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Fate

Today

Using the strawberryTwizzler, which took us three different convenience stores to find, I suck up the last drop of milk from the glass. He's not even trying to hide the look of pure disgust from the other side of the room as I gnaw on the yummy, chewy vine.

As I stare at the blank screen, my pulse beats faster and faster knowing the answer to my fear is only a few clicks away. This is it. This is the moment I learn if I'm done with this whole ordeal, able to pass it all off to the FBI without looking over my shoulder the rest of my life, or not.

Massaging my right hand, still aching from my attempt to break the truck window those months ago, I glance to Nash, who's watching like he's on some kind of patrol. The assault rifle now slung across his back amps up my nerves.

"Here we go," I whisper and start the search. It’s a challenge finding my rhythm, but I keep my focus even as Nash's cell phone rings. It's not until his voice rises to the person on the other end of the line that I pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard as I listen.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there. I don't know what you're talking about. Yeah, she's right here, just logged on.... Okay." Noticing my attention, he nods to the phone and tosses it toward me. "He's freaking out about something."

"Who?" I ask before putting the phone to my ear.

Mac’s voice pours through the receiver. "Tell me it's not you. You wouldn't do this, not to me."

My brows narrow as I try to decipher what the hell he's talking about. "Hey, it's me. What's going on?"

"I'm being fucking hacked! Or someone’s trying to. I'm holding whoever off, but they're good.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I think I know who it is, but how-”

“It's like they’re searching for something specific. I'm trying to keep my files secure but—"

Files.

Pushing out of the chair, I pace the room, Nash and Dobby hot on my heels. "Do you still have the file you found? The one I planted before I left?"

"Yes, but that's not—"

"Get anything to download it on, now. Flash drive, disk, anything, but get it off your computer before he can see it. Now. Do it."

"What's going on, Fate? Tell me what's in that file."

With a sigh, I stop, Nash stumbling against my back. Turning with a scowl, I flop onto the bed. "I'll fill you in later, but you have to save that information. If he sees it, then he’ll know how I found him, what digital fingerprints he leaves behind. If he gets it...."

"Who's ‘he’?"

"The jackass searching for me," I shout into the phone. “I don’t know how he found you. Maybe he tracked you through me but he’s probably trying to see if you know where I am. Searching for me through you. If he finds that file and learns... I might never find him again if he adapts.”

Silence on the other end says he's either working on keeping his computers secure or saving the information I spent a better part of a year gathering.

"Done," he breathes into the phone. "He's still kicking my ass though, and I cannot let him see the case files I’m working on or find you. Help."

Leaping off the bed, I fall into the uncomfortable chair and do what I do best. It takes a few minutes to use the jackass’s wormhole as my own entrance into Mac’s system, then begin reinforcing every firewall and security feature Mac has, plus installing a few of my own that I created before Africa. I’m careful though, double securing my tracks so he can’t trace anything back to this house. Knowing Jace, that could be his reason for hacking Mac, luring me out to trace my whereabouts.

Reaching over, I hit the Speaker button with my elbow. "Okay I'm in, trying to help."

"I'm getting rusty, sitting in meetings too much these days it seems. It took me too long to even identify what was going on."

With a small smile, I keep adding layer after layer of security to his system. "It's okay. Getting bypassed by a younger generation always happens to the old folks. Don't worry, I’ll visit you in the nursing home."

"Brat. Okay, I think we're good. Don't see any more alerts or attempts to crack my firewalls."