Code blue, p.31
Code Blue, page 31
He smiled. “I guess. Do you always have to make sense?”
“I try.”
“So do you think I’m bi?” He frowned. “I mean, I’ve always liked women, but then there’s you, being shirtless and sexy as fuck, and with your strong arms and hairy chest. And I really liked sucking your dick earlier and I’d really like to do it again. So I’m guessing that’s something maybe bisexual guys think about?”
I laughed and leaned up so I could kiss him. “Maybe.” Then I looked down at my chest. “I don’t have a hairy chest.”
“You got more hair than me.”
I laughed again and Maddox’s phone rang. Jeremy groaned and grabbed it off the coffee table. “Dickbag. I’m trying to—”
He stopped talking and frowned. He looked down at the phone and pressed the speaker button.
It was Maddox. “. . . turn it to the news. It just came on.”
Jeremy turned Netflix off and found the news channel. A female reporter stood outside a police station. “. . . according to a statement released by Platinum Entertainment, she was wanted by the FBI and local police in relation to cyber fraud against Platinum Entertainment and threats made against Jeremy Dalton of the band Atrous.”
Oh my god. What the hell happened?
“Just to recap,” the reporter said, “twenty-two-year-old Californian woman, Jacqueline Sosa was found dead at the scene.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jeremy and I sat, side by side, staring in horror at the television.
“Jacqueline Sosa had allegedly hacked into Platinum Entertainment’s mainframe and attempted to sell all company shares on the stock market. Not for her own personal gain, but it would seem that for no other reason than an attempt to simply seek control of and bankrupt the company. Platinum Entertainment CEO Arlo Kim has said in a statement,” the reporter read from her papers, “that the ‘transaction would have seen control of the company released to the public.’ The illegal breach was caught by authorities before the transaction could proceed.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jeremy mumbled. He looked at me, bewildered.
“Are you hearing this?” Maddox asked through the phone. “What the actual fuck?”
“Jacqueline Sosa had also allegedly gained illegal access to the phones of each member of Atrous, the band, and threats had been made against Jeremy Dalton.”
Then the reporter put her hand to her ear, listening to her producer. Her eyes got wide, excited.
“This just in, we can also confirm, a website has played forty minutes of what appears to be the home security footage of Jeremy Dalton’s home.”
My pulse pounded in my ears.
The news cut to a black-and-white screen of Jeremy’s backyard. Of me in the pool, of Jeremy talking to me. Of me getting out of the pool, of Jeremy touching my scars.
I felt sick.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed, turning to Jeremy. I imagine his expression matched mine.
Horrified.
Then the footage cut to the drunk-singing party for a few seconds, and I knew it was coming . . .
Jeremy falling into the pool. Hitting his head. Maddox diving in after him, followed quickly by me.
I could hear Maddox and Roscoe saying something but couldn’t quite make out the words over the pounding in my ears.
The room tilted and was suddenly hot.
Then the footage cut back to the reporter. “The site has been removed, the IP address one of many believed to be used by Ms. Sosa.”
“Turn it off,” Jeremy whispered. He got to his feet and screamed, “Turn it off!” He threw the remote control at the TV. It cracked the screen and the resolution, but the reporter still droned on. Jeremy stomped over and ripped the TV from the wall. It clambered to the floor with a mighty crash, cords pulled from the drywall.
He screamed, hands clawing the air. Then he saw the laptop on the coffee table, picked it up, and threw it at the glass door with such force it shattered.
The sound cut the air like gunfire but Jeremy wasn’t done. I’d never seen him this angry.
He grabbed the modem and yanked it from the wall. He trudged through the now-broken door and launched the modem into the pool. He went to the laptop, which was open and upside down on the broken glass, picked it up, and threw it into the pool too.
Then he turned his ire at the security camera. He looked around for something to throw at it, and the closest being only a deck chair, he attempted to hurl it at the camera, but missed. He tried a second time and let out a frustrated growl as he spun it the way an athlete would throw a discus . . . It was a worse shot than the first. He managed to take a chunk out of the wall, though.
“Fuck!” he yelled.
I went to the patio table and took out the sun umbrella, made sure the canopy was closed and secured, and I handed it to him.
Should I have stopped him? Should I have tried to calm him down?
Probably.
But his anger, his fucking rage, was warranted.
He smiled as he took the umbrella. A few good whacks and the camera was on the ground.
Maddox and Roscoe arrived as Jeremy was taking the umbrella to the camera at the front of the house. The red sports car pulled up at the front and Maddox got out of the driver’s side and raced up just as Jeremy smashed the camera down.
“Jer, my god,” he said, throwing his arms around him. “You okay?”
Jeremy was breathing hard. He was clearly not okay. He pulled away from Maddox. “Better now,” he said. Then he stalked back inside.
Maddox followed and Roscoe gave me a solemn nod as he went in after them. They stopped in the living room, Maddox and Roscoe staring at the smashed door, the damaged wall.
Jeremy, on the other hand, was now trying to look at the bottom of his foot.
Maddox noticed. “Are you bleeding? Jeremy!” Then Maddox shot me a look and gestured to the damage. “What the fuck happened in here?”
I put Jeremy over my shoulder and carried him to the kitchen, sitting him on the counter. “Let me have a look,” I said, taking his foot.
It was a small splinter of glass that I easily removed. I wet a paper towel before gently running it over both soles of his feet. “Feel any more in there?”
He shook his head and he gave me a weak smile. “No. Feels okay.”
He was lucky it was tempered glass and had shattered into pebbles, not huge shards.
“Uh, Jeremy?” Maddox said, looking a little panicked. Roscoe had his hand on Maddox’s back.
“I’m okay,” Jeremy said. “Just lost my shit for a second, that’s all. Got rid of all the cameras, internet, that kind of thing.”
I saw his old phone, still in the container of rice, sitting on the far counter. I took it out and handed it to him. “You forgot one.”
He scowled at the black screen so I put him over my shoulder again and walked him out, through the broken glass, to the patio. I turned him around and he laughed as he tossed it into the pool.
But then Wes was there with Special Agent Zielinski. “What the . . . ?” Wes was obviously confused. He pointed his thumb at Zielinski. “I let him in. You need a goddamn phone. Jer, we came over as fast as we— What are you doing? And what the hell happened in your house?”
I set Jeremy on his feet and held onto him for a second, in case he got dizzy. I probably shouldn’t have had him upside down over my shoulder.
Zielinski motioned to the back door. “Did something happen? Was there an incident we should know about?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “I ripped the TV off the wall. And every electronic device I own is taking a swim. I just had my life broadcast on the internet by some deranged fucking bitch.” He pointed toward the shattered door and yelled, “From my own fucking house!”
Zielinski came over and peered into the pool, seeing the various devices at the bottom. “They could have been evidence.”
Jeremy snarled and I thought he was going to lunge at him. I grabbed him and held him back. “Zielinski, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t have to be here if either of you were contactable by phone.” He looked at us both. “I take it you’ve seen the news.”
“Whose idea was it to release a statement to the press?” Jeremy asked. “Yours or the company’s?”
Zielinski put both hands up. “That was your people. I just came here to tell you personally what happened because I had no way to contact you. Because you don’t have a phone.”
Jeremy grimaced at the pool before he looked back at Zielinski and shrugged. “And there’s a very good chance I won’t be getting another one. Ever.”
And then, because of course, Luke and Blake arrived with Ambrose in tow. They walked out to the patio wild-eyed. “What the fuck happened inside? Jer, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, though he was clearly annoyed at Ambrose being there.
Ambrose could tell too. “I got here the same time as Luke and Blake,” he said sheepishly. “I tried calling . . .”
Jeremy looked at me. “That settles that. I’m never getting another phone.”
“Let’s go inside,” I suggested. I gave Jeremy a piggyback over the broken glass, and everyone watched us. Whether they were looking at me shirtless or at my scars or at the way Jeremy wrapped his arms around me, I didn’t know and I didn’t care.
They all know about the stabbing now. Let them see the scars.
I walked him to the dining table and lowered Jeremy onto a chair. And yeah, when I turned around, everyone was staring at my scars. “I’ll just go put a shirt on,” I said. I did feel better once I was dressed, a whole lot more professional, anyway.
When I walked back out, all the boys were sitting at the dining table, Maddox near Jeremy, as always. Roscoe stood, leaning against the side cabinet, Ambrose next to him.
I chose to stand by the door.
Zielinski stood at the head of the table as if he was giving some official FBI briefing. I dunno, maybe he was . . .
“We finally got a pinned location on Ms. Sosa, and when we arrived, we found her already deceased. She had four laptops, several smart phones, scramblers, and scanners. All of her computers have been taken into evidence, but there was a lot of stock trading data, from what I could see.”
“Was her death self-inflicted?” Jeremy asked quietly.
“There was no obvious outward indicator of the cause of death,” he replied. “No sign of a struggle, no disturbances. There’ll be a full autopsy.”
“Was she really trying to hijack the company?” Maddox asked.
Zielinski gave a nod. “It would appear so, yes. To be honest with you all, I’m not the expert on cybercrimes, and the final reports aren’t in yet. From what I’ve been told, she’d gained access through some encrypted firewalls and was just about to drop one hundred percent of the company onto the stock exchange in a free market.”
“Do we know why?” Luke asked.
Zielinski shook his head. “No concrete motives. And given Ms. Sosa now can’t tell us, all we can do is put together a chain of events.”
“And that website?” Jeremy asked. He looked a little pale. “She had direct feeds from my security cameras. How the hell’d she do that?”
“That drone that connected to your Wi-Fi,” he replied. “From what we can tell, she only had footage up until the first password change. Nothing after that.”
That still wasn’t comforting.
“And,” Zielinski said, “she had footage from all your homes. Not just here.”
“The fuck?” Blake cried.
“She had them all loaded to go live, but for whatever reason, she never pushed the go button.”
Jesus H. Christ.
“For what it’s worth,” Zielinski added. “If she was taken into custody today, she’d have been charged with piloting an illegal aircraft in California airspace, personal information infringement charges, possible terrorism offenses. That drone she used was a serious weapon. And highly illegal.”
“She did all that just to destroy us?” Maddox asked. “I could maybe understand if it was for money. If she had all that technology and the know-how, she could have cleaned us out. All of us, individually and the company. But she just wanted us to lose it all and not benefit from that? I don’t get it.”
“It’s personal,” Roscoe said. “There has to be something that ties her to us.”
There was.
“Me,” I said, still leaning against the doorway. “What did Chase Hystek say? You said he was being interviewed today?”
Jeremy turned in his seat and he gave me a tired but sweet smile.
Zielinski, on the other hand, looked at me like shit on a shoe. “He admits to knowing her. They met through a pen-pal exchange. Denies any involvement, of course. Said he didn’t even know you were working for Platinum Entertainment until she told him.” He paused. “He said Ms. Sosa was good entertainment value and that she was, and I quote, ‘unhinged.’”
“So, is it over?” Jeremy asked. He scrubbed his hand over his hair and swallowed hard, and his knee bounced and he did that blink/squint thing I now recognized as a pre-hypo warning. He was pale now. “Uh, Steve?”
I ducked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of juice and rushed to put it on the table in front of him. He nodded quickly and I patted his shoulder.
“Okay, we’ve heard enough. Thank you,” Maddox said to Zielinski. He put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Jer, you okay?”
Jeremy nodded and drank his juice, his hand trembling.
Maddox looked at me, then at Roscoe, and he shook his head. “Twice today. That’s not good.”
“Jer, you look like shit. Should we call 911?” Wes said worriedly.
“No,” Jeremy said. “Just call Hardwick.” He let out a shaky breath. “It just hit me fast, that’s all. I’m sorry.” He grimaced. “My back is killing me.”
I kneeled down beside Jeremy, feeling his clammy palm and trying to get a good look at his eyes. He slow blinked and licked his dry lips. He was not good. Roscoe was already on the phone to Hardwick.
“Jer,” I said quietly. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital.”
He met my eyes and gave a nod. There was no fight in him at all, and that told me enough. He wasn’t in good shape.
“No ambulance,” he whispered. “It’ll be a circus.”
I looked up into his face, cupping his jaw. He was still too pale for my liking. “Okay.”
“Hardwick’s on his way,” Roscoe said.
I glanced over at Luke. “Can you get more juice please?” Then I looked at Maddox. “Can you find his glucose meter? I can’t remember where we had it. On the coffee table or beside his bed.”
Maddox gave a nod and disappeared.
“I’ll be going,” Zielinski said quietly.
“I’ll walk you out,” Ambrose said. “And I’ll wait for the doctor.”
Luke came back with the juice and Jeremy drank half of it, then gave me a nod to signify he was okay.
Drained, but okay.
He was going to the hospital though. If I had to drag him there myself.
I stroked over his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “You’ll be fine.”
Then Maddox came back with the meter and a packet of strips. “Here,” he said, handing them to me.
I took Jeremy’s finger and pricked it on the side, knowing his fingertips were a bit sore. I applied the strip to the spot of blood, then to the reader.
I knew Blake and Luke were watching me with him, and I was almost certain Wes had put two and two together.
I didn’t care anymore.
I’d leave it up to Jeremy, of course. They were his friends, his brothers. If he wanted them to know, I wouldn’t hide it.
The way Jeremy held my hand pretty much told them anyway.
The machine beeped. “It’s low,” I said.
Jeremy nodded, as if not surprised at all.
I squeezed the back of his neck a few times, massaging, soothing. “You feel okay?”
His gaze lifted to mine, slow and tired. “I hate this.”
“I know. We’ll get you feeling better soon.”
Giving Jeremy some privacy, Luke, Blake, and Wes cleaned up the living room, righting the TV and sweeping up the broken glass. Maddox never moved too far from Jeremy, sitting with him and giving him the occasional squeezy back-hug until Hardwick arrived.
The doctor didn’t waste any time.
He came in, put his bag on the table, and shooed me and Maddox away. He sat in the seat next to Jeremy, took his wrist, and measured his pulse while he spoke to him. “I’ve called the clinic. They’re taking you tonight. The mess in the other room? Was that you?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Rage, stress, physical exertion. It’s no wonder you crashed,” Hardwick said. “You’re just damn lucky it happened now and not when you were asleep or you might not have woken up.”
Jeremy nodded again.
Hardwick took the glucose meter and looked at the last readings. “What did you intake? Juice, candy?”
“He had about eight ounces of juice,” I answered for him. “And his reading didn’t get over four. He ate salmon, brown rice, and salad two hours ago.”
Hardwick sighed and patted Jeremy’s leg. “Well, the clinic’s the right choice tonight, huh? You were supposed to take it easy today. I gave you a list of three things to avoid, remember?”
“No stress, sex, or booze,” Jeremy said.
“Hm, and? How did that go?”
“Well, I didn’t drink alcohol,” Jeremy said, trying to smile.
Maddox snorted and shoved me. “Not the bed rest you were supposed to put him on.”
I shot him a glare and ignored the glances that Wes, Luke, and Blake exchanged. “Doc, Jeremy said his back’s sore.”
Hardwick frowned but he nodded. “You’re definitely going in tonight. Maddox, can you please pack him a bag? Two to three nights.”
“Three days?” Jeremy cried. “No way.”
Hardwick clearly wasn’t in the mood. “You’ll stay for as long as you need. Three days isn’t long.” He spared me a glance. “It’s a secure facility. They deal with a lot of famous people.” Then he nodded to Roscoe. “Might want to organize a police escort out of here, if Ambrose hasn’t already. There’s a lot of media at the gates.”
