Chapter Two

Vivi

The sun was high up in the sky and shining bright as I peeked through the blinds of my hotel room. I was high up enough that I didn’t need to peek but being on edge didn’t just go away because I’d checked into a luxury hotel in the flashiest city in the whole damn country. It was still hard to believe that I’d finally set eyes on Jeremiah after all these years.

He wasn’t quite how I pictured him. He was bigger and taller than I imagined, even when I added on a decade for age and life. His skin was dark and smooth, like mahogany silk and I bet it was just as soft to the touch. But Jeremiah had more muscles than I imagined a computer geek having. But, then again, I’d never imagined him as a solider or a biker.

I only wished it hadn’t taken a shit show of the highest order to finally get me to reach out to him.

But right now the shit show had to take precedence above all else because there was someone—at least one someone—who wanted me dead. This wasn’t your typical, I’m gonna kill you kind of death threat. I was used to those.

As a cyber security expert, and a woman, there was always that guy who got pissed when you breached his unbreachable wall or found the hidden, double encrypted folder he thought he was clever enough to hide in a partition. They always got pissed and then assured me that I’d regret it. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to regret.

This though, this was something different that stemmed from a pretty routine job. I worked with people with the most secrets to hide, massive international corporations. I hated them all, but they paid well to make sure no one could get into their secrets and tell the world. And on occasion I took some fun work just to keep life interesting. My latest was a routine deep dive for a government agency that shall not be named. They gave me the data to sort, clean and back up redundantly before I handed it over in exchange for a big fat … bank transfer. Didn’t have the same ring to it as check but the zeroes were fat enough for a clean getaway.

Like this one.

I’d been sorting and cleaning when I came upon a few photos that some asset whose name I didn’t know had somehow gotten access to and handed over to a handler—whom I knew—but called Bob. And since Bob was a woman, I was pretty sure that was an alias.

Riding from New York to Vegas on my Suzuki V-Strom had given me a lot of time to think about what I’d seen. Given the quality of the break-in that sent me running, it was down to the governor with the underage side piece or the snitching drug lord who met frequently with suits too ugly and cheap to be anything but Feds.

The break-in at my New York apartment was a pro job. Not so good that I didn’t detect it but good enough that someone less paranoid than me might miss the telltale signs. But now as I logged into the camera I’d set up when I started taking off-the-books work for the government—my paranoia at work—I wondered if it was as bad as I made it out to be in my head. But as soon as the feed came to life, I knew that I hadn’t. Not only was I not prone to overreacting but I prided myself for being levelheaded.

The decoy electronics I’d left behind, including a laptop, digital camera, a handful of flash drives and a virus-ridden external hard drive, were all missing. I eagerly rewound the footage to see who I’d be spying on later. My money was on the governor because I assumed a drug kingpin would just blow up the whole building to be safe. Those guys never worried about innocent bystanders; they dealt in certainty.

I think.

Going back twelve hours in the footage, I spotted an unfamiliar face. White male, approximately thirty with a bald head and a hint of a tattoo on one hand. Otherwise, he was unidentifiable.

I captured the image and sent it off to one of my sources. I knew it would be the best way to identify him. My source and I were close, but not like friends. It didn’t matter. People like me didn’t need friends, not when I was buried in a task like pulling up remote access on the decoy devices so I could see who had them and maybe even where they were. I’d made extra certain that the person who grabbed the devices would feel safe. The devices hadn’t been turned on, but I’d be alerted when they were.

Another task done, and I looked toward the window again, desperate for a few hours in the sunshine. Maybe poolside. But my life didn’t stop just because I was in danger. I had a couple of private clients I needed to focus on, especially if this current shit show put my security clearance in danger. It was easy work, just doing a regular sweep of the security footage to make sure none of his employees were stealing. It was a pretty solitary life and transferred just as well to a transient one, which made working on the run a cinch.

But even cynical hermits like me got hungry so I put on some clothes and went in search of food. It was early evening and I still hadn’t heard form Jeremiah so it was safe to assume I probably wouldn’t. Not that I could blame him. We were strangers to one another after all this time and if he had shown up on my doorstep, I might not have been as welcoming. In fact, I might have been damned hostile if some strange man came knocking asking for a favor. And it looked like Jeremiah and his friends had enough trouble of their own.

***

As I dug into my steak burger and herbed fries, I grew frustrated with myself. Sure this would probably go a lot smoother if I could combine Jeremiah’s computer skills with my own, but I didn’t need him. I could do this without him and without getting myself killed, so why in the hell was I waiting around for him?

I paid the check and went back to my room. It was time to fight back and for a girl like me that meant gathering intel. People left all kinds of shit about themselves out in the world, particularly on the Internet, especially politicians eager to prove they were as normal as the average Joe.

They rarely were, and I knew Governor Blaise of Florida was far from what his voters might consider normal. Bank statements, web browsing history, photo searches and reverse photo searches yielded plenty of information. And that was the easy part.

Cell phone data was even easier, but my favorite source was the credit agencies. They had shitty security and they made it easy to get in, grab what I needed and get the fuck out before anyone even knew I’d been there. It was so easy it made me think of the black hats I knew who pulled in more cash for one job than I sometimes cleared all year. If I was into it, I’d be a very rich woman.

Instead, I was caught up with some bullshit that was bound to get me killed.

***

“There’s no need to pay it all today, Miss. I’m sure we could get you financing with favorable rates.” This guy was my second least favorite guy on the planet, the one who flashed that smarmy smile while trying to convince me he wasn’t screwing me over.

“How about I pay cash in full today and you knock a few grand off the top?” He wasn’t the only one who could negotiate, but I was much better at it.

“That’s not going to happen. My boss won’t go for it.” Steepled hands and dimpled smile meant to disarm me only put me more on alert.

“Then get him in here and let me explain how this works, Kyle.” I was annoyed and though it wasn’t all his fault, it was enough of his fault that I felt no guilt about taking it all out on him. I’d been in Vegas for two days now and Jeremiah hadn’t reached out, which meant I was wrong about him. And I hated being wrong. “Please. Look I want to buy this camper and drive it off the lot today, but your price is too high and there are at least three thousand miles on it already.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Kyle left me alone, probably called me a few bitches under his breath while he either wasted time or actually went to get approval from his boss.

It gave me time to think, something I’d been doing a lot of lately.

As a kid, Jeremiah would have jumped right into the middle of things to help me out, but this older, buffer, military-biker Jeremiah? A totally different man altogether. And when I woke up that morning, I knew I was on my own. So I’d put my bike in a storage facility and took a bus to Sahara where there were dozens of car dealerships. If this Kyle character couldn’t get me a deal, someone else would.

I had plenty of cash and I was ready to go off the grid. At least by all appearances. By the time Kyle returned with the paperwork and the sale was complete—five thousand dollars cheaper—I was tired, hungry and ready to settle in for the night. But I needed provisions so I could stay low-key for a while.

Armed with a brand new to me 2018 Winnebago Spirit camper, I drove to the nearest grocery store and stocked up on pretzels, chips, mustard and diet root beer, snacks I’d eaten since I was a kid. With my router and a parking pass at one of the casinos on the old part of the Strip, I was ready to get to work.

***

I set my laptop on the dinette, opened it up to connect to the encrypted voice chat and grabbed a root beer.

“Hey babe, whatcha got for me?”

I smiled at my friend Peaches and her over the top greeting. “Hey Peaches, did you get that photo?”

“Sure did. It’s going through a face recognition query as we speak but there aren’t enough points of comparison and that photo is grainy as shit. But I have a guy looking into that ink on his hand. Too bad it’s just a partial. Got any extra footage for me?”

I wanted like hell to give it to her, but I couldn’t. “It’s best for all of us if no one else sees that image.”

Peaches went quiet, deadly so. “Damn girl, what are you into? I thought you didn’t fuck with that black hat shit.”

“I don’t. It’s just … fucked up for now. I’m offline but you can find me in the usual ways.”

“Stay safe, babe. Love ya.”

“Back atcha, Peach.”

If there was anyone in this world I considered a friend, it was Peaches. We met as cocky sixteen year olds with massive chips on our leather clad shoulders, assigned to do community service teaching old people how to use computers. She’d hacked into her girlfriend’s computer, at least that was the story she told. The rest of the story, the real part, was that her girlfriend was the Deputy Headmistress of her private school. I was there for giving a few nasty bullies lower grades, but the school called it hacking. Semantics.

I needed to keep Peaches as clear of this as possible. Given what I saw at Jeremiah’s place I probably shouldn’t involve him either.

That meant I didn’t need to stay in Vegas proper. I could find a more remote campsite. With privacy. And one exit.

The first thing I would do as soon as I got settled? Look into Jeremiah and his club.

Just in case.