Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Kev gave me a reluctant smile, but I could tell he wasn’t completely okay with what had happened. And he was right. That was exactly how I’d been treating him.
“Okay,” I said, sitting up and reaching for his shoulders. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Can we talk about where you learned—”
“Sorority self-defense class,” he said, a little too fast for me to catch.
I opened my mouth before his words sank in. Then I closed my teeth with a clack.
Kev climbed off the bed and began shuffling toward the bathroom. “Long story,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be telling it in the shower if you’d care to hear it.”
I didn’t hear much of the story, to be honest, but I heard enough to understand I needed to avoid all Vanderbilt Chi Omegas from now on. What I did hear was the gasping whimpers of a wet and hard Kevin Rogers when I went down on him.
This time, he knew better than to sink to the floor with me.
Doing surveillance on Kevin was not hard work. Imagine getting paid to stalk your crush. My eyes stuck to him like duct tape until I realized he was geeking it out with our fellow HOG superfans, who were all dressed as spelled mushrooms, magical ponies, and fruit orcs.
Meanwhile, I dove into the data from Vince’s Horn. We’d prioritized the financial transactions and drug movement history data on all of the Horns because going through the chat logs was extremely time-intensive and not very rewarding. Several of Champ’s lower-level agents had been combing through the chat logs in an attempt to identify additional people of interest. It wasn’t easy to differentiate between a benign in-game contact and a communication associated with the cartel.
It took me forty minutes before I recognized a name that was out of place in Vince’s chat logs.
“What the fuck?” I slowed my scrolling and scanned back up the log.
Anomaly451: Return to homestead.
Anomaly451: Exchange power beacon for sparrowflox powder!
Anomaly451: Pumpkin Butter Booster is compromised.
Anomaly451: Target NaboEnojado7 for exchange.
Anomaly451: Return to homestead.
Anomaly451: Abandon homestead.
My heart began to pound wildly. As it so often did, this one piece of information was the linchpin, the crucial missing key to the code that brought the whole puzzle into focus.
And once it was, my heart raced even faster.
I checked the surveillance monitor and saw Kev still happily chatting with a woman in a Marigold Fairy costume. She was waving a magic wand in one hand and a drink in another.
He was safe. For now.
I quickly dialed Champ’s number, never taking my eyes off Kev’s video feed.
“Boss, I got something.” My voice sounded steadier than it felt. Inside, I was horrified. My brain scanned at Mach speed through every memory and snippet of information I’d learned of Anomaly from Kev. “Vince is targeting Kev… or, or… he at least knows Anomaly451, who’s tried to befriend Kev in the game. They—Anomaly and Vince, I mean—have been exchanging power beacons for sparrowflox powder and talking about Pumpkin Butter Boosters, and I think they might share a homestead.”
There was a beat of silence. “Jesus Christ, this fucking game. English, Huxley. Lay it out for me without mentioning a single fairy-tale creature or magical tuber. This plane is getting ready to take off.”
“Actually, Champ, a pumpkin is a gourd, not a—”
“Huxley.”
“Right. Okay. So this guy, Anomaly, has cultivated a friendship with Kev in the game—talking to him, questing with him, et cetera—for weeks, at my guess.”
“And he knows Vince?”
“According to Vince’s Horn chat logs, they’ve communicated repeatedly.”
“Why would he want to play the game with Kev? You think he knows Kev’s related to us? Does he want access to Horn of Glory Corporate?”
I grabbed my hair and yanked. “No, I think it’s way more targeted than that. I don’t know exactly when they started chatting, but I’d bet it was right around the time that Tommy Drakes got Buck Nutter’s Horn from the flea market, or maybe… maybe when we got involved by bringing Buck home from Venezuela. I think while Vince was trying to convince Quinn to give him information about you, Anomaly was trying to find out what we knew a different way. Through Kev.”
“Shit. Did Kev give him anything?”
“No,” I said with no hesitation. “Kev knows better than to fall for a phishing scheme. If Anomaly had ever mentioned Champion Security, Kev would have caught him out instantly. But he kept asking Kev rando, semi-related questions, like how he’d secure digital data. And Kev told me that Anomaly kept trying to score an invite to Kev’s house. When Kev backed off, Anomaly insisted on meeting him here, probably hoping to soften him up so he’d get an invite later.”
Champ grunted thoughtfully, which was a wholly inadequate response to the situation.
I found it necessary to repeat this last part in case I wasn’t clear the first time. “He’s insisting on meeting with Kev, Champ. Kev, who is all alone downstairs at the meet and greet right now.”