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A nod to the guy at the check-in desk makes the chunky black-framed glasses slide slightly down the bridge of my nose. I situate them back into place as I scour the room, looking for Lauren, the sender of the earlier cryptic message that stated my boyfriend was in.

Jace.

Jace, the bastard Lauren believes I have the hots for, which couldn’t be further from the truth. She scouts the dungeon, since she practically lives here, and alerts me when Jace pops in. From what I can tell, Lauren does like to play the games, but more than anything she enjoys the focused attention from being the only girl in a room filled with socially awkward, horny men.

It was a small lie several months back, but saying I liked him was the best I could come up with when she caught me red-handed glaring Jace down one night instead of focusing on the game on my screen. Now her solo mission centers around Jace and me getting together.

Not likely considering he's the bastard who lured Destiny to her death, the man I'm patiently stalking until he’s behind bars. I followed his handle here all those months ago, the miniscule digital bread crumbs others missed which led me here to DC. It was kind of fun digging and sorting through the mounds of data and constantly changing IP addresses to identify his exact location.

Hell, it took a ton of work and many, many long nights to get me here. And now I am. And the man responsible for my misery sits across the room, snuggling some blue-haired girl, whispering something in her ear that causes a shy smile to spread across her face. If the smile and the way his fingers stroke up and down her bare thigh are any indication, I suspect Jace is working whatever magic he seems to have over women to talk this poor soul into the back room for a bit of adult fun.

The adult fun back room where I’ve yet to venture.

A crimson flush creeps up my chest as I drop my stare to maneuver through the sweaty bodies and slink into a chair directly across the small round table from Lauren. The two other occupants don't look up from their glowing screens, too wrapped up in their game.

Not that I blame them. Dressed in these baggy clothes, I barely look like a girl. Plus the black wig does nothing for my too-pale complexion; I resemble a not-so-striking Elvira.

Lauren's bright green eyes flick up from her screen with a smile. "Hey, girl, hey," she chirps, then leans across the table to pull me in for what I think is a hug, but she presses a kiss against my lips instead. "Couldn't resist. Sorry."

What's amusing is not a single guy has worked up the nerve to invite me into the back room in the few months I’ve been coming here. But Lauren has. She's been trying to 'convert me'—her words, not mine—since we met. I've told her many times that I'm not into girls, but she says I just haven't met the right one yet. Who knows, she could be right. Guys haven't done it for me recently. Then again, neither have girls.

The spark, urgency and heat described in all those romance books has never happened for me. Ever. Past boyfriends were more convenience than passion, which is sad.

Thank goodness for vibrators.

After making a mental note to pick up more batteries, I pull open my laptop. My fingers freeze over the keyboard at a light tap against my left shoulder. Lauren's wide saucer-size eyes and face-splitting grin tell me exactly who’s standing behind me without having to turn.

I swallow against a now-dry throat and turn to look at the person I hate. Loathe, really. This close, an unfamiliar heat builds in my chest. Against the table, my hands ball into tight fists. Instead of lashing out, ruining all my secret stalking, I force a happy smile.

"I hear you're looking for me," he says with a smirk and a glance across the table to Lauren. "You want to hear what all the fun is about." Jace leans against the table, his pudgy thigh spilling over the top, and crosses his arms against his chest. My head involuntarily tilts to the right as I watch his arms, waiting for the muscle movement like I'd observed at the apartment with Matt. But nothing moves, only soft, slightly tan flesh spilling beneath the sleeves of his Metallica T-shirt. "I get it a lot."

I force my brows to stay neutral instead of inching up my forehead at the ridiculousness of his statement. This guy can't be serious. He looks like every other out-of-shape guy in here. The only thing he has going for him is everyone knows he's a master hacker. The master hacker of DC, if you believe some of the whispers.

It's clear to assume they don't know about me, then. Which is good. I've stayed under the radar, which is what I need until I see this revenge mission through.

"Your work is good" is my only response. Okay, not the brightest, but at least it's a response. Verbal communication with strangers has never been a strong suit of mine. I need a good month or two of warming up and feeling someone out before real conversations can happen. Plus, I've used my allotted daily word count with Matt and Mac; no need to extend this any longer than needed.

And why is he over here, anyway?

"Right," he says with a chuckle. "Come on, I'll show you my best work." With a lover’s touch, his fingers brush down my arm to wrap my hand in his. Nausea churns my stomach at the unwanted contact. With a hand at my elbow, he pulls me to a standing position. I shoot a frantic look toward Lauren, who's still smiling and giving two very enthusiastic thumbs up.

Oh hell, Lauren, what did you do?

"Um...." No. I cannot go back there with him.

Abort. Abort. Shit.

My second-most hated man in this world continues to pull me toward the back room.

"Come on," he says over his shoulder as his free hand parts the beaded curtain. Yes, a beaded curtain from the seventies, which is probably when this one was installed and this entire bunker was used as some type of swingers’ lair.

In disgust, I shoulder through the broad opening Jace’s shoulders made, not touching a single bead in fear of catching something that would require penicillin.

"I've seen you around here before. What game do you play?" he asks.

Game.

Game.