Read Online Remember Me by Romily Bernard - Free Book Online Page A

company’s enterprise-wide root password.” I shrug. “Pretty much full access to passwords, source codes, credit card numbers . . . I also set every channel in his cable box to Disney.”
    Milo’s eyes flicker. “Say it again, but this time, do it in a breathy voice.”
    â€œPervert.”
    He grins, his teeth werewolf white against his darker skin. “I’ve been following you for years. Never thought we’d meet. Or that you’d be . . .” Milo’s gaze climbs down me. It should feel dirty, only, somehow, it’s more like he’s assessing me in terms of my jobs. And he’s impressed.
    It’s kind of flattering.
    Maybe more than kind of.
    â€œI worked for Group Eight,” Milo adds. “We were all big fans.”
    G8? Huh. That was a tightly run outfit. They did good work until the Feds brought them down. I remember really liking how they . . . crap. No way am I admitting I’ve been admiring Milo as well.
    â€œAre we going to talk computers or not?” I ask.
    â€œI thought we were,” Milo says, motioning for us to follow him through the restaurant. The main dining room is filled with dusty tables pushed up against each other, the chairs long gone. Milo pops behind the counter and through the kitchen—unused as the dining areas—and into what must have once been a storage room.
    Long stainless steel counters line the walls, snake nests of Ethernet and power cords spilling from their tops. I’m picking my way through the tangle, trying not to trip, when the wires pinned to the wall catch my eye. I stop dead.
    â€œAre those explosives ?”
    Milo looks over his shoulder, gaze following mine to the small red boxes attached to the wall. “Yeah. It’s a hobby of mine. I rigged the whole place. Supernova in, like, fifteen seconds. Eighteen, tops.”
    â€œJesus!”
    Milo smiles. “I’m even better.”
    Next to me, Griff clears his throat, his hand finding the small of my back. “How do we know your dad won’t return for a second shot?”
    â€œWe don’t. . . . I don’t think he will though.” Milo pulls out a couple of chairs shoved into the corner and offers me one. “He’s not dangerous. It’s just, like, an episode. He gets them sometimes—especially when he’s off his meds.
    â€œLook, your little girlfriend is fine.” Milo smiles again. This time though it’s forced, lips pulled up with strings. He glances in my direction, catches me staring at him. “See something you like?”
    â€œYou wish,” I say, turning a small circle to take in the room. There’s dead takeaway piled in the trash can and the floor doesn’t look like it’s been vacuumed in weeks. Typical. Computer geeks are such slobs. If his mom shows up, the cliché will be complete.
    Well. Almost complete. Milo’s computers are pristine. The desk is wiped clean, no food within spilling distance, the cords are neatly tied together—even the screens are dust free. It shouldn’t matter, but I like him a little more because of it.
    â€œSo.” Milo drops into a roller chair and spins it to face me. “Talk. What kind of system do you need?”
    Eyes on Griff, I give Milo the quick run-down on what I need and who I’m up against, and when I finish, the builder lets out a low whistle.
    â€œSo to get to your guy, you have to go through Barton and Moore? That’s a high-end target.”
    I glance at Milo. “Too high-end for you?”
    He smirks. “Not at all. I’ll do it.”
    And there’s something about the way Milo says it that makes the whole thing sound like fun. I grin because, for this really weird second, it feels like I get Milo—really get him—and it’s so strange and funny I turn to Griff, expecting him to laugh like I want to laugh.
    But when our eyes meet, I can tell