Read Online The Givenchy Code by Julie Kenner - Free Book Online Page A

beginnings of a hellacious headache, my eyes burned with unshed tears, and my feet ached and burned. I wouldn’t let myself cry, though. I had to stay sharp, because for all I knew, I was still in danger.
    I sat on the edge of the couch, then bounced back up again.
    I paced some more.
    I opened a Diet Coke, then spit it out, too tense to swallow.
    “Melanie?”
    “Quiet,” I snapped. His voice was soft, calm and soothing, but I reacted as if he’d just shouted at me. I drew a breath and tried to calm down. “I just need a minute.”
    He didn’t push again, and I gave him points for that.
    After a few deep breaths, I tried sitting down again—this time at the little table in the tiny area that the real estate agent had called a dining room (with a straight face, no less). “Okay,” I said, managing to stay put. “Let me get this straight. You got this message with my profile attached, and you immediately raced to my apartment looking to protect me? Forgive me if I find that more than a little curious.”
    I still hadn’t told him about Todd, and he hadn’t said anything. I’d locked my grief away to deal with later, and now Todd’s death was information—a cold, hard fact that, when revealed, would hopefully reflect on my Marine companion’s face. Guilt, surprise, sorrow. I didn’t know. I just needed Todd as the last piece of the puzzle. I was playing off my boyfriend’s death to hopefully save my ass, and I felt like shit doing it.
    I didn’t think I had a choice.
    Marine man was at the kitchen counter, popping the top on another soda. So far he hadn’t answered my question, but I wasn’t inclined to prompt. Let’s see what he fabricated.
    When he turned around, his expression was hollow, guarded, as if he feared he might reveal too much. It wasn’t an expression that encouraged me to warm to him.
    “A girl named Jamie Tate,” he said. “Recognize the name?”
    “No. Should I?”
    “I don’t know. With all this…” He trailed off, then shrugged, leaving me to guess what “all this” was. “I just thought perhaps your paths had crossed.”
    “Not that I know of. I suppose she could have some classes with me, but I don’t know her.”
    He nodded toward the computer. “Look her up.”
    “In the game? I can’t access her profile unless we’re assigned to the same game set.” I frowned, something else occurring to me. “So how did anyone get my profile? I mean, surely PSW didn’t really send someone out to kill me.” I laughed, the sound more of a cackle, which is my usual unattractive nervous laughter. I figured I had reason to be nervous. “I mean, that would be taking reality shows to the extreme. Reality computer games?”
    “Snuff games at that,” he said, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think PSW’s behind it. But maybe someone who works there is. Or maybe one of the players is just taking the game a little too seriously.”
    “But he has my profile.”
    “If he plays PSW, most likely he knows his way around computers. He could have hacked in. Or maybe he’s played against you before.”
    I stifled a shiver as I tilted my head back to look at him. “You could have hacked in. I could have played against you before.”
    “But I didn’t. And you haven’t.”
    I stared at him, my mind mush. “What did you mean when you said your profile should have been deleted a long time ago?”
    “I meant that I’ve never actually played the game. I figured the system would cull inactive profiles.”
    “If you never played, why are you in the system at all?”
    “A buddy of mine played all the time. Convinced me to sign up. I filled out the profile but never got around to actually playing a game. Got shipped off to Iraq instead. By the time I got back, I’d had my fill of danger and intrigue in the real world. I wasn’t really interested in killing or being killed on the Internet, too.”
    “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. Should I ask him about the war, about what it