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CARLOS: 911
“We need to stay here until Reggie calls back and we can arrange a handoff. We can’t risk taking it to the police department and it getting into the wrong hands.”
“Or them arresting us for possession with intent to distribute.”
“That too,” he said.
He checked out the studio’s setup. Thick metal door. Three deadbolt locks. No outside entrance. It wasn’t Fort Knox, but it was pretty damn secure. And if their luck held, no one had discovered that Mika had a new design studio. The realization jarred a memory loose.
“This afternoon, Roger mentioned that he’d heard you weren’t working out of your living room anymore. I thought you said no one knew you had the studio.”
“No one does.”
“So how would he know you weren’t working in your living room anymore if he hadn’t found that out himself when he broke in yesterday?”
“Roger is the mugger? No way.”
A mental side-by-side comparison said differently. “They’re the same size, same build, and if the muggings were all about retrieving the cocaine-tainted material, then he has motive.” Everything fell into place, all the more trustworthy because he wasn’t just following his gut. He had clues, and damn if they didn’t fit together. “Looks like you won’t be dating Captain Douchetastic after all this is over.”
Mika grabbed the back of his chair and spun it around so he faced her. “What are you talking about?”
“You were pretty convincing flirting with him this afternoon.” He clamped his mouth shut before anything else came out before he could filter it. Fuck. If he had a time-travel remote control, now would be the time to use it.
“Oh my God. What is your deal?” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I was helping. I think you need to find another line of work. This one has fucked you in the head. Not everyone is lying to you all the time.”
“It wasn’t the job that taught me that.” The words were out before he could stop them. He’d never talked about the reason for turning his back on his old life. He hadn’t thought twice about his decision—not until he met Mika. “Does the name Ivy Rhodes ring a bell?”
It had been a year since he’d said her name out loud. It tasted sour in his mouth.
“Yeah, she’s the supermodel who tried to kill that fashion blogger.”
His skin crawled as his nerves fired up all at once. Sitting still wasn’t an option. He had to move or implode. “Sylvie.”
“That’s right, she runs the High-Heeled Wonder site.”
He nodded and got up, rubbing his palm across the back of his neck as he strode to the large window. The sunset had turned everything gold and pink, but all he could see was red. “Ivy was Scarlett in Magic Battledome.”
Mika blinked rapidly several times. “Zephyr’s partner? She was with you at the gargoyle uprising. Players still talk about that. It’s legendary.”
The pain had gone from sharp slice to dull ache over the past year, but it was still there any time he thought of the battles he’d won with Scarlett while playing Magic Battledome online.
“You guys were together?” she asked.
That line between online world and real world had always been so clear to him, and then Ivy had appeared in his life and everything blurred. “I didn’t know it was her in the beginning. I was helping Tony investigate Sylvie’s stalker and Ivy was a person of interest. I went with him to talk to her. She let me take a look at her computer, and that’s when I realized she was Scarlett. I’d known her online for years before we’d ever met in person.”
The memory rushed over him like a toxic wave.
With data streaming across his laptop, Carlos was in his element. The others at Maltese Security may have the brawn, but when he flexed his brain, the pieces always came together. He’d find the missing byte floating out there on the grid and solve the case. Couldn’t be any easier than if he was on the Magic Battledome dunes with his partner, Scarlett, huntress of the night and the hottest warrior goddess in any role-playing online game.
The air shifted around him and a crisp grapefruit scent descended. A steaming cup of coffee appeared on the edge of his vision.
“I added a half shot of Red Bull.” Ivy placed the mug on the desk and curled into the chair next to him.
His thumb hit the wrong key. Act cool, man. She’s just a supermodel slash possible stalker and you’re…the short, geeky IT guy.
“Thanks.” He copied the set of numbers and plugged them into a finder program, then minimized it so it dropped into the task bar, revealing Ivy’s screen saver.
Carlos’s jaw hit the desk and his spine snapped straight. “Dios mío.”
