Raincheck (Caldwell Brothers Book 6) Page 2

  “Yeah, well, it’d be a lot easier to remember if these guys weren’t such assholes,” I mutter as I drag my mouse across my desk and move my avatar on the screen. “They don’t know what’s coming – these cocky assholes are going to get the piss kicked out of them.”

  “Rawr.” Neon laughs playfully into his headset. “I’m frightened, Waverly.”

  “Oh, fuck off.” My curse carries zero darkness and the utmost affection. He’s the closest thing to a real friend I have. “I didn’t mean you.”

  Before I can blink, enemy players flood the screen, and I pivot back and forth as I take them out with my special weapon – a gun I coded myself particularly for this expansion pack.

  “Waverly.” His warning rips through my headset, but I blow it off. “Calm down – we gotta get our guys back, remember?”

  “Ugh,” I hiss through gritted teeth. Just then, one of the enemy avatars freezes in place and turns to look at me. More like stares me down with a vapid death glare.

  “Whoa,” an unfamiliar male voice – one of the enemies – says. “Am I crazy, or do we have a girl on our server? I hate fucking girls. The weaker sex.”

  “Eat shit and die.” I turn on him and fire with a low growl of annoyance. His avatar blasts into bloody pieces, and for a moment, nothing lingers but the sound of silence. Then the other enemies turn on me. My avatar takes a hit and almost falls, but I manage to wipe them out with a few clean blasts of the grenade launcher. When smoke fills the screen a gritty gray, I grin and lean back in my chair just in time to see “VICTORY” appear in bright green font on the screen.

  It’s a word that warms my heart in a way I can’t really describe.

  “You’re terrible,” Neon says with a little chuckle that really says he thinks I’m a bad ass.

  A shoulder lifts and then falls even though I know he can’t see me. “Hey, a girl’s gotta relax at the end of the day.” I yawn and rub my eyes. “I had a long one, you know.”

  “Yeah, and now those assholes are going to have nightmares about getting KO’d by the wittle woman,” Neon says.

  “Good.” Defiance rings through my tone, but I can’t stop the corners of my mouth from tugging upward. “They should. It’s the twenty-first century, and they’re still pissy about a girl playing on their server? I was the one who built this damn server. They should be thanking me. If it wasn’t for Waverly, all tits and ass, they’d be unable to beat off in their mom’s basement all while playing their favorite game until their eyelids fall off.”

  Neon laughs. “Yeah, well, you know men. They just love taking you down a peg, don’t they?”

  “Misogynists.” I toss my long, white-blonde hair over one shoulder and absentmindedly twist it into a knot. “Hey, you should come over. I have a lot of work to finish up tonight. Bring food, too.”

  “I can’t take another night of sitting at the genius’s side as she works,” he says in a faux-French accent. “The ennui, it is too much! I pass out from it, go oomph on my derriere.”

  I laugh but secretly love the genius part. “Stop whining and get your ass over here. And don’t forget the food. Kicking nerdy male behind kicks up a powerful appetite in a girl.”

  “Right,” Neon says. “See you soon.”

  I hang my headset up over my gaming tower and kick my legs up on the desk, staring at the water cooler inside of the computer for a moment. The water soothes me – for some reason, the flowing bubbles always chase away pesky emotions I don’t want to feel. And right now, I can use all the soothing help I can get.

  Looking down at my Apple watch, I see that it’s almost four in the morning.

  Perfect.

  With another yawn, I get out of my chair and walk over to the mini-fridge I keep in my lair. It’s a tricked-out basement underneath my house in Summerlin that I’ve fitted with all of my most important possessions. Computers, servers, and all the tools and parts for building both litter every available space. I haven’t been in Vegas long, but already my little hole looks like I’ve been here for months. And while I kick ass at first-person shooter games and any other game a brilliant idea can throw at me, that isn’t why I came to Vegas.

  No. I came here to invent something revolutionary. My security company, Haven, is going to get off the ground and become the next big thing if I have anything to say about it. Because I’ve got some mighty big shoes to fill. Like those of a circus clown or Shaquille O’Neal.

  Games provide a distraction, something to relax me when I’m not working. But they also prime my mind and make me ready for coding and creating. I’m almost done with my first project – software that will revolutionize the gambling industry, a.k.a. Vegas’s bread and butter when it comes to making money. If I can sell my creation to the high-end casinos on the Strip, I know I’m really going to make a name for myself.

  From upstairs, I can hear the front door open and slam shut. Moments later, a lanky guy carrying a bag of In-N-Out walks into my lair and plops down on the leather couch that I positioned in the corner for catnaps.

  “Took you long enough,” I grumble before getting up and reaching inside of the bag to take a burger. “God, I’m starving.”

  Neon shakes his head and laughs. “You’re too much. I thought you were going to work?”

  I look back at my computer screen. There’s a big file loading, and I bite my lip as I wait for the whole thing to pop up.

  “Yeah, well, this has to compile first, and God knows how many errors are going to be inside.” I shake my head. “I’ll probably be up for eight or nine hours.”

  Neon gives a low whistle. “You keep crazy hours, girl.” He takes a bite of his own double cheeseburger. “And what am I gonna do, sit here and twiddle my thumbs?”

  I point toward my gaming PC. “Play some Overwatch or something. I don’t really care. But if you delete my characters, you’re dead fucking meat.”

  Neon smirks and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand like the Neanderthal he is. “Like I’d do that. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you...what’s up with Ostrich?”

  “Nothing,” I lie, careful to mask my expression. No way in hell will I give anything away about my new nomer. “It’s nothing.”

  Neon snorts and his nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge. “Yeah right. Like you ever do something for no reason. When it comes to you women, there’s always a hidden meaning.”

  I lower my burger to my lap and glare at him. “You’ve known me for like, a few weeks. I don’t really think that gives you much of a right to talk about me like we’re best friends.”

  Neon rolls his eyes.

  “Besides, you go by Neon,” I point out with my ketchup laced finger. “That’s so nineties.”

  “Don’t you dare bash the greatest era of gaming known to man.” Neon puffs out his skinny chest as he pushes his straggly hair behind his ears. At least he doesn’t have it twisted into one of those disgusting manbuns. “I take great offense to that.”

  I think for a moment before taking another huge bite, letting the delicious greasy meat and cheese melt over my tongue. It’s the first food I’ve eaten in days, and it’s heavenly. When I’m working hard on a project, I usually forget to eat. There was a whole semester in college where I lived off celery and peanut butter, just because I was too afraid to leave my computer in case I forgot something integral to the code. Those days were so innocent – back when I thought I’d become some game developer, or something equally frivolous.

  Something like him.

  But when I escaped into the real world, I realized that making a life for myself as a female techie was going to be harder than I’d thought. It didn’t matter if I knew everything about hacking from phone phreaking to clickjacking – even the most junior of men treated me like some dumb little script kiddy. I had one job at a game design company, and I’d only lasted three days after it became apparent to me that part of my job involved fetching coffee for the male interns...who were so far below me in intelligence and talent any idiot c
ould see it. But because I have tits, they didn’t care.

  In that misogynistic moment, I decided to go into security. After all, my hacking background made me the perfect woman to start a company dedicated to modern cybersecurity. The only problem had been my identity. Ever since I’d founded Haven, I’d had to hide the unfortunate fact of my genitalia. But that didn’t bother me – it wasn’t like people would hire me because they wanted some blonde to take care of them. They’d hire me because I was the best to be hired, and I wanted to make sure that I stayed the best.

  Neon coughs, bringing me back to reality.

  “So, Ostrich? Seriously?”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s because of that asshole, what’s his name...Crow...Buzzard...Dodo Bird.”

  “Oh, you mean Hawk,” Neon says with a shit-eating grin at my antics. “Man, he’s cool. He’s like, the star coding expert in Vegas. Probably everywhere.”

  I glare at him. “I thought you were on my side here.”

  Neon leans back and puts his palms to his chest as if I’ve fake stabbed him. “Dude, there are no sides. And what’s so bad about Hawk? I’ve met him before – he’s pretty cool.”

  “He’s such an asshole.” I moan and put the rest of my burger back in the wrapper and toss it in the trash. All this talk of Hawk’s talent makes me lose my appetite.

  “Hey,” Neon says. “I could’ve eaten that!”

  “Sorry, talking about assholes twists my stomach.” Sarcasm drips from every syllable as I imagine the handsome face of a man I never care to see again.

  Neon’s wide forehead wrinkles into a grimace. “What did he ever do to you?”

  “Well, for one thing, he’s like damn impossible to find.” I cross my arms over my narrow chest. “Like call Geraldo Rivera hard. And if I agreed with you, we’d both be wrong. Jerk doesn’t even leave a paper trail. I don’t even know his real name, for fuck’s sake!”

  “So?” Neon shrugs. “Most people don’t know my real name, either. It’s not a bad deal, Waverly. I mean, Ostrich,” he adds, smirking at me until I glare back. “What, you want to knock him off the top of the totem pole with your really long neck? Afterward, you could peck him with your beak and glare at him with your beady, black bird-like eyes.”

  I lean over and swat him on the upper arm. “What if I do want to put him in his place?” I challenge. “It’s about time someone new came in and showed him good coding. He can stay in the game, just a few feet underneath me.”

  Neon laughs.

  “I could do it,” I say. “I know I can.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t.” Neon puts his hands up in a defensive posture. “It’s just...I don’t know, man, give him a chance. Maybe you’ll like him. You two have a lot in common.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Never.”

  Neon shrugs. I can tell he doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t matter – I’m definitely not going back in my past and digging up the real reason why I hate Hawk so much. It doesn’t matter now. The only thing that matters is knocking him on his ass where he belongs.

  And with my new software, my baby, I think I know just how to do it.

  “Well, whatever.” Neon tosses a balled-up In-N-Out wrapper in the trash and yawns. “You get to work. I’m gonna lie down and see if I can’t nap for a while.”

  “Pussy,” I say with a smirk. “Can’t even handle staying up for thirty-six hours.”

  Neon looks pained as his eyes flutter closed. “Do you have any Monster or Red Bull in case I need it?”

  With a snort, I kick open the door to the mini-fridge. “Help yourself. Just don’t bother me when I’m working.”

  As soon as I turn back to my computer, my mind focuses on the code in front of me, and my fingers start flying across the keyboard as if they’re on auto-pilot. The gaming and the cheeseburger provide just enough of a break for me, and now I’m good to work on my baby until the sun is high in the sky. With a deep breath, I lean closer to the screen and peer over the rims of my thick glasses.

  “Zero compilation errors,” I read in a smug whisper. “Perfect.”

  Chapter Three

  Hawk

  After Caldwell leaves, I fall asleep on the couch, complete exhaustion hammering at my every cell. It’s something I haven’t done for months, and it’s more uncomfortable than I remember...not to mention bright. The sunlight streaming in through the windows wakes me up, and I groan, sitting up and shaking my head until my hair falls free and whips against my cheeks. My whole body aches like I’ve been working out, and for a moment everything seems fine.

  Then I remember the fire, and I scowl as I get to my feet and stumble into the kitchen. Peering inside the fridge is useless – the only things I really keep on hand are condiments and the occasional bag of deli meat. Besides, I’m not hungry. How the hell can I have an appetite when the biggest work of my life has just been destroyed in what seems to be a suspicious act? Hostess cupcakes with a Dew chaser it is.

  I feel utterly directionless as I stride back into the living room and sit back down on the couch. For the first time in years, I haven’t woken up either in my safe place downstairs or my bed, shortly before heading downstairs. Knowing that I don’t even have that option right now makes me feel sick to my stomach. It feels strange enough sitting in the living room as bright sunlight streams in through the windows – am I supposed to work in here too?

  In hopes of distracting myself, I go upstairs to my bedroom and grab the little netbook I use for notes. I flop onto the bed and log onto the Las Vegas BBS – a completely outdated yet charming online bulletin board where most of the techies wind up posting sooner or later. The Vegas BBS snagged me my first gig out here, and while I don’t really have any of what most people would call friends, it’s comforting to log on and catch up on local “gossip” in my world.

  A post at the top of the page draws my eye, and I scan down the page. The resulting thread stretches four pages long, with dozens of comments. Frowning, I click on the headline.

  “Anyone heard of this dude, Ostrich?”

  I narrow my eyes as I begin scrolling through the thread. I’d never heard of an Ostrich before – at least, not outside of a zoo – until the name traveled through my circle. Something about the post sends a surge of nervous energy through my sore body. On the second page, my heart drops.

  “Word is, he’s working on some kind of code to sell to casinos – high dollar security shit. Heard he’s a fucking God.”

  I groan and bury my face in my hands. Just when I think my day can’t get any worse, I learn that some newcomer is literally trying to copy the exact software I lost in the fire.

  Dammit.

  With frantic fingers, I type a message: “What’s the 411 on this bird? Can I get some info?”

  It doesn’t take long. The replies start pouring in after just a few moments. From what I can glean, Ostrich is a newcomer to the Vegas scene. Probably some spoiled kid who dropped out of Berkeley because his compsci professor wouldn’t hold his hand while he took a piss. I laugh at my own joke as I continue reading.

  But as much as I hate to admit it, I know that I have to find more about Ostrich as fast as I can. Assuming that Caldwell was right about Dante Giovanetti’s goons bypassing my cameras and facial recognition software and setting fire to my lair – and I’m damn sure he was behind this – I’m going to have to find this Ostrich person and track him down for a little bird to bird convo. We’re going to have to work together.

  Together burns my ears worse than a curse. It’s the techy version of the word fuck.

  And I really, really hate it.

  I’m a loner by choice. Ever since I came to Vegas, the only person I’ve really spent time with on a regular basis is Nixon Caldwell. Sometimes his security man, Troy Cass, but I always get the nagging feeling that Troy is like me in the sense that he doesn’t make many connections. We’ve split a few bottles of scotch together, but aside from that, I don’t know very much about the man. Besides, he�
�s getting leg shackled to some superhero warrior chick that looks like a pint-sized ninja.

  And now, I have to not only find someone new but actually reach out to them and ask them for help. It fucking kills me. I’m never the guy who goes around looking for help – other people come to me, for heaven’s sake.

  With a sigh, I close my laptop and reluctantly walk into the master bath. It’s sparse – practically every room in my house is, save for my basement lair, but that almost comforts me in a weird way. Still, it kills me that Dante knew just enough about me to go for the jugular. Why destroy the rest of my giant house when he could merely take away the thing that meant the most?

  If I had bulking muscles like Cass instead of hard planes of geek flesh – and if I didn’t need my hands to make my livelihood – I’d find Dante right now and beat the shit out of him.

  By the time I get out of the shower, I feel like the wrong end of a horse’s ass. I pull on a clean black t-shirt and a fresh pair of black utility pants. The outfit’s as dark as my mood, and I chuckle at myself before calling my insurance company and asking them to come out for estimates.

  Even worse than this current shit storm, I know Caldwell’s right about Dante trying to sabotage me. Should I choose to call and plead my case, the cops won’t care – they’re all in Dante’s pocket, just like the rest of Vegas. And I doubt my insurance company would care much either, at least based on the bland, bored tone of the woman speaking with me. When we hang up, I shove my phone in my pocket.

  It’s time to go have the world’s most uncomfortable conversation with Caldwell, and I’m not looking forward to it at all.

  When I get to the Strip, I coast to the curb of the swankiest boutique casino in Vegas. I leave my car with the Armónico’s valet, take a deep breath and head inside. Cass hovers right inside the doors like a smaller and slightly better-looking version of Lurch, watching as patrons come and go with eyes that miss nothing. When he sees me, he jerks his head in a sign of greeting.

  “Hey, where’s Caldwell?”