Page 6 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

It would be so easy to shoot him. Take him out and save Julieanne the hassle of telling him there won’t be a second date. Not that I’m interested in making her life hassle-free. I just don’t want this loser fucking up my plans.

Because I need to make sure Julieanne wishes shenever heard of GHOST. That she understands breaking into my system was the worst mistake she’s ever made.

The hacking community is small and everyone knows everyone. It goes with the territory. I need to make an example of her. To put the fear of God into my little thorn so she tells all her friends I’m not someone they should go up against.

I won’t hurt her. Even I have limits. But I will do whatever else it takes to make sure it’s clear that fucking with GHOST—fucking with me—is a mistake no one else should make.

I linger on the roof of the office building across from the restaurant a while longer, watching as her idiot date barely stops talking to take a breath, flapping his jaw like he’s the most interesting man in the world, and leaving Julieanne with nothing to do but sip her wine and nod. Looks like my little thorn is nicer than I expected. Too nice to tell a prick like that to fuck off.

That means I have plenty of time to do what I need to do.

After packing my binoculars away, I give the restaurant, and the woman just behind the glass, one final look before ducking through the roof door and taking the utility stairs all the way down to the main level. I’m not exactly inconspicuous here, and even though it’s late enough the office building seems quiet, it’s still a weeknight and I don’t want to risk being seen.

Because I want to prove I’m just as capable as I’ve always been. I might not be on the front line of ops anymore, but I’ve worked hard not to let my skills slip. And this trip offers me the chance to prove it. Even if no one else knows it but me.

Following the same path I used to get in, I move through the isolated corridors leading to the back of the building. Outside it’s just as quiet, so I quickly jog across the street to where my borrowed SUV is parked, load up, and pull away.

The drive to my next stop is short, under ten minutes, but the change is dramatic. The large buildings of the city's edge are quickly replaced with a more residential area. The copious number of townhomes are close enough you could walk into the city during warmer weather, but far enough away to keep prices down. I'm not sure what led Julieanne here, but hopefully it wasn't the relative safety of the area.

Because I'm about to blow the lid off every sense of security she has.

I park in the lot of the building next to hers, right beside a fenced-in dumpster to offer cover if I need it. I don’t expect to. It's cold and dark, so there aren't many people milling around. The ones who are, pay no attention to me. They're too busy trying to get where they need to go while the wind whips at any bit of skin bared to the chilly air.

Going straight to Julieanne’s unit, I ignore the cold as I circle to the back side of her condo. It looks out over the man-made pond places like this dig to catch all the runoff caused by flattening out acres of land. The fountain in the middle of the pond is still running, piling a pillar of ice around its base and sending a frozen mist into the breeze, making this area colder than the parking lot and further reducing my chances of being seen by someone out for a late-night stroll.

I reach the small patio at the back of Julieanne’stownhome and do a quick scan to confirm no one’s watching. After seeing the coast is clear, I step into the seat of one of the cheap plastic chairs on her patio, using the added height to reach the ledge above me. It takes all of twenty seconds to climb my way up, boots hitting the solid surface as I drop into place. Thankfully, an overhang shelters it from the elements, so there’s no snow to leave footprints in or risk tracking into the condo.

Pulling the lock picking kit from my pocket, I lift my eyes to the handle of the sliding door, reaching out to test it. Surely, she wouldn't be stupid enough to—

It opens easily, making me grit my teeth as I step into the room on the other side.

Julieanne’s bedroom.

Even in the dark, it’s obvious her home isn’t going to be what I expected. I’ve only seen her up close once, but she was all softness. Her skin. Her hair. Even her fucking voice.

I expected her home to be just as soft. Pink and cream and filled with throw pillows covered in velvet and fake fur. Something overtly feminine. Like she is.

This is not that.

This is... Sparse.

Her bed’s big, but just a mattress and box spring set on a metal frame. The nightstand beside it looks like it came in a flat box with assembly instructions. The room is almost sterile. Definitely depressing.

And doesn’t have a single fucking throw pillow in sight.

Maybe that's why she left her door unlocked. Anyone who did decide to come in would discover there was nothing worth stealing and walk right back out.

But I’m not here to steal her shit. I’m here to steal her sense of security. To take whatever dumbass streak of bravery possessed her to think I’m someone she can play with and grind it into dust.

Methodically moving through the upper floor, I catalog the layout, noting doors and windows before moving down the stairs, checking for creaks as I go. The main living area is just as bare as the rest, with only a sofa, a television on a cheap stand, and a couple of second-hand end tables filling the space. The nicest room is the kitchen. It has a surprising number of appliances lining the counters, along with a jar of something sticky and foamy I have no interest in inspecting. It's easy to identify this room as Julieanne’s favorite spot in her home.

So it’s what I’m going to ruin for her first.

2

BAD DATES AND GOOD VIBRATIONS

JULIEANNE

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