Behind Your Back (6 page)

T
he migraine doesn’t seem to care about my medication, and I tell Grace to cancel my afternoon appointments and that I’m heading home.

I take a cab home and by the time we reach my apartment, I can barely crawl into bed. Leo is there, meowing as if he knows there’s something wrong with me and wants to help.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, and even those few words hurt my head. It takes all the strength I have to get up, close the curtains and then get back into bed. I close my eyes and lay on my back, as still as I can. Now I just have to wait for it to pass.

I
must have fallen asleep, because my phone starts going berserk and I open my eyes and search for it with my hand. The migraine is subsiding, but only fractionally. A few more hours and it will be completely gone.

Fuck. I missed the meeting. I’d sent everyone a message earlier that I might not make it, but they are still blowing up my phone. I have at least three messages from each one of them. I send Cash a message back to go on without me and I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.

Slowly, I get to my feet and shuffle to the bathroom for a glass of water. I down it and then shuffle to the kitchen to feed Leo. If I don’t, he’s bound to start meowing and my head can’t take that right now.

After he’s fed, I have another glass of water and go to bed.

But not before I get a text message from a blocked number.

Nice try. But I’m smarter than that.

Six

I
grit my teeth. It’s like the anonymous hacker is taunting me. Kicking me when I’m down. I crawl out of bed and grab yet another burner phone from my stash. This person is making us go through a fuck ton of phones. Good thing we have the money for this, but shit. It’s starting to really piss me off.

“Cash? I got another message. I can’t get there, so have the guys come here.” I’ve only done this a few times, and they know how to stagger their arrival so we don’t look suspicious.

“Be right there,” he says and then hangs up. Still in pain, I go to the fridge and check to make sure I have enough beer. Usually at least one of them will bring something with them, to give the appearance that we’re just watching football or something. They also wear Patriots shirts to keep up the ruse. Most people are so involved with their own shit they don’t notice what anyone else is doing. Still. You can never be too careful. Ever.

Cash is first to arrive and goes immediately for the phone. I’ve situated myself on the recliner with another glass of water. The headache is down to a manageable level, but if Cash can’t figure out who this hacker is, it might come back with a vengeance. Hardy is second with a case of Bud Light, followed by Row and then Track.

“You okay?” Track asks as he takes his spot on the couch and flips on the television to ESPN and before turning the volume up so we can talk freely. I already checked my apartment for bugs, something we all do regularly.

“Yeah, just have a headache,” I say and then give him a thumbs up.

“Oh, come on!” Baz yells at the television. I give him an icy glare and he points at the screen.

“Did you see that? Fucking ridiculous.” I just keep glaring and Baz mumbles something under his breath that I don’t bother to call him out on. Cash puts his hand up.

“Will you all kindly shut the fuck up? I’m trying to concentrate here.” Baz snorts, but keeps his mouth clamped shut.

I close my eyes and lean back in my chair as Row, Track, Hardy and Baz pass around the beer and discuss who the potential hacker could be. Row starts taking wagers. I open my eyes and snap my fingers.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” I say. Normally, I’d let them have their fun, but my patience is thin tonight.

They all look at me like I’m a fucking killjoy.

“Fine, do whatever the fuck you want.” I close my eyes again to wait for Cash’s victory dance. He has to crack this phone. He just has to.

Finally, I ask Cash if he’s got anything. He shakes his head slowly.

“I have no idea what this is, but it might be some military grade shit. It’s confounding every single thing I try. I’m sorry, man, but I don’t know what else to do.” Well, fuck.

“Okay, but you can still contact your hacker friends, right?” Cash’s network is a surprisingly trustworthy lot. They look out for their own.

“Yeah, I’ll have them give it a shot.” He types some more as the others discuss who could be doing this.

The problem with what we do is that we have a long list of enemies and those enemies have means to get back at us.

“We’re just going to have to step up security,” I say and some of the guys groan.

“Hey, don’t blame me. I think we need to start doing stuff off the grid.” That means using our cell phones and computers less and doing things the old-fashioned way. The way people did before technology. With paper that could be destroyed.

“I keep saying we should all learn Morse code,” Cash says, not looking up from his keyboard where his fingers are flying so fast they blur.

“Morse code would be nearly useless because it’s easy to crack. Too big a risk,” Hardy says. He has a point, but that doesn’t deter Cash. Yet another facet of his obsession with antiquities.

After the bust with the phone, we got back to our regular business.

“So, haven’t seen the girl yet, huh?” Baz says. “Might be time to call in the big guns.”

“Oh yeah, who’s that?” Row asks. Baz pops him on the arm and I swear to God, if they break my fucking coffee table, they’re all dead.

“I’m going to meet her at a bar this weekend. It’ll be fine. I’ve done this before.” I sound almost depressed but I tell myself it’s just the headache.

“How long you think we can stay here?” Track says. He hates that we have to move nearly every year, but he signed up for this. In case of emergency, we all have several fake identities on file. Passports, documents, etc. in case we need to flee the country and hide out for a while.

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling that after Mr. B, we’re going to have to move on again.” We choose our cities very carefully, and have a list of the next three. Location is always a topic of much discussion and debate and usually ends in blows. I hoped it wouldn’t this time.

Cash tells us that a few of his friends are working on the phone and they finally come up with a name.

“John Smith,” he says, chuckling a little. “You have to admit, it’s kind of hilarious.” I’m not amused. Not a little bit.

“Okay, is that all you’ve got?” He shakes his head.

“No, there’s a bunch of other information, but it’s all useless. The phone only has your number in it and the only messages sent have been to your phone. I can’t get a ping on the location because the phone is off. They’ve also got some fancy schmancy stuff on it that scrambles the information when you try to hack it so for all we know this phone is now at the bottom of a river somewhere. Unless they turn it on again, we’re basically fucked.” Just fucking great. I yank my hand through my hair and pull a few dark strands out. I’m not very good at handling stress all that well, and now that I don’t smoke, it’s even worse.

I give Row the phone to dispose of and make Cash put in an order for more burner phones. We’re going to start going through them like tissues if whoever this hacker is doesn’t cut the shit and stop trying to stalk me.

“I’ll also up the security on those things. A buddy of mine just worked something up for me,” Cash says with a grin. That’s the other thing about his hacker buddies. They get off on making new programs and breaking codes. A lot of them just do it for the joy of it.

After the guys leave, I head back to bed. Sensing I might need comfort, Leo climbs into bed with me and curls up on my chest. I pet him with both hands until the pain fades and sleep finally takes me.

I
don’t get any more messages from John Smith and I breathe a tiny sigh of relief that Cash’s methods are working.

On Saturday night, I put on a black shirt, a pair of designer jeans and loafers. I take extra care with my hair and make sure I don’t miss any part of my face when I shave. Cash has been giving me updates of her location and as of ten minutes ago, she was inside, probably enjoying a drink or two with her friends. In fact, I hope she’s a little inebriated. That will make my job even easier.

I take one of the sports cars we own for special occasions. A red Ferrari that drives like a dream. It’s like sex, this car; a woman who does everything you want even before you know you want it.

I arrive at the bar and park near the front. Row is on duty tonight and just a few yards away in case anyone gets ideas so I’m not worried about the car being stolen.

A few people gasp or yell their appreciation as I exit the car. It’s a car, not an amusement park, although I might be able to make decent money giving rides for a fee. I shake my head at that notion and give the bouncer at the front door a nod.

Carefully I scan the room. It’s filled with typical bar fare: the regulars who are camped out on stools and harassing the bartender, groups of coworkers blowing off steam after another long weekend and then there is the girls’ night out crowd. The last classification is what I’m concerned about. Something tells me Saige will be with a group.

It might be dark in here, and a little smoky, but I’d see her red hair anywhere. I’m lucky she has such an obvious trait. I see a woman with red hair, but hers is more carrot than Saige’s, which is a darker auburn.

Going to the bar, I order a beer and find a stool. A man sitting next to me gives me a friendly nod. He has the look of someone who’s spent his fair share of time here. Hunched over, baseball cap pulled down, doesn’t make eye contact with anyone but the bartender when he wants another drink.

I message Cash and he confirms that she is here. Probably in the bathroom. Women seem to go in packs, and there’s probably a line. I can wait. I’ve got nothing else to do tonight but to make initial contact. Catch her eye. Get her interested.

After waiting another half hour, and doing a sweep of the place, I can’t find her. Maybe she’s dyed her hair. So I look not for her hair, but for her eyes and her figure.

Nothing. Either she’s passed out in the bathroom, or she’s not here. I message Cash and ask if he’s absolutely positively sure she’s here and he says he is. Well, fuck.

I must just not be seeing her. I scan again, making sure I search each and every face. There are a few girls that could be her, but aren’t.

Where is she?

Something catches my eye and I glance to my left, but it’s just another girl who isn’t Saige.

I accidently meet eyes with a brunette who gives me a smile and slinks over.

“Hey, gorgeous. You alone tonight?” Her hand slides up my chest, but don’t object.

“Maybe,” I say. Relationships are a game, and sometimes, I just want to play. I give her a half-smile and she moves even closer.

“Want some company?” she says in a husky voice that somehow carries over the noise of the people around us.

“Are you offering?” I say and she bites her lip and nods. Anatomically, she’s what you’d want. The right curves in the right places. She’s also got a sweet heart-shaped face and pretty blue eyes. But I look at her and feel… nothing. That’s not exactly true. I can’t deny that my pants tighten when I think about having her under me. Or up against the wall. Or bent over in the bathroom. I’m not picky about location.

Other than that, I’m lukewarm. If I wasn’t working, I’d probably still take her out back and pummel her against the wall. Sometimes you just need a woman wrapped around you.

But I am working, and I need to find Saige. I pull my eyes away from the girl, whose hand has moved down my chest and is going south.

“Will you excuse me?” I say, pretending I’m headed for the bathroom. The woman pulls her hand back and heads to the next available guy.

I do two more sweeps of the room and I’m starting to get agitated. This isn’t the end of the world, but it’s just fucking frustrating. Nearly two hours wasted and I’ve had it.

After texting Cash and Row, I go back out the front and head for the car. After one last scan of the sidewalk, I’m in the car and sinking back into the leather.

This is the third time I’ve tried to find her. Seems like I’m going to have to resort to stalking to get ahold of this girl.

Making a sound of frustration, I pull away from the curb and head back to the garage where I keep my car. But at the last second, I make a U turn and head the opposite direction. Out of the city and toward the country.

I send Cash and Row another message that I’m going for a drive to clear my head. While I’ve got the car out, I might as well use it.

As soon as I’m out of the city, I exhale and hit the gas. The car roars in approval, as if it’s been waiting for me to let it go. Like a wild horse.

I pass car after car and my mind starts to wander. I turn on the radio and flip through the stations. A strange song comes on and it captures my attention. Something about a hanging tree. I don’t know the song, but I listen as I drive and think about nothing. It’s not often that I get a break like this. My head is always full of names and numbers and aliases and wondering if that guy who’s looking at me too hard knows who I am and what I do. I didn’t realize when I started how lonely a life this is. Most of the time I’m fine being alone. But every now and then it gnaws at me. Grabs ahold of me and drops me into a dark pit.

Sometimes I wonder what things would have been like if I had gone to college and gotten an above-board job. Became a lawyer or chef or a teacher. I never really knew what I wanted to do in school. And then things happened and those normal jobs just weren’t an option anymore.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this.