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I skip to the following message.
Call me as soon as you get this. We need to talk about what happens next.
With trembling fingers,I switch to the Phone screen. It takes me three tries to type in Nate’s number, and when Rhys attempts to help me, I snap at him in return.
"I can do it!" Closing my eyes briefly, I follow my outburst with, "I’m so sorry."
Rhys nods, but his features turn to stone. I know he's not angry with me, but I can't help the need to keep apologizing.
It only rings twice before Nate answers. "Hold on a sec."
The line goes quiet as if he muted me. I stare at the little clock over my sink, and it takes three minutes until my brother's voice comes through the earpiece again. During the entire time, Rhys's hand rests on my leg, but neither of us speaks. I can't look at him. This is all my fault. Maybe I shouldn't have come back.
"Sorry, I was just leaving the office. Hank was with me."
Nate answering my call while he is in public—with his business partner, nonetheless—tells me how serious the situation is.
"Is it safe?" Still paralyzed from what I just read, I’m not sure what else to say.
"Yes, I’m in the car, heading home."
The typical tick-tocking of a turn signal is in the background, along with the sound of what I assume is LA traffic. Exhaling, I voice the question I'm afraid to hear the answer to. "What are we doing now?"
I listen to more traffic noise until Nate replies, "You know my stance on it, but removing you from the situation will make everything worse. I spoke to George earlier, and he will be shadowing you more than he already is. You'll stick to the story of memory loss; you don't remember ever saying what the reporter claims. I was unable to locate the original footage on his computer before sending the second virus. My guess is he's storing it somewhere else. I'm still looking for it."
"Second virus?" Rhys interrupts my brother. I didn’t put Nate on speaker, but since we neglected to turn on the water, he can easily follow the conversation in the small space.
"The first one was to access his laptop. The dumbfuck fell for the get-one-month-free-porn trap. Why is humanity so predictable?" Sarcasm drips from his words. "The second one wiped his hard drive, but I made sure a watcher remains in place for the future—even when he reinstalls the OS." This time, you can hear the grin in his voice.
"But that is only one out of who knows how many trailing Lilly. I mean, look at the piece of shit that is camped out under my window."
"Leave Lancaster up to me."
Of course he knows who we’re talking about. I meet Rhys's gaze, neither of us asking for the meaning behind my brother's words. Better not to know.
I decide to change gears. "What did you do about what happened in school?"
"Which incident are you referring to?"
Shit, crap, shit!
I play dumb. "How many are there?"
"Do you take me for an idiot, little sister?" Nate sneers.
"No?" I answer meekly, but it sounds more like a question than a convincing response.
Rhys stifles a laugh, and I narrow my eyes at him. I'm glad he thinks this is funny.
"Well, then let me enlighten you." My brother deadpans. "I took the liberty to send the footage of the locker incident to another news outlet with the comment that Westbridge High seems to ignore vandalism of school property, as well as students getting ostracized by their peers for being a victim of a traumatic experience. Said news outlet might have received a small contribution to publish an article with the footage by morning."
Where I suck in a breath in shock, Rhys cackles, "Dude, that’s fucking awesome! I’m starting to like you more and more."
"What is wrong with you guys?" I burst out. "You just made it ten times worse for me tomorrow. Now I really have a target on my back."
Nate’s voice comes through the phone. "Lilly, you already had a target on your back. The size of that hasn’t changed. And I’ll be damned if I stand by and let them terrorize you."
His protectiveness makes the empty cold in my stomach shrink the tiniest bit, but I can't help the fear of what they will come up with tomorrow. More graffiti, more physical assaults with random objects... The possibilities are endless.
I press my lips together. It doesn't matter. They can’t break me.
