niall did was grab his shoulder to get a turn on the game,” she said between sobbing breaths.
I looked at the lieutenant sharply, alarmed. “Is that true?”
He nodded before waving a hand at Jenny. “When we got here, we found your sister trying to apply pressure to the victim’s wounds. The perpetrator had left the scene when he was informed the authorities had been called.” He paused and glanced down at my sister huddled in my arms. “He’s considered armed and dangerous. We have an All Points out for him.”
“Should we be worried? Do you think he’ll come after Jenny?” I clutched her tighter to me. “What about Niall? Is he okay?”
Lieutenant Daniels thinned his lips as he gave a shrug. “Honestly, we’re not sure what to think in regards to your sister. But we’re going to err on the side of caution and assign a detail to her for now until Oliver Barrow is apprehended.” He crouched down next to us and flashed her a small smile. “It’ll be okay, we’ll get him.”
I frowned, noticing he hadn’t mentioned Niall. “What about Niall? Is he okay?”
The lieutenant met my eyes with a steady gaze, telling me everything I needed to know. His words, however, were non-committal. “We’re waiting to hear word on the victim’s condition now. At this point, we aren’t sure of the seriousness of his injuries.”
I stared at him, hearing what he wasn’t saying out loud; Niall’s condition wasn’t good.
I breathed in deep, trying to gather myself together. “All right, what do you need from us?” I pushed back on Jenny’s shoulders and got her to look up at me. “Do Mom and Dad know yet?”
She shook her head. “No. It all happened so fast, I just couldn’t…” she trailed off and swallowed hard. “The only thing I could think of was trying to help Niall.”
I nodded and turned to the lieutenant. “Does she need to go to the station and make a statement or anything?”
He stood up and my gaze followed him. I watched as he waved over another officer. When the officer was beside him, he leaned in and spoke in a low voice. The officer nodded several times before stepping away and speaking into his radio mic. The lieutenant returned his attention to us. “We do need you to come to the station and wait there for your parents. Once they arrive, we’ll discuss our next steps.” He stopped and turned to the other officer with a raised brow. At the other man’s nod, he continued on. “Officer Kenton here will escort you to the station. If you need anything, let him know and he’ll do his best to accommodate you.”
I nodded and helped Jenny up and back into the cruiser. She wouldn’t let me go and there was no choice but to settle into the seat next to her. Officer Kenton closed our door and got into the driver’s seat, updating the dispatch team as he did so. After getting permission to leave the scene, we started to pull away from the parking lot. My gaze roamed over the bustle of activity and suddenly fell on a familiar face. My eyes widened as I took in the scene in disbelief.
Paxton Taylor was standing outside the arcade, talking to the police…and several men wearing dark suits stood next to him, faces grim, with metal briefcases at their feet.