He Will Be My Ruin by Tucker K.A

Author:Tucker, K.A. [Tucker, K.A.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2016-02-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

Maggie

“Does everyone have a fucking security system these days?” I snap, watching Doug’s eyes on the camera hiding in the corner of the overhang.

Jace, Zac . . . even Celine, though hers was stuffed in a drawer. Sure, we had cameras on the perimeter of our property in La Jolla, but given our money and valuables and high-profile lives, we had good reason.

“Puts a damper on your criminal activities, doesn’t it?” Doug has barely said two words to me since I jumped into his sedan outside of Jace’s building, and the few he has said have been laced with annoyance.

I grip my scarf tighter around my neck as we stand by the side entrance of an unimpressive bungalow in Queens, concealed by an untamed cedar hedge and lit by a motion-detector spotlight. “This is where your high-priced hacker lives?”

“Research expert,” Doug corrects.

Seconds later, footfalls sound from inside, like someone’s running up a set of stairs. The plain beige curtain shielding the small window in the door shifts and eyes peer out at me from the darkness. Then the dead bolt clicks and the footfalls sound again. Someone heading back down the stairs.

“Come on.” Doug opens the door and gestures me in. He locks it behind us as I force myself down the narrow set of stairs, through another heavy door decorated with numerous dead bolts, and into a dim basement that smells of greasy fries and dirty socks and is stuffed with industrial shelves of computer equipment. Ahead of us, eight black screens with continuous scrolls of code form a wall. A low buzz of voices and beeps come from a row of police scanners in the corner.

My chest begins to tighten. I close my eyes and remind myself why we’re here, hoping that’s enough to distract me from the impending panic attack.

“Zac, this is Maggie. Maggie, Zac.”

Zac is as average-looking as one could imagine. Mid-thirties, medium-brown hair, maybe two inches taller than me, arms lacking any significant muscle tone, and the beginnings of a belly protruding from his ensemble of T-shirt and sweatpants.

He throws a lazy salute at me before dropping into his computer chair, a can of Coke in hand. “Should I guard my drink?” His voice is deep and gravelly, reminding me of a slovenly version of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

I offer Zac a sour smile in return. Since when did these two take the moral high road? Though, I’d feel a lot better about what I did had I found Celine’s vase tonight.

“How bad is it?” Doug mutters.

Zac hits a key, and the inside of Jace’s apartment shows up. “Basic security measures, from the looks of it. There’s only one feed.”

“But look at that line of sight.” I heave a sigh. Right into the living room, a narrow sliver that captures the couch area perfectly.

Where Jace still sleeps soundly.

“Okay, so . . .” With a few keystrokes, he’s suddenly gone from the couch. “Here’s J-Man, answering the door . . .” Zac commentates as Jace appears from the left, likely coming from his office.

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