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Authors: Gail Barrett
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Still feeling jumpy, he ran his gaze from the woods bordering the river to the town’s medieval walls. At the end of the bridge was the high stone puerta that had once comprised the entrance to the fortified town. Forbidding watchtowers flanked the opening, their arrow slits and crenellated battlements as sinister as the somber clouds.
“So how do you know this hacker?” Paloma asked from beside him, worry threading her voice.
“I told you. Through Rafe. Supposedly he’s some kind of genius—got a degree at MIT.”
“So why isn’t he working for the government or doing some high-level corporate job?”
Dante stopped at the foot of the arched stone bridge and shrugged. “He’s never said.” And Dante would never ask. Something had driven Miguel Calderón underground, but it wasn’t his place to pry.
The wind gusted again, chasing dried leaves over the path and making the pine boughs creak. Then the shadows shifted beneath the bridge. Dante tensed, his pulse thudding hard as a man emerged on the slope. But it was only Miguel.
The tall, lanky hacker loped up the hill, closing the distance between them with ease. Then his gaze landed on Paloma, and he stopped. He pushed his black-framed glasses farther up the bridge of his nose as he checked her out, a cautious look entering his eyes.
“Are you Miguel? I’m Paloma Vergara,” she said, extending her hand.
He shook her hand and mumbled a greeting, then shot Dante a questioning frown.
“We’re working together on this,” Dante explained, handing him the laptop and bag of disks.
Miguel tucked them under his arm, his gaze traveling to the princess again. “It shouldn’t take long. I’ll call you when I’ve taken a look.”
Dante gave him a grateful nod. “And you’ll cover your tracks? We don’t want anyone to know that it’s been hacked.”
Amusement glinted in the hacker’s eyes. “Don’t worry. No one will have a clue.”
“Thanks. We appreciate that.” Dante turned his gaze to the café where he’d parked his bike, that unrelenting feeling of danger prodding him to leave. “We need to go.”
Paloma added her thanks to Miguel, and they headed across the road. “He didn’t ask any questions,” she said. “Doesn’t he care what this is about?”
“Questions can get you killed. In this business, the less you know, the safer you are.”
She shot him a startled glance. “That sounds paranoid.”
“That’s reality. This isn’t some fairy-tale kingdom, Princess. At least not for people like us.”
She opened her mouth, looking as if she intended to argue. But Miguel called out from the bridge. “Dante, wait!”
“Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ll meet you at the bike.” He turned around and walked back. “Yeah?”
Miguel kept his gaze on Paloma, waiting until she was out of earshot before he spoke. “Just a heads-up. I saw a huge contingent of guards coming into town.”
Dante stilled, suddenly alert. “Where are they now?”
“About three kilometers out.” Miguel’s eyes turned grim. “I haven’t seen that many troops in weeks, not since the lockdown after that assassination attempt.”
A chill slivered through his gut. And he knew with a bone-deep certainty that those guards were hunting him. “Thanks, man. Be careful.”
“Always.” Miguel hesitated. “But what’s with the princess? You think we can trust her in this?”
“I hope so.” Especially now that he’d involved Miguel.
The cold wind gusted again, raising shivers on Dante’s neck as he headed across the road. Those guards had to be after him. He’d been caught on camera with the princess, leading them to believe he’d abducted her. Now they would scour the town, searching his business, his house, every bar he’d ever set foot in to smoke him out. And if he were smart, he’d forget that visit to the coroner, hightail it back to his palace and hide.
But with the security noose tightening around him, this might
Still feeling jumpy, he ran his gaze from the woods bordering the river to the town’s medieval walls. At the end of the bridge was the high stone puerta that had once comprised the entrance to the fortified town. Forbidding watchtowers flanked the opening, their arrow slits and crenellated battlements as sinister as the somber clouds.
“So how do you know this hacker?” Paloma asked from beside him, worry threading her voice.
“I told you. Through Rafe. Supposedly he’s some kind of genius—got a degree at MIT.”
“So why isn’t he working for the government or doing some high-level corporate job?”
Dante stopped at the foot of the arched stone bridge and shrugged. “He’s never said.” And Dante would never ask. Something had driven Miguel Calderón underground, but it wasn’t his place to pry.
The wind gusted again, chasing dried leaves over the path and making the pine boughs creak. Then the shadows shifted beneath the bridge. Dante tensed, his pulse thudding hard as a man emerged on the slope. But it was only Miguel.
The tall, lanky hacker loped up the hill, closing the distance between them with ease. Then his gaze landed on Paloma, and he stopped. He pushed his black-framed glasses farther up the bridge of his nose as he checked her out, a cautious look entering his eyes.
“Are you Miguel? I’m Paloma Vergara,” she said, extending her hand.
He shook her hand and mumbled a greeting, then shot Dante a questioning frown.
“We’re working together on this,” Dante explained, handing him the laptop and bag of disks.
Miguel tucked them under his arm, his gaze traveling to the princess again. “It shouldn’t take long. I’ll call you when I’ve taken a look.”
Dante gave him a grateful nod. “And you’ll cover your tracks? We don’t want anyone to know that it’s been hacked.”
Amusement glinted in the hacker’s eyes. “Don’t worry. No one will have a clue.”
“Thanks. We appreciate that.” Dante turned his gaze to the café where he’d parked his bike, that unrelenting feeling of danger prodding him to leave. “We need to go.”
Paloma added her thanks to Miguel, and they headed across the road. “He didn’t ask any questions,” she said. “Doesn’t he care what this is about?”
“Questions can get you killed. In this business, the less you know, the safer you are.”
She shot him a startled glance. “That sounds paranoid.”
“That’s reality. This isn’t some fairy-tale kingdom, Princess. At least not for people like us.”
She opened her mouth, looking as if she intended to argue. But Miguel called out from the bridge. “Dante, wait!”
“Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ll meet you at the bike.” He turned around and walked back. “Yeah?”
Miguel kept his gaze on Paloma, waiting until she was out of earshot before he spoke. “Just a heads-up. I saw a huge contingent of guards coming into town.”
Dante stilled, suddenly alert. “Where are they now?”
“About three kilometers out.” Miguel’s eyes turned grim. “I haven’t seen that many troops in weeks, not since the lockdown after that assassination attempt.”
A chill slivered through his gut. And he knew with a bone-deep certainty that those guards were hunting him. “Thanks, man. Be careful.”
“Always.” Miguel hesitated. “But what’s with the princess? You think we can trust her in this?”
“I hope so.” Especially now that he’d involved Miguel.
The cold wind gusted again, raising shivers on Dante’s neck as he headed across the road. Those guards had to be after him. He’d been caught on camera with the princess, leading them to believe he’d abducted her. Now they would scour the town, searching his business, his house, every bar he’d ever set foot in to smoke him out. And if he were smart, he’d forget that visit to the coroner, hightail it back to his palace and hide.
But with the security noose tightening around him, this might
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