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  The software he and Marq had designed was illegal. Jude knew that. But the way it worked pushed it into the gray area of ethics where hackers thrived. It hid in plain sight, shaving off a fraction of the interest that banks gave to their clients. Every interaction, every account, every day. The system only took a portion of the hundredths and the thousandths place out of the bank statements; never all of it. It was, Jude’s mind argued, hardly anything in the grand scheme of things. Everyone took a slice of the pie; he was just taking a small bit of his own.

  Jude knew Elliot wouldn’t see it this way.

  “You’re hacking again, aren’t you,” Elliot grumbled. Jude recognized the tone: disappointment. Elliot was the single friend who spanned the time before and after Jude had been expelled from high school. Most times, Jude appreciated that fact. Today it was just another barb of annoyance.

  “It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

  Jude focused on lifting weights, his eyes on his reflection in the mirror. He looked terrible: dark circles under his eyes and a face that was far too pasty. Elliot was right. He did need to get out more.

  “It’s never nothing,” Elliot argued. “If you get caught again—”

  “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

  Elliot set the weights back on the rack, turning around and crossing his arms on his chest. Guilt rose along with an old memory. Elliot, standing in his mother’s hallway in exactly the same position, yelling at him. “You’ve got to tell them it was you, Jude! You’ve got to do the right thing!” Jude swallowed hard, remembering the rest of his words. “What would your dad think if he was alive?”

  “Jude, you can’t handle—”

  “Yes,” Jude snapped. “I can.” He did another curl, biceps burning. “You gotta trust me on this.”

  “Trust you? I don’t think so.”

  Jude glanced up in surprise, but Elliot was smirking.

  “Nice,” Jude coughed. “Real nice.”

  “Anyone gonna get hurt?” Jude recognized this tone too: the acceptance he didn’t always deserve.

  “Nope.”

  “You gonna get in trouble for it?”

  “I’m not actually using it,” Jude explained. “Just making it for someone. It’s only programming, Elliot, nothing else.”

  “Programming?”

  “Fine. Hacking.”

  “Juuuude…”

  “And before you ask,” he said tiredly, “yes, I’m covering my tracks.” Elliot raised an eyebrow. “I was sloppy and dumb in high school,” Jude added sheepishly. “This isn’t the same.”

  “You end up losing your job over this,” Elliot said dryly. “Friends off.”

  Jude began to laugh. It was the exact same thing Elliot had been claiming since childhood.

  “You can’t friends off me. You’ve known me since we were six!”

  “And you’re just as stupid.”

  “It’s nothing,” Jude insisted. “Promise.”

  It was almost the truth.

  : : : : : : : : : :

  Indigo wasn’t waiting for him. She didn’t wait around for people, least of all guys. She let them to come to her. They always did.

  Except for Jude Alden, that is.

  Indigo shut down the computer, pulling on her jacket, and standing. Papers were scattered across the surface of the desk, and she raked them into a messy pile before shoving them into her bag. The girl next to her gave her an anxious look and she fought down the urge to yell at her. She was in a terrible fucking mood.

  Two weeks had passed since the day Jude and Indigo had gone for coffee. At the time, he’d seemed pretty determined to see her again and she’d been convinced she was going to see him again the next day. But that class had come and gone, and he hadn’t shown up at all. She’d assumed he’d find an excuse to stop by at break the day after. He hadn’t done that the first week, or the next. Even Shireese had stopped teasing her about him.

  ‘Not waiting,’ her mind hissed, but it still left her wondering what had happened to him.

  Indigo gave Professor Sakamoto a quick wave as she headed out into the hallway. She paused just outside the classroom, glancing up and down, watchful as ever, then aiming toward the exit doors. The film class was driving her crazy, the documentary deadline looming. Sakamoto had reminded her twice that she needed to get some original footage, not just stock video and photographs. Last class he’d brought in one of the university’s cameras and a signed permission form for Indigo to submit to the Media Centre in order for her to use it.

  Still she delayed.

  There were no happy birthday videos of her childhood, no Christmas mornings with pink-cheeked children whining about not getting the Tickle-me-Elmos they wanted. There was just the start of this life: the one which had begun the day Indigo had enrolled in night classes, desperate to get her GED and off the street. To start over. If her life was a book, Indigo thought as she headed out the doors of the New Media wing into the icy wind, then the first hundred pages were blank.

  Indigo pulled the book bag higher on her shoulder, walking faster. The seasons had begun to slip toward winter. There’d been a frost two nights ago, the windows of the apartment weeping the next morning. Indigo hated the cold. It reminded her too much of the memories the now-empty pages used to hold. She knew, for instance, that you could sleep on an air vent from a large building and stay warm enough to avoid frostbite with only a cardboard box as protection. Her expression tightened and she forced the thought away. Film project or not, she had erased those pages and she meant to keep them that way.

  A block from the subway station entrance, the sound of a vehicle approaching caught Indigo’s attention. The horn tapped once and she stepped skittishly sideways, peeking over her shoulder. It was a small, red sportscar. Jude Alden sat in the passenger seat, a guy she didn’t know driving. The car had barely stopped when Jude jumped out.

  “I’ll catch up later, Marq,” Jude called out to his friend. “Give me a call once you drop off the project.”

  The man inside shouted, “Later then!” and the car sped away, wheels squealing. Jude jogged to where she stood.

  “Indigo,” he breathed.

  “Hey Jude,” she said, then rolled her eyes. She hated that fucking song. Jude apparently did too. He groaned.

  “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before,” he laughed, faint ghosts of white appearing with each word. “I was hoping it was you. Couldn’t tell for sure from behind.” He zipped his jacket higher, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It’s great to see you again.”

  Indigo nodded, wondering why the hell she felt so giddy all of a sudden. She should be pissed at him for dropping off the face of the Earth, but she couldn’t help but smile back.

  “It’s good to see you too,” she muttered.

  “You walking home?”

  “No,” she said, nodding toward the entrance. “Taking the subway. Too cold.”

  “Can I walk to the station with you?”

  She shrugged indifferently, starting down the street, leaving Jude to follow.

  “So what’ve you been up to?” he asked.

  “School work. Work work,” Indigo muttered. “Same old, same old.” She glanced up, finding him watching. “You?”

  “Been working on a project with Marq,” he answered. “Goddamned thing was supposed to take a day or two at most, but it ate up two entire weeks.” He chuckled. “Kept wanting to drop by the computer lab to see you, but never had the time.”

  “Huh. Never noticed,” she said archly. “You done now?”

  He grinned. “Finished up yesterday. And I thought maybe, since I had a little time off…”

  He reached out, brushing her arm and she shivered, either from cold or anticipation. Indigo wouldn’t think of which. She stopped walking, moving under the overhang of an abandoned building, the dark stairwell to the subway still half a block away.

  “You thought what, Jude?” Indigo prompted. She was going to make him say it. Make him ask.

  H
e stared down at her, his eyes impossibly bright despite the drabness of the day. They weren’t just green, they were hazel. The pupils were ringed with gold, the outside of the iris so intense it was almost brown, two completely different colours blended as one.

  “I thought maybe I could take you out for dinner.”

  She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling. Instead of answering, she forced herself to wait, watching as his face lost the surety of seconds earlier.

  “Hmmm,” Indigo said, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  Jude’s smile wobbled.

  “Oh, okay?”

  She laughed, his uncertainty leaving her inexplicably happy. Indigo stepped nearer, her fingers pressing against the front of his jacket, eyes narrowed. He stumbled back, taking them into what had once been a shop doorway, but was now just a boarded up cubicle, closed on three sides.

  “Wha..?”

  Before he could finish, she kissed him. It was brief and violent, lips smashing together in a brutal embrace. She wanted to know if he tasted like she remembered, and if her body would respond the way it had months earlier, or if it’d been the alcohol and grief, nothing else. Her hands tightened on his collar, pulling him against her. The second Jude reacted, his hands rising to her waist, she broke the kiss.

  “What was that for?” he breathed.

  “Just wanted to see if I remembered right.”

  His eyes widened.

  “And?”

  She reached out, straightening his collar. “You’re not a bad kisser… for a frat boy.”

  He laughed, the sound warm and easy, and her gaze jumped up to his face. They were still in the overhang of the building, nearly out on the street, but it felt like they were alone.

  “That didn’t count,” he growled.

  A thrill of excitement ran up her spine.

  “And how d’you figure that.”

  “You kissed me, not the other way around,” he said. His words were low, and darker than they’d been before. He reached out, his hand gripping her elbow. “That kiss doesn’t count.”

  Indigo smirked. Manipulative. She hadn’t expected that from him. She liked that. It scuffed up his squeaky clean surface. Made Jude interesting in ways she hadn’t expected.

  “Well,” she scoffed. “I’m not sure you deserve a second ch—”

  She never had time to finish.

  This time he was the one who started it; he reached out, cupping her face and pulled her forward into a rough kiss. One hand slid into her hair, the other wrapping around her back as he pushed her against the plywood sheet that covered the windows. His lips were rough and insistent, his tongue pushing into her mouth rather than waiting for permission. In seconds, he had her pinned in place, one foot between her two, his hips angling against her as if they were in a dark bedroom, not exposed to the bright light of midday. Indigo moaned, the sound catching her by surprise. Her hands slid up his chest to wrap his neck, legs weak.

  This was what she remembered.

  He broke away from her, though one hand stayed against the back of her head, buffering her from the wood, the other still looped around her waist.

  “Wow,” she panted.

  “I take it I passed?”

  “Yeah,” she replied shakily. “I s’pose you did.”

  “Good,” Jude said, the hand in her hair slipping down to stroke her neck. “Then let me take you to dinner. Friday alright?”

  She nodded, and Jude stepped back, letting go of her altogether. The wind rose, leaving her chilled where she’d once been warm. Indigo fought down the urge to reach out for him again, pinning her arms to her side instead. She didn’t do that either.

  “I’ll call you tonight,” Jude promised. “We can talk about it then.”

  Indigo stared at him in confusion. “But you don’t even have my number.”

  He grinned, his eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, I have my sources.”

  Chapter 5: Tyrone “King” Fischer

  “So are you going to talk to him?” Shireese asked.

  She and Tanis sat at the kitchen table folding flyers for the band while Indigo washed dishes in the sink behind them.

  “I did talk to him,” Indigo said. “We’ve got plans for Friday.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” Shireese said dryly. She lifted a pile of flyers, setting them into the box next to Tanis. “He’s gonna find out at some point.”

  Indigo picked a plate out of the sink, dropping it with a splash into the rinse water, her fingers swirling the surface. When she didn’t answer, Shireese pushed on.

  “When he asks about you, you’re gonna have to say something,” she said. “Might be easier if you tell him on your own.”

  Indigo fished several clean dishes out of the water, arranging them in the drying rack before pulling a tea towel from the oven door. She turned around, leaning against the sink, her eyes on the middle distance as she dried the plates.

  “He won’t ask,” she grumbled. “He only knows me from the university.”

  Shireese glanced up, eyebrows raised. “He’ll ask eventually. You leave it too long, it’ll make it harder to explain.”

  Indigo set the plate down onto the counter with a clatter, and Tanis jumped.

  “I don’t know why you’re going on about this,” Indigo growled. “It’s dinner. Nothing else!”

  “You said that about coffee,” Shireese replied. “And yet here you are.”

  Indigo swore under her breath, tossing the dishtowel to the counter. Rising from the table, Tanis nervously cleared her throat, moving past Shireese and heading into the living room without a word.

  “If I were you, I’d tell him before you’re in too deep,” Shireese added.

  “Well, you’re NOT me!" she snapped, her hands rolling into fists.

  Shireese gave her a level glare.

  “You’re the one who said ‘never again.’ You did! I’m just reminding you.” Shireese folded one last flier, then tossed it in the box. She lifted her chin, daring Indigo to argue. “You were the one who said, ‘don’t ever let me—”

  “Jude comes from someplace nice,” Indigo hissed. “He wouldn’t understand!”

  Shireese scowled, sudden anger passing between the two women like lightening. In the other room, a television flicked on, the sound a comforting buzz neither noticed.

  “You say that like you believe it,” Shireese snarled, her accent changing, taking on an insolent inner-city burr. “Like you’ve already told him and you haven’t even tried!”

  “I told Cal, alright! It fucked EVERYTHING up! So thanks for nothing!”

  Shireese stood from the table.

  “That had nothing to do with me!”

  “Hardly!” Indigo sneered. “He coulda gone on forever without knowing.”

  “Cal was an asshole,” Shireese yelled. “He just needed an excuse to show it!”

  Indigo gave her a hard smile. “And you just LOVED that, didn’t you!”

  Shireese’s lips twisted.

  “Go on then, feel sorry for yourself! You’re good at that.”

  Indigo’s mouth dropped into an indignant ‘o’, but in seconds she was back on the offensive. “And who says Jude’s not an asshole too?” she taunted. “Huh? Who says he’s any better than the rest?!”

  “Is THAT what you’re lookin’ for? A fuck up?” Shireese snapped. “’Cause you’re just gonna dig yourself another hole then!” Her eyes narrowed. “And I’m only gonna help you out so many times, Indigo. I’ve got my own problems too, y’know!”

  In the living room, Tanis cranked up the volume on the television another notch. Canned laughter filled the kitchen.

  “I don’t need anyone’s help!”

  “When you’re acting like THIS?” Shireese coughed. “Yes, you DO!”

  Indigo’s feet widened, fists upraised. It was the stance of a fighter, ready to attack.

  “I’m NOT your goddamned project,” she bellowed.
“So you can go FUCK YOURSELF!”

  “No,” Shireese growled. “You’re the only one who gets off on that.”

  With an explosive blast of swearing, Indigo shoved past Shireese and into the hallway. Tanis was watching her, wide-eyed, but Indigo didn’t stop. She grabbed her purse, heading out the door.

  In the kitchen, Shireese stood silent for several more seconds, breath slowing. Her face lost the antagonism, growing weary instead. With a shake of her head, she walked to the drying rack, picked up the first dish, and began to dry.

  : : : : : : : : : :

  Marq stood on the sidewalk outside the office building, his foot tapping nervously. It looked like any other downtown high-rise, but the guard who stood at the front door made it clear this was not a place you walked in off the street. The man scanned the people on the sidewalk from behind mirrored glasses, his voice hard and cold.

  “You need to wait here, Mr. Lopez,” he ordered, putting his hand in his pocket so that the lapel of his jacket pulled back just enough for Marq to see the gun in its holster. “I’ll call up to see if Mr. Fischer is ready to see you.”

  Marq took a shaky breath, wiping sweaty palms on his pant legs and waiting.

  The last time he’d done a job, Luca had dropped off the money at the same time he’d picked up the hard drive. Marq hadn’t needed to do anything other than show up at Starbucks. He wished that they’d been able to do it the same way this time too.

  Being here made it real.

  The lock behind them buzzed, and Marq swivelled, catching sight of Luca’s grinning face in the open doorway. Tall and blond, he was built like a body builder, the suit and tie he wore at odds with his physique.

  “Marq, my friend!” he laughed. “I was wondering when you’d get here.” He stepped back, pulling the door wide and gesturing for him to come forward. “Come in! Come in!”

  Luca Brin wasn’t someone you fucked around with. Until a few days ago, Marq had known only a fraction of what he did: passing along jobs and recruiting people for hacking projects. But after yesterday’s call, that had changed. The moment Luca had told him that King wanted to see him, everything had fallen into place.

  Tyrone “King” Fischer was a man who needed no introduction. He was the city’s mob boss; a man who political candidates rallied against during elections, but who politicians in office never spoke of. Rumours said that half the police force was on his payroll, and that he had ties to crime families across the United States.