“I know you’ve all been waiting to hear who’ll be supporting us on stage for this last leg of the tour, and I’m pleased to finally announce, we’re playing alongside Rottenheim Twins and Yesterday’s Cascade!”
As he announces it, the two other bands leap onto the stage, grinning. I’ve heard of both, and I love a lot of Yesterday’s Cascade’s solo work, but my gut takes an uneasy turn at the sight of the twins.
Beautiful, leggy, with bright green hair for days, the Rottenheim Twins were relatively unheard of before they collaborated with Hazardous on one of their latest songs. The music video between the two women and the band was literal fire. At one point, the twins very nearly kissed both Slate and Arlo during the instrumental, which sent the rumour mills flying. Now they’ll be in close proximity to the band for months…
Are they seeing each other? I thought they were a little young for the guys—barely out of college—but this is show business, after all… Stranger things have happened between the rich and famous.
Suddenly, the very real possibility that I might be interfering by making myself known to the clan wiggles into my brain. I always assumed that Dodger wasn’t with anyone else, because he was so eager to take advantage when I was single. If they have girlfriends—which, given who they are, they probably do—then can I really just pop up in their lives?
What if I’ve been the other woman all along? Even if I wasn’t, a lot of women don’t like meeting their man’s female friends, and I don’t want to cause that kind of drama.
Looking at the grins on those beautiful girls’ faces, my stomach sinks, and I take out my phone to delete my last message.
I’m here for the Rosales brothers. I’ll take out my marks and free my clan from whatever blackmail they’re dealing with. After that, I’ll disappear.
“Both of them have agreed to give you all a little taste of what they’re bringing to the tour,” Slate finishes, grinning out into the crowd. “So give them all you’ve got.”
The two bands leave the stage, leaving the twins to grab their guitars and step up to the mics.
They’re good—not as good as Hazardous—but they certainly have a way with the crowd, and their enthusiasm is infectious.
I leave them, inching closer to where Miguel is slowly making his way out of the crowd and towards the doors. His phone is in his hand, and I grab mine. If he’s connected to the free Wi-Fi, that’s my in.
Public networks are a godsend. In a few swipes, I’m in the router’s DNS settings, and matching them to my own. All I need to do now is wait for that phone of his to reach out to the router, and I can redirect him to a fake site under my control, prompt him to download a file with a rootkit inside and bam, I have control of his phone.
It’s a bit of a blunt tool, and I’ll probably catch dozens of other fish in the net, but I’ll be able to discern his device from all the others when I start looking at his files and emails.
Once everything is set up, I’ll be a parasite in his system. He won’t be able to swipe right without me knowing about it.
“Ah, here she is!”
Sully’s voice distracts me, and I curse under my breath before turning on my heel and freezing. Panic chases my heartbeat into my ears, until it merges with the harsh bass coming through the speakers.
The entire band is there with him. This close, I can see that someone has lined the inside of their hoodies with red fabric, and the spotlights above filter through, making their faces look like they’re bathed in blood.
“So this is our pyro?”
Dodger’s voice breaks through the fuzz in my brain, and my cheeks warm. Did he really just call me that? And did I really just blush? His narrowed, almond-shaped eyes seem to pierce right through me as he gives me a slow once over.
No. Bad, Darcy. We are not doing this. No blushing, no giggling, definitely no flirting.
Unfortunately, my normal fall-back of acting like an airhead isn’t going to help me here. I don’t want to get fired, and theywillfire me if they think I can’t be trusted to handle the most dangerous part of their show. As it is, their eyes are tracing sceptically over the form-fitting lines of my dress.
"Nice to meet you,” I mumble instead, keeping my voice calculatedly quiet, so that the noise of the Rottenheim Twins drowns me out.
“This is David’s replacement?” Prophet demands, looking pissed. Those mismatched eyes, one ghost-blue, the other warm russet brown, are narrowed as he turns to my new boss. “Sully…”
“Her qualifications are just as good as David’s were, and Kenway says her background checks out.” The older man’s expression softens. “Look, we all miss him, kid, but after that shit he pulled, Darcy is who we’ve got.”
Note to self: find out what Man did to get my predecessor fired.
Slate steps forward, elbowing Prophet to the back of the group and offering me an easy smile. “Don’t mind the grump; he doesn’t mean anything by it.”
I scoff internally, and my expression sours slightly. It’s illogical, given he has no idea who I am, but I was hoping for one of his flirty Spanish nicknames.
I glance at Arlo, the only member of the band who hasn’t spoken, but his sunglasses make it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. He sticks to the back of the group, watching us all with his lips softly parted.
If this was our group chat, he’d have reached in to check in with me. But it seems real-life Arlo keeps his cards close to his chest.
