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“What’s it going to be, sweetheart?” I asked, focusing on my girl.
“I think we should have a Speed Connect Four tournament, and then maybe a group game?”
“I’m game,” Asa said, then laughed at his unintentional joke. Settling down on the couch, I faced off my opponent, who happened to be Fin first.
“No cheating, sweetheart.”
“I’d never!” she exclaimed, but smiled, lifting only the corner of her mouth. Laughing, I placed my red piece into a slot, and she followed quickly. Over the next few seconds, we both put tokens into the spaces, trying to find our way to four.
“Ah!” one of the guys said next to us, but I didn’t look away, needing to focus on beating Finley. She leaned forward, her shirt dipping a little to show her cleavage. I knew it was a ploy, but like the hungry man I was for her, I fell into her trap willingly and placed my piece without looking.
When she smirked, moving back, I knew she’d won, but I couldn’t say I cared anymore.
“I win!” she cheered, giggling.
“No, I’m pretty sure I won, sweetheart.” Fin peered up, meeting my eyes, and I watched as she licked her lips, her pupils going wide at my meaning.
“My turn. Championship round,” Asa said, interrupting our eye fucking. Milo traded places, and I found the game much easier to concentrate on without Fin as my opponent.
After that, we played Sorry and then finished with a wild game of Uno, where it spit cards at us. I called it when we all started to yawn, knowing that tomorrow would come early.
“Come on, let’s go to bed. We should be rested for whatever tomorrow brings.”
Everyone nodded, and despite having two rooms, we all ended up in the same bed again, with Milo sleeping at the foot. Cuddling up to Fin, I held her in my arms, happy to be here.
“We’ll deal with it together,” she said, smoothing her hand over my face. “You taught me that.”
Dipping my head down to hers, I breathed her in, feeling my whole being relax. “Thank you for reminding me, sweetheart.” Kissing her nose, I snuggled her close, not even caring that Asa’s arms were wrapped tight around her from behind.
Dodging an ex, decoding mysterious clues, and facing my handler were all things we’d do together, and I found myself liking the sound of that more and more.
Beeping woke me a few hours later, and I realized the program had found a match. Slipping out of bed, I crept over to the computer and picked it up, the flashing message making me giddy. This was the part I loved. Using my systems and knowledge to crack things, finding the impossible.
I hesitated for a second as I sat in the chair and looked over at Fin sleeping. She looked so peaceful; I hated to wake her. It might be better for me to comb through everything and then condense it for her so she didn’t have to sift through all the boring things.
Part of me knew that was a lame excuse, but I carried on, clicking the cursor to follow the program. My earlier guess that it might be more than an IP address turned out to be correct. It was more of a web address to a secret folder. When I typed in the key, it opened, and I found what looked to be conversations. When I saw Blackhawk and Oblivion and another screen name, I paused, the urge to stop filling me, but my need to know what I needed to protect her from overtook my common sense, and I opened it.
Obsidian:It can’t be him.
Oblivion:Are you sure? I thought you said that place was abandoned. How did this happen?
Blackhawk:You both are jumping to conclusions. Mongoose is fine. I promise.
Oblivion:Then who was it? If not him, then who? Do you not care that someone died?
Blackhawk:Of course, I care, little hacker. I’m just saying we’re not responsible.
Obsidian:This is messed up. What did you say to him?
Oblivion: Nothing. He just said he needed help. When I asked him what, he returned and said not to worry about it. That he had figured it out and knew how to make things right. I haven’t heard from him in days.
Blackhawk:What could going back to the house prove? It doesn’t make sense, so the likely reason is that it’s not Mongoose.
Oblivion:But what if it is and we do nothing?
Obsidian: Hawk’s right. What can we do? We don’t know his real name, where he lives or even what he looks like. There’s nothing for us to report. If we say anything, we could be seen as accomplices.
Oblivion:But we didn’t do anything with this fire.
