The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland, #2)
The Hatter and The Hare
Hacking Wonderland #2
Allyson Lindt
This book is a work of fiction.
While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Allyson Lindt
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Acelette Press
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Blurb
Other Books in this Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Also By Allyson Lindt
About the Author
Blurb
Hatter has made a career of keeping people at arm’s length. He doesn’t expect Reagan to throw a wrench in his plans, though. Intoxicating, brilliant, and incredible in bed, she’s knocked him off-kilter in a way he never expected.
Hare has been called a lot of names in his time—fanatical, mad, and obsessive are at the top of the list. No one stands in his way, until Reagan. Her view of the world is an odd blend of rose-colored cynicism, and the things she lets him—begs him to—do her body, haunt his dreams and darkest fantasies. But she could ruin his life if he doesn’t move the chess pieces right.
Both men will risk their livelihoods, connections, and power to have her, but only one will kill if he can’t.
Author's Note: This book is part two of a duet. It does not stand alone. Book 1 is Reagan Through the Looking Glass.
Other Books in this Series
Reagan Through the Looking Glass (Hacking Wonderland Book 1)
For my eternal dragon
Chapter One
Sometimes Sawyer Brolin got tired of the game that went with his persona. Not of games in general, but there were days a guy just wasn’t in the mood to be Jabberwock. It was one reason he played the role of one of his own generals for so long—for a change in managerial scenery.
Whispers that someone near the top of his organization was a Fed caused ripples of distrust through his client base. Faking Blake and Reagan’s deaths served two purposes—it took them off the radar of anyone else looking for them, and it told anyone who did business with him that fucking with Jabberwock was a suicide pact.
This meeting was another branch of that damage control. Staying a mysterious name with no face was only effective until people asked if the absentee boss truly had control of his organization.
Jabberwock did. So now he had a face, to prove his grip was as tight as ever. That and it took away a hint of Alice’s power. She no longer knew a secret about him that no one else did.
He sat across from the owner of the casino and restaurant they dined in, his smile and gaze never wavering. One of the client’s security detail stepped aside at the sound of a phone ringing.
The client hadn’t made eye contact in several minutes. “What assurances do we have—?”
“The same you’ve always had. Have you seen any evidence I can’t keep my promises?” Sawyer knew the answer was no.
“We’ll proceed as planned, then,” the casino owner said.
The man who’d taken the phone call returned and whispered in his boss’s ear, and the client finally looked at Sawyer. “The young lady you’ve been looking for is in the casino. She just cashed out her chips and is heading for the elevators. She’s registered in one of our high-roller suites, same floor as you, under the name—”
“Thank you.” Sawyer pushed back from the table. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”
He cut a line to the nearest elevators, sidestepping every person who meandered into his path. Her face flashed through his thoughts, cunning but innocent. A living embodiment of contrast. He stepped into an elevator, grateful to share it with only a few people.
Rumors said she went by Alice now, rather than Reagan. That was one of the few pieces of information he’d been able to acquire since she threatened to dismantle his organization, six months ago.
The lift doors whispered open, and he strolled down the corridor. He rounded the corner, and there she was, back to him, pulling a key from her purse. She’d kept the blonde hair, but it no longer hung halfway down her back. The strands brushed her shoulders now.
She was as irresistible as the last time he saw her, but this time she wasn’t in another man’s arms. Rumors also said she’d left Blake behind. Sawyer was inclined to believe that, since Blake was easier to get a bead on when needed. Sawyer hadn’t gone after the former Hatter because he didn’t want to send Alice further into hiding.
Sawyer wrapped his arms around her waist. She let out a sigh so soft, it might have been part of the climate control. The scent of violets, familiar all these months later, teased him, and he resisted the desire to bury his head against her neck and inhale.
He couldn’t stop himself from gliding his lips along the edge of her ear, though. “The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the crown. The Lion chased the Unicorn all around town,” he whispered.
“Lion?” She whirled, not breaking from of his grasp. Her body was soft and yielding against his. “Another name?” She raised a brow, and the corner of her mouth quirked up. “How are you keeping track of them all?”
“You tell me, Alice.”
“I’m glad you were here today.” The way she traced her tongue along her bottom lip sent the blood rushing from his head to his cock, and her smile filled his head with the delicious reminder of her moans when she was turned on. The whimpers she made when she came. Her sweet taste when she ground her pussy against his face.
He pressed closer, until his cock dug into her hip. “You’re not very well hidden if you go places you expect to find me. And fleecing a casino owned by a business acquaintance of mine doesn’t really live up to that threat you made last time we spoke.”
“No. It really doesn’t.” She shifted against him, making him harder.
This was why she haunted his dreams, despite her threats. He dragged his nose up the side of her neck, falling into her scent. “I missed you.” His phone buzzed, and a growl echoed in his skull.
“I can tell. You’re vibrating with excitement,” she said.
Fucking business. He released her and stepped back to read the incom
ing message. “It’s Queen of Hearts,” he spoke as he read. Alice didn’t need the details, but he wanted to drive home he hadn’t been idle since they last spoke.
“I thought you were the only royalty in your court.” Was that surprise in her voice?
Good. He liked keeping her off-balance. “I’ve tightened ranks, and Dormouse earned a promotion.”
“Ah.” Alice’s shocked tone vanished. “Then we all have new names. What am I calling you?”
“It’s not a secret anymore. I’m Jabberwock.” The message stole his good mood. RoseGarden is spewing its secrets onto the internet. “Fuck.” He looked at Alice. Was this her doing? “Apparently, there’s a virus on one of our servers. Only one. It’s publishing a series of my IP addresses.”
Her wide eyes conveyed more mocking than surprise. “Oh my God. How horrible for you.”
It was her. He bit back the surge of amusement, and leaned in. Never touching her, he traced his mouth along her jaw to her lips. “It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” A millimeter more, and he’d kiss her. Claim that smug, full mouth. Instead, he slipped a tracking device into her purse. “Until next time.”
He spun on his toe and headed toward the elevator, not turning to see what Alice did next. He dialed Queen.
“Sir?” Her answer was curt.
Jabberwock stepped into the elevator. Glee danced with irritation. Having Alice back would be fun. Costly, until he won her over, but—fucking hell—the chase would be worth it. “Shut it down. Burn every one of those IP’s.”
Chapter Two
Blake had always been good at chess. He read the board. Anticipated his opponent’s decisions three and five and ten moves out.
Except when it came to Ephraim. Blake sat across from his Marine buddy, the metal of the folding chair hot through his T-shirt. The table between them wobbled each time Ephraim set a piece on the chessboard.
“Have you heard anything about this Reagan woman recently?” Ephraim asked.
Blake studied him, expression blank, but suspicion ticking in his thoughts. “Nothing new. No.”
Reagan—he heard she was calling herself Alice now—was probably the one other person who could beat him at this game. She certainly had in the real-life version, keeping him guessing up until the night she left. And nine times out of ten, he’d been wrong.
“Hmm. Let’s play,” Ephraim said.
Bringing Alice up and then brushing the question aside had to be a tactic to throw Blake off his game. “You’re already pulling out the psychological warfare? You must be worried.”
For the first couple of months after Alice walked away at that remote gas station, Blake wanted a single answer, nothing more. He wanted to know why. Ephraim harped on him, calling him obsessed and addicted. After that, Ephraim had gone out of his way to change the subject whenever her name came up. Until today.
“Doing nothing of the sort. I’ll even give you the advantage—I’ll go first.” Ephraim moved a pawn two squares.
The possibilities for next moves ticked away in Blake’s mind, but he was distracted enough to let them run on their own. He made his move and waited.
Blake could count on one hand the people who knew he was alive. He could have gone back to his old life the morning after Alice left. He’d known the moment he returned to the car that she didn’t plan to come back. The money on the front seat was his first clue. Someone had seen her walking toward the trucks, but nobody noticed which she got into or which direction she went.
Ephraim moved his pawn diagonally, to capture Blake’s, then set the piece aside with a sigh. “First blood.”
“Don’t sound so thrilled.”
Ephraim looked at him. “What would you say if I told you she pinged on my radar today?”
“That’s nice.” Blake’s voice cracked on the casual dismissal. The fury and hurt slamming into him were difficult to hide.
If he’d turned the car around and headed home after he lost her, he could have gone back to the way things should be. Used the fact he knew Jabberwock’s identity to earn a promotion and metaphorical gold star. Told his boss Reagan was dead. Gone. Jumped ship. Whatever. The problem was he meant what he told her before she vanished. Not only that he cared—though he hated not being able to get over that—but that he was tired of his old life.
Playing the double agent as a top general for Jabberwock’s crime syndicate, showed him that the lines between that and being a government agent were so blurred, they might as well not exist.
“Where’d she show up?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He made his next move, but his mind wasn’t on the game.
“Hmm.”
A growl slipped out before Blake could stop it. “You brought her up.”
“I did.” Ephraim danced his fingertips above his pieces but didn’t move or focus on any. “I had to see how you’d react. I should have known better.”
The cooler in the window kicked on, fan blades groaning in chorus with the adjusting tin trailer. A musty scent brushed over Blake’s skin, drying the thin layer of sweat on his skin, but not cooling him.
“I’m not reacting. Whatever you’ve heard, I’m sure she’s moved on by now.” Blake forced calm through his veins, searching for that neutral expression that had served him for so long.
He also could have vanished six months ago, the way Alice did. He was smart when he worked for Jabberwock. He’d stashed money in Swiss accounts—places his employer couldn’t find it and Jabberwock couldn’t get to it. Blake was set for life, financially.
“How about a wager?” Ephraim moved his next piece.
Blake raised his brows in question.
“You win this game, and I’ll tell you everything I heard.”
“Deal.” The answer burst out faster than Blake wanted.
Ephraim’s chuckle was flat. “Your move.”
Blake turned his focus inside long enough to lock away all distraction, then looked at the board. Even in November, Arizona wasn’t what he’d call a temperate place. A bead of sweat trickled down his back, and another along his cheek. Seconds ticked into minutes and crept on up an hour as he took each move, then waited for Ephraim to counter.
The board held only a few pieces now, and Blake scanned each, potential moves scrolling through his head without effort. No. He smiled and slid his bishop to take Ephraim’s knight. “Checkmate,” he said.
The elation that spread inside should be at beating his friend for the first time. Instead, Alice occupied his mind.
Ephraim scrubbed his face. “I’m not sure I should give you this.”
“A bet’s a bet.”
“You’re right.” He slid an SD card across the now-barren chess board. “She was in Las Vegas this afternoon. Made sure the cameras saw her and everything. She played a couple of hands of blackjack, then talked to a man with a blond ponytail before she left.”
Jabberwock. But that was hours ago, and if she left... The thought went nowhere. Blake couldn’t begin to guess what she was up to. The only thing he knew was when she said she intended to tear Jabberwock’s organization down from the inside out, the haunting tone in her voice was sincere.
He picked up the memory card and studied it. Did it have the answers he’d wanted for so long? No. Only she did. But it might point him in the right direction. He stood. “I’ll be in and out. You’ll see. If she’s not there, I’m done chasing her ghost. If she is, I’ll ask her my question. Either way, by tomorrow night, I’ll be on a plane to Fiji.”
Ephraim twisted his mouth. “I hope so. For your sake, I pray that’s exactly the way things go.”
Chapter Three
This was the literal definition of insanity. Blake had looked for Alice in Salt Lake immediately after she left him, to see if she’d reached out to anyone or returned to any of her old haunts. There was no trace of her, because why would she come back here if she was lying low?
Yet here he was again, pulling into the diner across the street where she’d stayed when Jabberwock wa
s protecting her—also known as using her as bait to find out Blake was Wonderland’s mole.
Blake couldn’t find Alice’s trail post-Vegas, so he’d come back here, to see if it triggered any other ideas for where to look next.
When he walked through the front door, his feet stalled without permission. She sat in the very back booth, facing the entrance, like she had six months ago. It might be a hallucination, brought on by the same madness that summoned him here. She wasn’t the same, though. The set of her jaw was harder, her posture straighter. Her gaze darted from one spot to the next, only lingering long enough to register each, before moving on.
Even in the too-bright fluorescents, mingled with neon reflecting from the signs on the wall, she was as stunning as he remembered. An ache pinged behind his ribs, and he shoved it aside.
When she saw him, she furrowed her brow and drew her lips into a thin line.
Not the reception he wanted, but considering the last time they spoke, she walked out on him, a frown was better than a repeat performance of her leaving. He closed the distance between them and slid into the seat next to her. The cracks in the leather snagged his slacks. Taking this spot was presumptuous, especially when his thigh pressed against hers and the heat from her arm radiated through his shirt.
He did it for the same reason she sat there, though. Clear view of the room, as far from the windows as possible, and shortest, most direct path to the rear exit.
She rested a hand on his thigh and slid higher, tracing her fingers up the inside of his leg.
His cock reacted to her touch, which was familiar and tempting after all this time.
“Is that a forty in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Her voice was low and sultry. She pulled away millimeters before she brushed his erection. “Oh, right. You wear your holster on the other side.”
The sarcastic sass was the same as he remembered, but the lack of any other emotion chilled him. “We’ll go with happy to see you, for now,” he said. Was he?