Rora got out of her morning shower and wrapped herself in a towel. When she turned to wipe the steam from the mirror, she froze at the sight of what was on the vanity waiting for her.

A cupcake.

Her lips parted to let more air enter her tightening lungs. She looked around the small room but was definitely alone. That bastard! He had no honor, no decency, no morals. She didn’t know who she was madder at, him for invading her personal space or herself for not realizing he would.

Snatching the cupcake, she tore the sponge to pieces to toss it down the toilet, having no intentions of eating something that could be tainted. She flushed, happy to wave goodbye to her smug ex’s intrusion.

Just as she was about to ball up the paper case, she noticed something drawn on the inside. Inspecting it more closely, she read a street name, a marker of where Apocalypse was, and an X marking a spot further down.

With the paper still in her hand, she left the bathroom, scrutinizing the map and wondering if Junker was back with breakfast yet. She didn’t expect to find Strike sitting on the couch, watching the video feed of the streets around them, a take-out coffee cup perched on one knee, his palm flat on the other.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed and ran over to put herself in front of him. “Strike!”

“Brought you coffee,” he said, holding up the cup and then leaning forward to perch it on the edge of the table. “You’re snarky without it.”

His palm slid to his thigh, and she noted the picture she’d taken from the loft was beneath his fingers. But she didn’t have time to think about what that meant.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “You have to get up! You have to go! Junker will be back any second!”

Strike just blinked. “You think I’m afraid of him?” he asked, lifting his arm out of her grip and tucking the picture into his pocket.

She’d only managed to get him as far as the end of the couch, but it was enough to allow her to get behind him to start pushing him toward the door. “You might not be afraid, but you shouldn’t be in our personal space looking at our stuff!”

He scoffed and turned away from her pushing hands to face her. “You’re smart enough to know Opal and I have been monitoring your feeds. Do you think it’s hard for me to miss a spike like this? Intercepting it is nothing. Your bitch doesn’t know how to mask his signature, not enough to fool me anyway. Do you know the kind of power this pulls from the grid? The bandwidth he’s using? His setup is so crude it’s amateur. But maybe I should thank the square, he saved me a lot of legwork.”

Surrendering to the fact he’d do nothing against his will, and that the damage was done, Rora exhaled. “Strike,” she said, putting her hands to her hips. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

“We need to get our plan straight.”

That was shocking enough to bring her up short. “We?” she asked, her eyes widening. “We? Are you high? There’s no we!”

But as was typical of him, he ignored her objection. “You only have to remember three things,” he said, carrying on like she hadn’t just basically laughed in his face. “One, you need a gun.”

He pulled something out of his pocket and she was surprised to see a pistol in a small ankle holster. “What is that? I don’t want that!”

But he took her wrist and turned her hand over to slap the gun onto her palm. He kept his hand over the weapon, pressing it down. “You point this at my head, not yours. I don’t want any repeat of Wonderland. Remember, you had your one.”

Rora tried to tug her hand away, but he kept hold of her for a second before lifting both of his hands, leaving her with the weapon. “Strike!” He was so frustrating.

Why wasn’t he mad at her? Why wasn’t he trying to kill her? Was this a case of mutual destruction or was he expecting her to give up the real Point? It could be more manipulation. Maybe he’d got past anger and decided to manipulate her feelings for him to get what he wanted, just like he’d done the first time they were together.

“You had your chance to do that once, you didn’t take it.”

She gritted her teeth, filled with frustration and anger. “I was in love with you,” she hissed. His hand rose like he intended to touch her face, but she stepped back. “I got over that.”

A second of… something, passed between them, but he let it go to continue. “Two, take Opal.” Fresh shock made her forget what had come before. “Hold the gun to my head, and take Opal… Try not to shoot Bella; I’ll take care of her.”

Rora knew how infuriating this man could be. She’d been dismissed by him in the past; he was used to being in control. But his attitude still aggravated her. “You can’t be serious.”

“Let your bitch say whatever he has to say, pull the gun, take Opal. The last thing’s the most important, follow the map, meet me at midnight.”

“Midnight?” she said, confused. “Strike, what game are we playing?”

Stepping in close, he trailed a fingertip along the top edge of her towel over her breast. “Kiss chase and I get to pick where I want your mouth when I win.”

Rora slapped his hand from her body. “You’re touching me.”

“Get used to it,” he said and winked. “Get dressed before your bitch comes back. I don’t want him seeing you like this.”

Strike started for the door. “He won’t care about seeing me in a towel when he’s already seen me naked.”

It was probably petty of her to state that just to get a reaction, but she enjoyed seeing him tense up. Strike paused at the door and met her eye, his gaze cooled to a spiteful anger until his jaw ticked. When she saw that, she grinned and folded her arms, daring him to start a fight with her.

But he didn’t say anything else, his chin just moved like he was grinding his teeth, then he turned and walked out, leaving her with a gun she’d have to hide from Junker and a map she didn’t know if she’d follow.

 

 

“You’re ready for this?” Rora said, peeking up at Junker. “Right?”

They’d reserved a private conference room at Bella’s hotel and chosen to arrive early. Ascending the stairs that led from the lobby to the mezzanine floor above, they sought the room marked ‘three.’

Junker seemed relaxed. His ease was making her kind of edgy because she was anything but calm.

“I’m ready, Aurora,” he said and smiled at her. “Are you ready?”

To be in a room with the woman who’d held her captive and tortured her? To sit at the same table with the man who’d shattered her heart and now seemed to be playing with her?

Junker put a hand on room three’s door handle and the other on her hip to direct her in front of him.

“Not even slightly,” she murmured, but put her hand on his to push the handle down.

On entering the room, she did her best to project confidence. The small space contained an oval walnut table, surrounded by six chairs, three on each side. That was it, other than a fake plant in the corner and a Monet print on the wall. No cameras, no windows, no escape.

She and Junker weren’t the only ones who’d decided to arrive early. Strike and Bella were already seated at the table, side-by-side.

Both of them stood up when Rora and Junker came to a stop just inside the closed door.

“Duckie!” Bella exclaimed and opened her arms.

But when Bella started around the table toward them, Junker put himself in front of Rora. “Keep your distance.”

“Aww, he’s possessive,” Bella said, sounding like her lip was out in a pout. “We’re all friends, everyone has to share… We will be the closest of friends. My Arousing Aurora is not afraid; there is nothing to be afraid of.”

“She’s afraid of imprisonment and torture,” Junker said.

“Unfortunately, our wonderful prince has forbidden me from restraining or intoxicating my duckie tonight. But there are other forms of play. We three have a special affinity that cannot be restrained or denied. You may be allowed to join us, if our prince agrees to share us with you. But you cannot keep us apart.”

“I promised to keep her safe.”

Rora was afraid to look at Strike for fear he might choose to challenge the other male near Bella, who he considered his turf. She’d never heard Junker this tense before, and knew she’d have to diffuse this strain fast.

Sliding a hand down his arm, Rora got his attention. “It’s ok,” she murmured. “I’m ok.”

Taking his hand, she led him over to their side of the table and all four of them sat down at the same time. Opal was at the head of the table, and after glancing at the laptop, she lifted her attention to Strike to find his on her. That mind, whatever was in it, he was keeping it to himself.

“We thank you both for coming,” Junker said. Bella grinned, and Strike nodded once. “I’m sure you know why we’re here.”

“This is a waste of time,” Strike muttered.

Bella laid her hands on the table. “Meeting down here is silly, we should go upstairs. I have a huge suite… and a beautiful bed.”

Rora could only feel bad for Junker who didn’t follow why Bella would make such a random statement. He didn’t understand the woman, not that many could claim to. It wasn’t so long ago that Rora had been the one in Junker’s oblivious position.

“I… uh—”

Bella’s sultry attention drifted to her. “Did you miss me, duckie? Shall I read you a story?”

Bella circled her lips and put a hand on Strike’s shoulder, letting it slide across his chest to the opposite one so she was draped on him. “We could share his torment.”

Blinking her attention to Strike’s cool gaze, Rora thought about inflicting pain on the man who’d betrayed her, and smiled, keeping her lips tight. “I’m not averse to that idea. Strip him and string him up.”

Squealing, Bella surged to her feet. But Strike seized her wrist and yanked her back into her seat. “You didn’t come here to fuck around with games,” Strike said, focusing on Junker. “What do you want, Square? The Jewel? You can have her. I don’t give a fuck about that one.”

Rora didn’t read anything into the brief look Strike cast in her direction and turned her own attention to Junker. Letting Strike play any more with her already messed up head would be a recipe for disaster.

“Something you learned from her I guess,” Strike said to her horror. “This one seems so nice and… suburban, Kero… Just your type… like Gallagher.”

“Don’t talk about Benjamin,” she growled, infused with a fresh surge of fury.

“Suburban isn’t my typical type,” Bella said, probably not seeing the venom spitting between Rora and Strike. “But I like trying new things. Is that why we’re here? To try each other?”

“We’re here because,” Junker started and stopped to clear his throat. “Because I want to appeal to your decency.”

After a second of silence, Strike and Bella looked at each other. Strike slapped a hand on the table as Bella tossed her head back in a hearty laugh. Deflated, Rora didn’t like their mocking, but she’d expected it.

“Decency?” Bella asked. “What’s that?”

Strike nodded at Rora. “I bartered mine to her.”

Ignoring him, Rora leaned toward Junker. “I told you. This is a lost cause.”

“I don’t believe in those,” Junker said, giving her no choice but to flop back in her chair. “What you’re planning, Exile, whatever it is, you have to understand what it could do to the world.”

“I understand just fine,” Strike said, locking his fingers together on the table.

“And you’re… you’ll sacrifice every other person in the world for your own benefit?” Junker asked.

It was sweet that Junker seemed unable to fathom Strike’s position. Putting a hand on his forearm, Rora wanted to comfort him.

“Might spare one or two people… maybe,” Strike said.

“I can’t let you do it,” Junker said. “Whatever you’re planning, I’ll figure it out and stop it.”

“Figure it out?” Strike asked, his eyes drifted to her and he raised his brows. “Finally learning how to play the game, Ro?” This time, his gaze was more intense. She sucked her lip into her mouth, chewing on it hard. “Don’t be nervous, just do it.”

“Do it?” Junker asked, confused. “Do what?”

Confident, Strike didn’t flinch. “If there was one thing I taught her, it was the power of contingencies. Whatever you’ve got going on Redd, it’s not working,” Strike said, leaning a fraction closer to her. “It’s down to you. Are you gonna make me proud, Kero?”

Sucking a breath through her nose, she didn’t want to be his pawn, but couldn’t deny that separating him from Opal would give her side an advantage. Raising her knee beneath the table, she reached down to slide the gun from her ankle holster.

Pouncing to her feet, Rora pointed the gun at him. “Don’t move,” she said.

Strike just sank back in his chair, his back straight. He played his part well, appearing unimpressed, though unruffled.

“Oooh, a twist,” Bella purred. “Do it, shoot him, duckie… We’ll play with him as he bleeds.”

Tempted as she was, Rora wasn’t intending to shoot Strike, not as long as he stayed there on his side of the table.

“Get up, Junker, go,” she said to him, grabbing at his jacket to urge him from his seat.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaping up.

Rora pushed him toward the door. “What needs to be done.”

But instead of following, she moved up the table and bent over to snag Opal. Still playing his part, Strike chose that moment to lose his ease. Even though they’d both known this was his plan, Rora still got a weird sense of satisfaction when Strike sat upright and laid both open hands on the table like he was pissed and caught off-guard.

“There’s nowhere you can hide from me,” her ex hissed. “I’ll always be hiding somewhere close by, ready to pounce.”

“Peek-a-boo,” Bella said and laughed, but lounged against the rigid Strike. “She is so sexy when she’s threatening you, prince. I want to watch you hurt her. Can I? Can I watch?”

Edging toward the door, Rora kept the gun trained on Strike, believing him to be the greatest threat. Besides, if she pointed the gun at Bella, Rora didn’t trust herself not to shoot. One side step, another, and then she was almost at the door. Junker opened it and gestured her out.

“You bitch,” Strike growled.

“Guess this bad is beyond even you,” Rora said, lifting the gun and running out.

Hiding the weapon behind the computer she clutched to her chest, Rora only cast her eyes upward once they were halfway across the lobby. Strike stood on the mezzanine, glaring down at her with Bella at his side.

Junker put an arm around her. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

The lobby was crowded, so Junker probably thought it gave them cover to get out, thinking Strike wouldn’t hurt them in view of this many witnesses. But this was Strike’s plan, though she didn’t understand it yet, he wasn’t coming after them.

All the way back to their hotel, Junker was looking over their shoulder. But she knew better. Strike didn’t want to follow them, he knew where they were sleeping. He could pursue them any time he wanted to. The night had played out just as he’d instructed her it should.

Rora might resent herself for following his plan, if she didn’t hope that Strike had just given them exactly what they were looking for. If the DARPA device was in Opal, then this could be over for Junker and he’d be out of danger.

As soon as they got inside their hotel room, Rora went to the coffee table and turned Opal upside down. “I need a screwdriver,” she said, stroking the underside of the laptop.

“What? Why?”

There was too much adrenaline still in her system. Her fingertips were trembling. “Just get me a damn screwdriver!” she hollered.

Although taken aback, Junker jumped into action and retrieved his tools for her, then sat to watch her work. A discomforting sensation of violation hung deep in her gut when she began to unscrew a panel on the bottom of the machine. It took her a minute to carefully remove all the screws.

Rora held her breath when she popped off the panel and… “Damnit,” she said and sank back to sit on her feet.

“What?” he asked. “What is it?”

“He took it out.” Slamming a hand on the table, everything jumped, and she leaped to her feet to pace away. “The bastard! Why the hell would he…”

“What? What did he take out?”

Turning to face Junker, she saw the open look on his face and decided to give him a little more of her trust. “The top-secret tech that you want to take from him, he did install it in his computer… I know because… I saw him do it.”

It took a minute for his expression to catch up with his thoughts. “You…” He got up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She wanted to tell him she had a complicated reason, but she didn’t. It was trust. Nothing more. The shock of clarity left his face in time with the anger that struck him. “What the hell else haven’t you told me?”

He was entitled to be mad. So far as she knew, Junker had always been honest with her, and she hadn’t confessed even an ounce of what she truly knew. Maybe it was that knowledge that urged her to make another hard confession.

“I was the willing civilian,” she said and sighed. “Exile didn’t tell me anything about the meeting before we got there. But I was the one who took the device from the government official… not that I knew that’s who he was at first.” She dipped her chin. “If I had, I might not have bit him so hard.”

“Shit,” Junker breathed out, putting a hand on his chest. “You’ve seen it?” She nodded. “And you thought it was in the computer, that’s why you took it?”

Yes, that was why she’d taken Opal. Strike would believe it was because he’d told her to, but she wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t believed it would be in her side’s best interest. Rora was trying to figure this out one step at a time and making the right choices wasn’t easy.

Dropping onto her knees, she cupped the open panel on the back of the computer. “He took it out.”

Junker sighed. “He might have considered that leaving it in his primary terminal was too obvious,” he said, coming to sit in the armchair at the top of the coffee table.

“He’s a bastard,” she said, calming herself before picking up the metal plate she’d taken from Opal. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“What are you apologizing to me for?” Junker asked. Focusing on the task at hand, she didn’t want to admit she’d actually been apologizing to Opal. “I can do that if—”

“No,” she said, replacing the screws. “I want to.”

He leaned forward to stroke her shoulders. “You’ve got a bullseye on you now,” he said. “You told me not to touch his computer and then you went and stole it. He won’t be happy.”

There was a hint of pride beneath his concerned smile. “I had to do something,” she said. “Exile was never going to listen to you and I couldn’t listen to their mocking anymore… Why did he call you Redd?”

“It’s my last name,” Junker said, flopping his arms on the arms of the chair. “Guess he wanted to let me know he was investigating me.”

“Like we didn’t know that already,” she said, turning Opal over when she was done. Smoothing her hands over the lid, it was odd to feel so protective of this hunk of metal as Bella had once called it. “I guess we can give it back… maybe he’ll forgive and forget.”

“Do you think so?”

Pushing her lips to one side, she shrugged, and got up to go over to the fridge. “I say this night calls for a drink. Might be my last chance to have one. What do you say?”

The whiskey bottle was on top of the fridge and she chose the hard liquor tonight.

“I don’t know,” Junker said, and she thought he meant the alcohol. “Maybe there’s something of use on the machine.”

“No!” she called, spinning around to see his fingers hovering just an inch above the keys. “Don’t touch that.”

With the whiskey bottle in one hand, she rushed over to him and slapped Opal shut. “What? There could be something on here that we can use. Something that will give us a lead on where he might have put the device, or what he plans to do with Benjamin’s work.”

“You can’t,” she said, stroking Opal’s lid. “If you touch her, she’ll hurt you… She might kill you.”

“She?” he asked, squinting at her like she might have lost her marbles. “You give computers a gender?”

Not her, Strike, but Rora wasn’t going to admit that she knew the name of his machine. “Just… don’t open her, don’t touch her. Trust me, it hurts like a motherfucker.”

He was surprised, either by her language or the revelation of her experience. “The computer injured you?”

“More than that,” she said. “If she doesn’t kill you, she’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

Sliding back in the seat, he rubbed the arms. “Is that what you meant about protecting technology without hiding it?” She shrugged. “Exile wasn’t wrong about contingencies, was he?”

Junker’s opinion of Exile was evolving, just as hers had once. “You don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed,” she said, rising onto the couch and taking Opal with her. “I know. That’s kind of how I felt about it.”

“Why would he… that’s really how he protects his tech?”

“His laptop anyway,” she said, noticing the time on the wall clock.

“How does it work?”

Even if Strike had wasted his time telling her, she’d never have understood what he was saying. “Damned if I know,” she said. “Let’s have a drink and get an early night. You take the bed tonight.”

“No, I don’t have—”

“It’s ok,” she said. “You need your rest.”

Rora had no idea what she was going to do later, but she had so many questions without any chance for answers unless she took a risk. It was a hell of a risk to take, but at this point, she had nothing left to lose.