The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland, #2) Page 3
“Be honest. And don’t go off on any sort of this isn’t the way to distract yourself or you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Fucking hell. “I’d never question for a moment whether you knew what you were doing. And yes, it was good sex. Or incredible.”
“Agreed.” Her voice was a purr. “I’ve heard sex is a good way to burn off excess adrenaline.” Each time she adjusted her weight, she pressed against his cock at a new angle.
He was rock hard, digging into her. “It has been an intense day. I could use a way to wind down, if that’s what you need.”
“Need is the perfect word for it.”
He could protest more. Tell her he was only here for one answer, and he had it now. He didn’t have any illusions this meant something to her.
He could put up some sort of front, about this being a bad idea. Say he didn’t want to take advantage of her. But they’d covered that, and he wasn’t a good enough guy to talk himself out of sex, when there was a willing offer on the table. He knotted his fingers in her hair, eliciting a gasp. The sound slid over his skin like silk, and he nipped her bottom lip before claiming her mouth.
She dragged her nails down his back, raising goosebumps on her way. She tasted like coffee and obsession when he twisted his tongue around hers in a dance. He stashed the outside world, to dive into the now.
Blake shoved up Reagan’s shirt, and she broke away to let him tug it over her head and toss it aside. He looked her over, trailing his gaze along the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts under her bra.
“What?” Her flush traveled down the pale skin of her neck.
“Appreciating the view.” He nipped her shoulder, then drifted lower, licking a path down her chest.
He unhooked her bra, needing to get closer. When he dragged a thumb over her nipple, she arched her back, grinding against his erection. He lowered his head and took the pink nub in his mouth, to suck and nibble.
“Fuck.” She gripped his hair, holding his head captive.
He increased his attention in time with her moans. Each time he licked, she squirmed harder in his lap.
“You’re going to make me raw,” he said with a strained chuckle. “I can’t do this teasing thing.” Hands on her hips, he lifted her.
She squealed and giggled. That was an incredible sound, and it chased the real world further into the background. He used his body to nudge her toward the bed, stripping off his shirt as they moved. The heat of her bare chest against his sent flames racing through him.
She hit the mattress and fell backward. It was the perfect opportunity to pull off her jeans, before setting his hands on either side of her head and ducking in for another long kiss.
How could he have missed this so much, having only had one night with her? Whatever the cause, this taste ignited his desire. He had enough grip on his reason to grab a condom from his wallet, before losing his pants.
He rolled on the protection. This was probably a bad idea.
He shoved the reservation aside. “I want you on top of me.”
“I like that.” She straddled him when he lay back.
He fisted his dick and dragged it along her slit. The easy slip pinged in his nerve endings. He couldn’t wait any longer. He thrust his hips up and slid inside her.
“Fuck, you feel good.” His voice sounded ragged to his ears. It wasn’t just the tight, wet grip on his shaft; it was her. The energy pulsing between them squeezed around him.
The way her eyelids fluttered each time he pounded inside her drove straight to his gut and tightened in his balls. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the sting would help him hold out longer.
He sought out her clit, and when he traced circles over it with his thumb, she gasped and pressed harder against him. Her weight, her gyrating... it pushed him to the edge. Every inch of him pleaded for release.
Not yet.
He increased his pace both with his thrusts and his attention to her sex.
She gripped his hand, digging in her nails, and tilted her head back, eyes closed tight. When she came, her pussy milked him.
The blend of her cries of pleasure, her slightly parted lips, and every sensation raced over him. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He came hard, grunting and hammering against her.
He kept thrusting as long as he could, wanting to fall into this feeling a little more. When he finally slowed to a stop, she leaned forward and rested her head on his chest. Neither spoke for several minutes, and he was happy to sink into the closeness.
As the outside world rushed back in, his thoughts flipped in on themselves. He’d lied to himself for the last six months about being able to walk away from her. It would have taken years to forget Reagan, and now that he had her back, he’d do anything in his power to keep her, and to keep her safe.
She rolled off him and curled up against his side. Her hot breath fell across his chest, and her eyelashes teased his skin. “You should know”—her voice was so quiet, he has to strain to make out the words—“I’m going back to Jabberwock.”
Every muscle in body tensed until the tendons in his neck threatened to snap. “What?”
Chapter Six
Blake struggled to process Reagan’s revelation. To stay objective and removed. Sex didn’t make her his. That wasn’t his issue with the news, though. He bit back the, Are you fucking insane? that tried to propel itself out. “He’s not going to trust you.”
“I don’t expect him to.” She rolled away and stood. The dim light in the room cast her curves in silhouette. He wasn’t going to stare. He didn’t need the distraction. “He’s not going to push me away, either.”
“How do you know that?”
She strolled the few steps to the bathroom. “Because he prides himself on outthinking those around him.” Her response mingled with the sound of running water. “The longer he tries to guess what I’m up to, the more effective this becomes.”
Blake stripped off his condom, wrapped it up, and tossed it in the trash. “And what is this? What kind of top secret plan do you have?” He moved to the bathroom to clean up, and she brushed past him, on her way out.
This was too clinical, and she was too detached. Casual sex. Remember? He had to keep that in mind.
“The point is to make him question everything and everyone,” she said when he rejoined her. She had dressed. “To get him to destroy himself.” She walked to the dresser, snagged a small holster from the duffel bag on the ground, and clipped it to her hip.
A taser. Blake should probably be grateful she wasn’t drawing it, given the edge to her words. He yanked his clothes back on and sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s almost as bad as the plan to promise not to tell anyone who he was if he let you go.”
“That was a good idea that needed refining. He let us walk, didn’t he?” She shoved a few things into a duffel bag. Not that there was much in the room that wasn’t bolted down. “This is what he does. He reads people, he makes decisions based on it, and he spends his time trying to stay one step ahead of everyone.”
Reagan shouldered her bag and turned to face him. “What was it the two of you told me? He rearranged his entire organization to find out who you were working for and prompt you to make a mistake. The entire fucking organization.”
He didn’t have an argument against that. After the atrocities he’d seen Jabberwock execute—torture, mutilation, dismemberment—without flinching, that was a mind Blake didn’t want to delve too far into. It concerned him that Reagan seemed to do so with ease.
“Why?” Blake asked. “What’s driving your obsession?”
“He used me. I’m a random person, and he didn’t hesitate to shove me into the middle of the chaos. He subjected me to psychological manipulation. Lies. To get at someone else. And I realize the Feds did the same, and worse—I won’t ever forget that week—but Jabberwock does it so he can rule an empire of lies and deception. He did all that for power. For wealth. Mostly power. So he could sit on his throne, unt
ouched and holy.”
Her cheeks were flushed red when she finished, her brow was furrowed, and her jaw clenched.
“The notion still feels incomplete.” Blake couldn’t ignore the venom in her voice. Talking her out of this didn’t seem like an option. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“A lot of things. I’ve been watching. I found some information from Alex.”
Her brother. Blake grasped more pieces of an incomplete picture. “What kind of information?”
“The kind that propels me forward.”
So much for getting that answer out of her. “At least you’re not relying solely on a headfuck, to do whatever it is you’re up to.”
“As far as he’s concerned, I am.” Reagan chewed the inside of her cheek as she searched Blake’s eyes. “Alex hid some things—details—but scattered. Not all in one place. He implied it’s enough to take down Jabberwock.”
“Take him down, how?” Blake wanted more details on where she was getting her information, but he was aiming for questions he hoped she’d answer.
She growled. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here still. I need more information, in order get to the final conclusion. For instance, Jabberwock told me—” She snapped her jaw shut. “Why am I telling you any of this?”
Blake wondered the same thing. “Because it sucks to go it alone. Because you’ve chased it in your head so long, you need a sounding board? Because saying the words aloud forces you to assemble them differently?” All things he’d struggled with when he was inside Jabberwock’s organization and trying to make sense of Wonderland.
“Most of it isn’t news to you, anyway. Jabberwock told me Alex was stashing money for me, for college. That he did so much of what he did for me.”
“But you attended on a full scholarship. Hell, half the time, your bank account was overdrawn.”
Her scowl deepened. “It’s going to be a long time before I’m okay with how much you know about my past that I didn’t tell you. But it helps make my point. If you know that, he knows it. I rarely saw money from Alex. He sent me fifty bucks here and there, and he was gone before I made it through my freshman year. He didn’t leave me anything, that I saw.”
“Why would Jabberwock tell you that, if he didn’t believe it? If he realized you’d know better?” Blake had an idea of what the answer was—the guy specialized in games. This was more, though. What was Blake missing?
Reagan fidgeted with the handle of her duffel bag. The heat sputtered a few times, before kicking on and spewing burnt dust and filter into the room again. Voices carried through the door, drawing closer, then farther away.
She glanced over her shoulder at the noise, then looked back at Blake. “Because he thinks I’m hiding the money. That’s the only thing I can figure that makes sense. A guy who tells as many half-truths as Jabberwock does, believes everyone else does the same. Alex implied there are accounts, so my guess is either Jabberwock hasn’t found them but knows they exist, or he has found them, and someone who’s not me or him is making withdrawals.”
It was convoluted, but so were a lot of things about the way Wonderland operated. This was simple, compared to some of the surreal things Blake saw during his time as Hatter.
“Anyway. I’m on my way out. You can stay in the room if you want. Do whatever,” Reagan said.
“We’re still talking.” He grabbed her wrist, and she hissed.
She whirled and wrenched free from his grasp, focusing an angry glare on him. “We’re done, because you don’t trust me, and that goes both ways. I’m doing this alone.”
“No, you’re not.” He had the answer to his original question, Why did you walk away? It was time for him to go, but he couldn’t let her head into whatever this was by herself. His sticking around was to keep her safe, and hopefully to bring her back from the dark edge she teetered on. Nothing more.
“I’m not asking for your input. Are you going to handcuff me, to keep me here? Because... kinky.” Her wink looked out of place in the middle of her scowl.
Under other circumstances, it would be tempting. “You’re right. I can’t stop you from leaving, just like you can’t stop me from following. If you don’t want another coincidence like in the diner, it would help if we were on the same page.”
Hesitation whispered across her face before vanishing behind a stone mask. “Fine. Follow.” She grabbed the car keys. “I’m taking I-80 to Iowa or so, then cutting south to Nashville. Hope you can get a ride fast.” She reached for the door.
“You’re driving to Tennessee?”
She paused. “I don’t have ID. Staying off the radar, and all that. I drive everywhere and make sure I don’t get pulled over.”
“I can get us on a flight, and no one will question it.”
“Not that I’m interested, but how?” She let her duffel bag slide to the floor.
“I know someone who can have us law enforcement badges in a matter of hours.”
“How is that supposed to be better?” she asked.
“Law enforcement who need to fly with a firearm don’t go through security. If we’re flying out during peak hours, no one is going to look too closely at us. We’ll be processed and waved along. Nothing recorded. No one giving us a second glance.”
“Your connections haven’t kept you off the radar.” Despite her arguments, she stepped away from the door.
“Does it matter? You want Jabberwock to know you’re coming, right? You don’t want to be stopped by someone else first?”
“I’d rather he not be expecting me.” She grabbed her bag again.
“In three days? Two, if you drive straight through without sleep?” Blake stood and joined her. “How useful will you be if you show up exhausted and jibbering?”
“My plans are flexible. I can adjust if he diverts.”
“All right. Go.” He was out of ways to persuade her, short of actually using handcuffs. Perhaps he should have brought a pair.
Reagan chewed on her bottom lip. “We go through security while the airport is packed, and no one knows our real names?”
“That’s the plan.”
Her shoulders slumped. “All right. I wouldn’t mind backup from you, I guess. And free peanuts would be nice.” She settled into the chair.
He wanted to fist pump but settled for a tight smile. “I’ll make some calls.”
Chapter Seven
Sawyer hated to lose the condo in Seattle, but when Reagan vanished overnight, he needed to implement security precautions. He hadn’t known whom she’d told or what had happened to her.
He and Lisa arrived at his actual home base—a house outside of Atlanta. One of the few places he could be himself, and a spot no one associated with him except for her.
“I’m going to ditch my bags and change,” Lisa said as they entered the kitchen through the garage.
“Sounds good. Meet you in the war room in fifteen?”
She gave a short nod and headed down the hall toward her room. Neither of them spent enough time here to consider it home, but it was as close as they got.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor—his sanctuary. Ten minutes later, he’d exchanged the suit for a T-shirt and sweat shorts, and was walking into the room at the back of the house.
If he decided later he still wanted to go a couple of rounds with the punching bag, he was dressed for it. Lisa had her seat staked out on a beanbag on the other side of the room. She’d shed her work uniform for a tank top and yoga pants.
Sawyer bypassed the desks against the wall and a couple more beanbags, and grabbed himself a spot on one of the couches. He plugged a network cable into a port hidden under a spot in the floor, and the other end went into his laptop.
There was no wireless in here. It wouldn’t travel through the copper-lined walls even if it were an acceptable risk. “Do we have an assessment on the residual damage from Alice’s network prank?” he asked.
Lisa didn’t look up from her computer. “She used a back door.”
“Do you want solid facts or my best guess?”
He didn’t like the sarcasm. It meant she didn’t have solid facts. How did Alice do this without leaving a trace? “Best guess.”
“She piggybacked it on an update for something widely used, embedding it well enough that everyone has it but she’s only using it on us.”
“She’s not that good.” Was she? No. She might have considerable skill, but not better than what he and Lisa did when they put their heads together.
The beanbag creaked beneath Lisa as she leaned forward. She set her laptop aside and rested her forearms on her knees. “You don’t know that. Besides, she doesn’t have to. Guess what else I found?”
“Not in the mood.”
“You can be Oscar the Grouch now, too. Fantastic.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “After Vegas, I sent out a crawler, to check the high-roller suites for all of our contracts. It’s hard to tell for sure, but based on patterns and the security footage they keep in the cloud, she’s playing a different casino’s tables every other weekend. She’s dropping tens of thousands and winning ninety percent of the time. This has been going on for at least a couple of months, and I assume as long as six months total, not counting the big-spender tables.”
He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, letting out a long groan. “So she can count cards. Your point is?”
“She’s not hurting for cash. Whatever she can’t do, she can pay someone else for.”
Not as interesting as if Alice did the work herself, but it was something he didn’t expect from her. “Send me what you have and check the traps.”
“Will do.”
Seconds later, he had the information Lisa had gathered, and her fingers flew across her keyboard. The traps were a series of crawlers always scanning for anyone looking for Jabberwock. The methods had been refined over time, to make the process more accurate, but details needed to be manually vetted, and pursued or discarded.