Page 5 of Hacker Beloved

“It might be possible to get some information off the hard drive,” CJ replied as he started to pull the side of the computer off.

I knew if anyone could pull the data, it would be CJ. He wouldn’t need my help taking the computer apart. I pulled Zayla into my arms and held her.

“We need to get her back to the safe house,” I said urgently.

“Right,” CJ spun toward us, and his eyes flickered to Zayla’s face. “But…what if she’s poisoned. Maybe we should head to the hospital.”

“We need to get her out of here first,” I said firmly and turned toward the exit. “I would rather call a doctor out to the safe house.”

When we stepped outside, the sun had mostly set behind the Raleigh skyline. CJ climbed into the back of the SUV, and I handed him Zayla. He put a protective arm around her and held her close.

I jumped into the driver's seat and headed through downtown as the streets bustled with the energy of a Saturday evening. I drove, turning off the highway onto a secluded road. The headlights of the SUV barely pierced the thick darkness that had settled over the city.

“How is she?”

CJ’s eyes locked with mine in the rearview mirror. “Her heart rate seems normal, and she’s breathing fine. I’m guessing he gave her a sedative.”

“We’re about fifteen minutes out.”

As I continued to drive, I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, taking the occasional peek at Zayla's sleeping form tucked snugly against CJ. I was relieved that we’d made it to her in time. Over the years, I’d had a few missions where we were moments too late. CJ being in the field gave me a sense of comfort knowing he was by my side. But I also had moments of worry since he could easily get hurt on a mission.

Asher looked over to see CJ gazing at Zayla protectively, holding her small frame in his arms with an almost tenderness. He couldn't help but admire the way his boyfriend looked at the moment, so strong and determined. He felt a wave of love for CJ and for the strength he showed.

A thin smile spread across my lips as I peered at the seven-foot brick wall surrounding the home. Antonio had contacted our friend Xavier Smith and asked if we could use a safe house. The black metal gate stood strong, blocking us from the cypress trees and lush lawn on the other side. It was obvious that Xavier took security seriously, as there were cameras and spotlights hidden among the shrubbery. No doubt, the house contained an armory of firearms and a hardened panic room for any surprise visitors.

I punched in the ten-digit passcode into the keypad, and after a beep, the gates swung open. With a light tap on the gas pedal, I drove my SUV down the tree-lined driveway. At its end, a massive Victorian mansion loomed in front of me. After turning off the ignition, I opened my door and walked around to the back passenger door. CJ had already opened his own door and was lifting Zayla out of the vehicle. But before he could put her down, she was already in my arms, nestling into my chest.

CJ opened the front door. The massive entryway had marble floors and a gold chandelier. I pulled Zayla tighter against my chest as I strode down the dimly lit hallway. A nightlight illuminated the path to the King bed in the center of the room. CJ pulled the white fluffy comforter back and I gently placed her in the center. A soft moan escaped her lips as CJ tucked the blanket around her. I stepped back, unable to take my eyes off her tiny figure cocooned in the large bed.

"Get some sleep," CJ whispered before he pulled me into the hall and closed the door.

Once the door closed behind me, I felt CJ's arms wrap around my waist and his lips crushed against mine. A sharp electric shock passed through my body, fire racing along every nerve. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. “Going in the field with you is a reminder that something could go wrong, and I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Many people took life for granted. No matter how much I wanted to promise, he had nothing to worry about. I knew that was a lie, especially in my line of work. “Let’s get our stuff out of the SUV and work on dinner. I’m not sure when Zayla will wake, but she’ll be hungry.”

We strolled to the common area, and CJ ran to grab our things. Xavier had sent a text message stating the fridge was full of food. I pulled out some cheese, cold cuts, and condiments while CJ set up his workstation on the kitchen island. He had already plugged the killer’s hard drive into his laptop and typed a few commands.

“He used a multiple pass software to wipe the data from the disks.” CJ cursed under his breath as he continued to type.

I cracked open a beer and placed it next to his keyboard. "Any chance of getting the data back?"

"The chances are slim," CJ replied. "He knew what he was doing. I still plan to run it through recovery to see if I can get anything."

I watched CJ work, admiring his determination and focus. I knew retrieving the data was important—not just to Zayla, but for all the victims this man had killed and their families. If we couldn’t get the information, we would almost be right back where we’d started.

“If it doesn’t work, we will find another way to get this fucker.” I slid a sandwich over to CJ, and he glanced up from his laptop.

"We were so close," he said. "I checked with the team, they haven’t found anything new. They are working on canvassing the cameras in the area, but we aren’t even sure what kind of vehicle he drives…Hell, we aren’t even sure it’s a man either."

I took a bite of my own sandwich before answering. “The chances of it being a female serial killer are around fifteen percent.”

“Have you been hanging out with Jessica?” CJ asked.

Jessica McKenzie had married one of my closest friends. She’s an utter genius and obsessed with statistics. During one of our cases, I remember her spouting out the statistical chances of a woman serial killer, and the information had stuck.

"She is like an encyclopedia during a case," I countered. "Do you want to talk about how it seems you're more emotionally invested in this case?"

This wasn’t the first time CJ had gone in the field with me, but it was the first time I’d seen him so worried. When the person wasn’t close to him, I noticed he could dissociate his feelings. From time to time, we spoke about his past, and I figured it was his way of dealing with some of the shit he’d seen.

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