Dangerous Games (Aegis Group, #3) (31 page)

Doug had stopped once to get the code for the gate. For some reason, knowing they were coming back here wasn’t quite as scary. It was the known. The familiar. Or maybe she was numb.

It’d been Doug all along.

Not Miranda.

Or Cliff.

No one else.

It’d been Doug.

It made sense, in a way. Doug had always sneered and turned his nose up at them whenever the companies were together. He’d never liked them, had always belittled the Drudge franchise.

“Inside the house.” Doug shoved Crystal through the front door into the grand living room. It’d been converted from an elegant space into the gaming center, with three different set-ups depending on what was being played. “Where do you vlog?”

“Vlog?” Andrea squinted at him. Why would he care? And why wasn’t she scared? Where was Zain?

“In the office.” Crystal pointed toward the study. The French doors were open and a fat tabby lay in a pool of sunlight on the floor.

“In there.” Doug waved his gun at them.

Crystal continued to cling to Andrea’s hand, hauling her into the office.

“What files did you want?” She dug her heels in and turned to face Doug. “What were you looking for?”

“The key stroke recordings.” Doug took another step and pressed the muzzle of the gun to her chest.

“What key stroke recordings?” She squinted at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you should know I don’t have whatever files you think I do.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Doug grinned.

She didn’t like his smile. The way his eyes glittered with malice.

Andrea swallowed.

“If it didn’t matter, why try to kill me over it? Why kidnap us?” Andrea didn’t know what Doug was really after, but the more she stalled, the longer it took them to say—or do—anything, the more time she bought for Zain to track them down.

“Crystal, turn the camera on. I want you to read this script.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Andrea. “If you don’t walk in there now, I’ll shoot your friend.”

There was a cold, soulless quality to his voice.

Maybe she was wrong. What if he would pull the trigger? What if he’d done it before?

Andrea couldn’t risk Crystal’s life.

For all that she’d always thought of him as a paper pusher, the cold callous way he stared at her now left no question in her mind what Doug valued. And it was not her life, or Crystal’s.

Andrea took the script and joined Crystal in the study. Crystal scampered away from the camera, a tablet in hand.

“Is it ready to record?” Doug asked.

“Yes,” Crystal said far too fast.

“Good. I want to record this and schedule it to post in an hour,” he said.

Crystal tilted the screen toward Andrea, eyes wide. Meaningful.

Andrea stared at the screen, trying to see what all the little icons were.

Oh no...

She hadn’t...

But she had...

They were broadcasting.

Live.

Right now.

Anyone who watched the vlog, all the subscribers, would get the notification to tune in right this very second. After pleading for her return, their numbers had skyrocketed. Someone out there would see it...and report it...the cops—Zain—would know where they were and who was behind it all.

“Doug,” Andrea practically yelped his name, real fear pounding through her veins now, “what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

Zain should be getting the notification any second now.

“Sit down,” he snapped. Doug went to the desk and laid a small, zipper pouch on it. “Start recording and read the fucking script already.”

Crystal took the paper from Andrea and skimmed it.

“You—this is a suicide letter.” Crystal’s face was pale, her hands shaking.

“Bingo.” Doug pulled a syringe from the case.

“Let me see that.” Andrea snatched the paper back. “Dear friends, it’s all our fault. We take responsibility...blahblahblah...we can’t go on. Seriously? This doesn’t sound like either one of us. No one would believe it.”

“Sit down and record.” Doug extended his hand with the gun, pointing it at them.

Had Crystal panned the camera? Was it getting all of this?

The tablet pinged.

“What’s that sound?” Doug asked.

“Oh! That’s just a comment notification. Someone left a message on an earlier video. It’s nothing.” Crystal babbled her answer and jabbed at the screen, hopefully muting it.

“I’m not saying any of this. I’m not taking the fall for
you
setting up your friend. Cliff is your best friend.” Andrea took a step forward.

“Cliff is a selfish asshole who only thinks of himself. I learned a thing or two from him. Sit down and shut up.”

“Why? So you can tell us to say we’re killing ourselves and then actually kill us? Because that’s your plan, right? Can you even do that? Or is that why you needed Kevin?” A deep-seated anger flared up in her, eating away at the numbness, the fear. She was just—enraged. He couldn’t take her life’s work, piss on it, and burn it to the ground. He couldn’t destroy her. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And she wouldn’t let him do it. Not with an audience.

“I killed Kevin’s father, then watched him strangle his mother.” Doug’s face warped, hideous and terrifying.

He’d enjoyed it.

Doug had killed a man—and liked it.

Andrea took a step back, unprepared for that confession.

“Now sit down and record your fucking goodbye speech.” He pulled slide back, loading a bullet into the chamber.

How many times had Andrea watched that happen in videos with Crystal so she could get the action just right? She couldn’t begin to count.

It was different in person.

It was scarier in person.

Kevin had just waved a gun at her.

He hadn’t shot it. Or really aimed it at her.

It’d just been there.

Andrea swallowed.

“I’m sitting. See?” Crystal plopped onto the antique sofa. “Sit, Andrea.”

She couldn’t sit. She had to stall.

As soon as they said whatever would pass for muster, Doug would kill them. He’d have no reason to keep them alive and all the more reason to get rid of them as fast as he could. And he didn’t know they were broadcasting.

“People will think it’s a prank,” she blurted. “We don’t look like we’re about to vlog.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you look like. Sit down!” Doug crossed the distance between them and shoved her back onto the sofa. “Now, look into the camera and say your lines.”

He pointed at the camera and squinted.

Shit.

Did he know the flashing red meant they were live?

Andrea licked her lips and glanced at the paper again.

What did she do?

Zain had told her to comply, but if she did that...Doug would kill her. If she didn’t, there was no guarantee he’d wait them out. And then what?

“Recording in three...two...one...Hi everyone.” Crystal waved at the camera. The fat tears rolling down her face were foreign. Strange. They didn’t belong there.

Andrea stared into the camera, into hundreds of monitors, and said the first thing that came to her. “I’m supposed to tell you today that Crystal and I feel terrible about what we’ve done to the Drudge world. That our gender-bent take on that world was a violation of the trust we built with our audience. I’m supposed to say that Crystal and I hate what we’ve done and we cannot go on—”

“No. No. No!” Doug stomped forward. He had the gun in one hand and a syringe in the other. What was that? Was that how he planned for them to bite it? “That’s not what’s written.”

“The only person I blame for the hate is you, Doug.” Andrea glared at him.

“All right. I see how it’s going to be.” Doug grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her off the sofa, gun pressed to her temple.

“No, Andrea!”

“Sit your ass down on the sofa!” Doug’s hold tightened.

Crystal looked from Andrea to Doug and back. She was being so damn brave—and scared. Andrea would never have known what bravery looked like if it weren’t for Crystal. This woman had taught her how to pop her spine into place and walk into a situation with her head up. To see her helpless and crying was a shame.

“Crystal,” Doug said, “would you please read the script as it’s written?”

“I’ll read it,” she said, snatching the paper Andrea had dropped off the cushions.

“No, don’t do it, Crystal!”

Doug clocked her in the temple so hard her knees gave way and she sat down hard. He knelt, driving one knee into her chest, his hand over her face.

“Take the syringe on the floor. Hold it. There you go. Now, read the script or I shoot her in the fucking face,” he roared.

Crystal’s sobs made the first few words hard to understand. Or maybe it was the ringing in Andrea’s ears. Either way, the beginning was gibberish, but Crystal being Crystal powered through, reading word for word, never once glancing up.

This was it.

They were done.

Dead.

Doug would have no reason to not complete the fake-suicide...and they’d just set up to televise their own murder. At least no one could say there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him.

She’d never told Zain she loved him... That was the real crime of it all. She’d found one person who so totally got her, and now she was going to die.

Zain gripped his gun and crept closer to the house. Gavin was giving him the play by play of the live cast happening in the house. Max would be there any minute with SWAT, but it might not be soon enough. The situation had escalated so much that one second might be too long to wait.

“Crystal’s sitting, she’s talking now. I...don’t know what she’s saying, and I can’t see Andrea. She’s...Crystal’s got a syringe of something and I think—God damn it. She just injected herself with—holy shit! That cat just launched itself off-camera!”

October?

He could hear a muted shout, the sound of a man yelling.

It had to be October.

That attack cat was better than a dog.

“I’m going in the house,” he muttered.

Zain unlocked the kitchen door and pushed it open to the sound of hissing and loud cursing. Two other cats stood just inside the door, a little agitated, their tails poofed out.

“Shhh,” he whispered and stepped over them.

He crept past the kitchen and into the great room, with its miles of cords, flat screens and comfy couches. Doug spat curses like a sailor, and the muted rumblings of an angry cat sounded like October had been contained at the very least. Zain could see enough of the study and Crystal to guess where everything else was at. Crystal’s voice echoed, watery and near breaking, while he couldn’t hear or see Andrea.

“ETA on SWAT?” he whispered.

“Ten out,” Gavin replied.

The girls didn’t have ten minutes.

They were lucky if they had ten seconds.

Zain quickstepped to the far wall and crept forward on silent feet, closer and closer to the study.

“What I’m gathering,” Gavin said slowly, “is that he wants Crystal and Andrea to say they’re to blame for the D7 game, and...they’re committing suicide. Over a game.”

It sounded ridiculous to Zain, too, but these games weren’t their livelihood. They weren’t the bedrock of what they did. But to people like Doug, Crystal and Andrea, whose identity and culture was built around a community that lived and died by whatever game they were hooked on...it was that serious. It was worth killing over.

Zain wasn’t going to lose Andrea to this.

He’d failed her. He didn’t deserve her. But he was going to get her back. One way or another.

He reached the wall that separated the study from the game room. He needed to know the lay of the room, where everyone was—but he couldn’t ask Gavin to tell him.

“You’ve got to be close,” Gavin said. “Crystal is on the sofa, Doug and Andrea are to her right off-camera. I can see light from windows on Crystal’s left.”

Which meant that Doug and Andrea were on the other side of this wall. A few feet from Zain.

He took a deep breath.

“Crystal’s done reading. She’s just looking into the camera now. I’m trying to cut the live feed, but I can’t put a plug in it.”

Zain couldn’t be bothered with what was about to be televised. The only thing that mattered was the girl’s lives.

“Stand up,” Doug said.

Zain peered into the room. Crystal stood, the creased and crumpled paper in her hand. Doug stepped into view, one arm wrapped around Andrea’s shoulders, the gun no longer pointed at her.

“Here’s the thing,” Andrea said, her voice strong.

Be quiet!

“Shut up,” Doug snapped.

“No one is going to believe you,” Andrea blurted out.

“I’m sick and tired of your mouth.” Doug hurled her toward the sofa and took a step back.

Zain straightened.

He sighted, aiming directly at Doug—the same moment Doug raised his hand, pointing his revolver at the girls.

“Doug,” Zain yelled, anything to distract him.

The blast of muzzle fire broke his world into a million tiny bits.

Zain heard himself, the tortured sound of his own voice.

Doug whirled, gun still up.

Crystal screamed, throwing herself on top of Andrea, already slumped sideways on the sofa.

Zain squeezed the trigger.

This close, he couldn’t miss.

It didn’t change the fact that he was too late.

Zain sat next to the bed, his gaze fixed on Andrea’s pale face.

Every so often, she’d scrunch up her brow or maybe wrinkle her nose, as though she were in pain. Each time it passed after a few moments, but he hated seeing her like that.

The bullet had gone clean through her shoulder, but the tissue damage was enough that the doctor’s had put her under—for something. The reasons had escaped him. All that’d mattered was keeping her breathing. Stemming the blood. That’d been hours and dozens of stitches ago.

He’d been too late.

She was alive.

That’s what mattered.

But she could have died.

He’d barely made it in time.

“Mm.” Andrea’s mouth screwed up.

That was a new one.

He sat forward, willing for some sign of wakefulness. The doctors had said she’d come around in time, when she was ready.