Page 11 of Hacker Beloved

“For the record, I wear underwear!” Zayla exclaimed as she spun on her heel and stomped across the room toward her dresser. She yanked open the top drawer, letting out a haughty huff of disdain.

I knew the top drawer was filled with a rainbow-hued collection of granny panties.

Asher took two large steps forward, peering into the drawer with an expression of disbelief. “Hell no! I'll order you some proper undergarments.”

"You can't dictate what I wear."

"My safe house, my rules." His dominance filled the air as he countered her objection.

"This is crazy!" Zayla grabbed a fistful of her undergarments and stomped back to the bed in protest. "I'm bringing them."

Zayla tugged at the zipper of her suitcase. Once it was closed, she hoisted it off the bed. She turned and headed for the hallway her ass swayed with each step. Asher and I were only a few steps behind her when she reached for the living room door, but before she grabbed the handle we heard a loud bang against the front door. Immediately, I stepped in front of Zayla, and Asher stood to my right side with his gun drawn. He nodded at me before I reached forward and opened the door.

A short woman dressed in a white shirt partially torn staggered into the house. Blood soaked through her shirt, staining the fabric a deep red. Her eyes sought out Zayla's as if trying to confirm something between them.

"Miranda?" Zayla asked uncertainly, pushing lightly against my side, but I remained standing firm.

"Stay back," Asher commanded harshly. But Zayla ignored him and took a few steps closer to Miranda.

“What happened?” Zayla asked, her voice tight.

The woman cradled her left shoulder in her hand. “I woke up in pain, and there was a stranger standing over me. He said I had to tell you that I’m your punishment.”

She turned to us for help, desperation evident on her face.

“Let me take a look at your shoulder,” the woman nodded, but then her eyes rolled back, and Asher caught her before she fell to the ground.

Her body started jerking violently, and white foam poured from her lips. We rushed to get her to the couch, but it was too late; her pulse had already faded away. Zayla sobbed next to us as Asher attempted compressions, but he soon realized that nothing could be done to save her. I placed my hand on his back and told him softly to stop.

Zayla buried her face in her hands, her body shaking as sobs escaped from deep within. Dread sat heavy in the air as I pulled her into my arms, trying to soothe her with gentle words. "We need to go," I said softly. "The cops will be here soon, and we have to get back to the safe house. We can't stay here."

Zayla shook her head, refusing to move. "We can't just leave her," she argued, staring at me with a plea in her eyes.

I looked toward Asher for help, silently thanking him when he stepped forward and said, "You two should go ahead. I'll call the cops and wait for them to arrive. You can drive around in circles on the way back if you think someone is following you." He paused, then added, "I'll be home shortly."

He kissed me quickly before pulling out his phone and dialing 9-1-1.

I tried to push back my fear and focus on the road ahead, but it was difficult. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I had a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I drove, my eyes scanning the area around me for any signs of movement. Every time a car got too close to us or another vehicle weaved in and out of traffic suspiciously, I would take an alternate route and made several random U-turns.

Zayla sniffled next to me, her face reflecting the fear I felt inside. Still, no matter how many times I glanced into the mirror, I couldn't spot anyone following us. So, with a heavy heart, I finally drove toward the safe house.

"Let's head in and have a glass of wine," my words seemed to pull Zayla from her anguish, and she nodded while wiping her eyes. I collected her suitcase and bag from the back of the SUV and followed her inside.

"Why don't you go change into something more comfortable?" I suggested, "And I'll find us a bottle of wine."

"Okay."

Zayla turned down the hallway toward the bedroom. I followed behind her and placed her bag in her room. Then I took her equipment to Xavier’s office before descended into Xavier's impressive wine cellar. Among shelves of aged bottles, I found two wines that I thought appropriate for our evening together. Unscrewing one, I headed to the kitchen and poured two glasses before returning to the living room. Zayla was curled up on the couch in a warm sweater, so I handed her a glass of wine and sat beside her.

I took a deep breath and set my glass down on the coffee table. I looked over at Zayla, her face still a mask of sorrow. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay, but I knew that was impossible. We both knew that her friend would never be coming back.

"Asher will get some answers," I said softly, my voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Zayla nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. "How did he time her death?"

I furrowed my eyebrows and took a deep breath. It was clear the situation was far more complicated than I had originally thought. "I don't want to jump to speculating, Zayla," I said. "Asher will work with the cops, and we'll get a full toxicology report. The team is meeting this afternoon as well to give a briefing on what they found about your past."

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