But Katrina... from the first time we hung out together, we just clicked. Her father had brought her by on one of his visits to see Pops. We liked the same games and even had the same hobbies. When I went through a phase where I was into building plastic car models, she was right there with me. She'd help me cut out all the parts from the tree and sand the edges, making sure each piece fit perfectly. Her hands were steadier than mine, so she'd always paint the individual pieces before the two of us would work together on the final assembly. Going to the same school meant that we got a decent amount of facetime together, but we were pretty much inseparable even outside class. Riding bikes, doing homework... all of it. She got me through my times tables, and I helped her with learning how to swim in our pool.
I'd almost grown out of the plastic model phase when she dropped out of my life, and yeah, it left a hole inside me. Now she's back... and she's pissed. Considering what Nathan told me, I can understand. I don't like Pops either. In fact, the only person in my family I even respect is Andrea. But Pops... fine. He's scum. But how am I supposed to break away? Andrea talks about it, but the only step she’s taken toward it is getting her MBA. I've never even thought about college, and my only skill is knowing how to party. That's good for about fifty cents above minimum wage if it weren't for Pops' money.
I shake my head and go inside, leaving the door to the garden open. I head back toward the guest bedrooms, when a cough behind me catches my attention.
“Nathan,” I say after I turn. “Didn't think you'd still be dressed in your suit.”
Nathan looks down at his black linen suit and brushes a bit of lint off his lapel. “I didn't think I'd find you... dressed,” he replies. Nathan looks pointedly at the door where I’d just been with the two girls, then shrugs.
“Wasn't feeling it tonight. What can I help you with?”
Nathan reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a slip of paper. “An address. You were looking for it. She lives in a warehouse over on Market Street.”
I look down at the numbers written on the paper. “And you haven't told Pops?”
Nathan shakes his head. “Not until you find your answers. I told you, Jackson, I've got some debts to balance out. Or maybe in my mind I just keep seeing the little girl that Katrina Grammercy was when I first met her. I've done a lot of nasty things in my day, Jackson... but I don't touch kids.”
I nod and fold the paper up, putting it in the pocket of my shorts. “I see. Thank you, Nathan. And sometime... perhaps we can have a cup of tea again.”
Nathan, who's already turned to go back down the hallway, stops and looks back. “I'd like that. Have a good night, Jackson.”
Chapter 7
Kat
I'm inverted, my feet pointing straight in the air as I lower myself on the two steel bars which let my head dip lower until my hands are next to my ears before pushing up, locking out. Seven. Three more and I can kick back down and let my shoulders rest a little bit.
I lower myself, sweat dripping off my nose to soak into the wooden floor below me, and push again. Eight.
I focus on the pain, tasting the metallic tang on my tongue and savoring the electric fire that runs up from my elbows to my spine. Soon enough, I may not feel anything at all except the eternal satisfaction of vengeance before Peter's men tear me apart. Nine.
One more. I can do this. My elbows are shaking, but I can make it. Don't cheat yourself, there's nothing that can bring defeat faster than cheating yourself... now PUSH! I push, and in my mind I see the fire rolling across the concrete ceiling of the parking garage, hungry and reaching for me after it's already taken my parents' lives. It's coming, ten years later now to claim me, but claim me it will...
Ten. I kick over and land on my feet, shaking out my arms. I don't need my pills yet, in fact since the night with Jackson I've only had to take them once. Still, the image of the explosion is hot in my brain, and I have to do something constructive before the anger morphs into depression. I know the pattern, but I'm going to fight it this time.
I grab the sandbag next to my handstand bars and lift it, whipping the forty-five-pound bag up and onto my shoulders. I start crossing the floor of my loft with long, lunging strides. Each one brings me nearly to the floor before I force myself to rise and take the next long step.
I'm on my second trip back across the loft when my computer beeps from the corner. Darcy's little setup on the shipping company she wants me to crack is tougher than I thought it'd be, and I wonder if she's calling me on time. I still have thirty-six hours left on the deadline that she gave me though, even if my tools are still barely chipping away at the firewall, still searching for that elusive crack. I know one has to be there, so it's just a matter of patience, processing power, and tools.
I set my sandbag down and see that I have an IRC chat window up on my screen. Only Darcy and a few others have my IRC handle, although it's not that hard to figure out if you know my hacker name. I mean, CDGrace and Coup De Grace aren't really all that different, after all.
But I don't know this IRC handle at all. Blue Sakura... intriguing. Maybe it's one of Darcy's Japanese contacts?
CDG-Hello.
BS-You're a hard woman to find.
CDG-I prefer my privacy. Who are you?
BS-An ally.
CDG-An ally? In what? I can count my allies on one hand.
BS-An ally who agrees with your vendetta against Peter DeLaCoeur.