Page 6 of Deadly Hacker

“Some of us did that over the weekend, too,” Miguel muttered to Emma Jean. She clamped her lips shut to keep from giggling.

“I think we should go around the room and tell the group our goals for this week,” Stacy suggested energetically. “I’ll start!”

“Of course,” whispered Miguel. Emma Jean elbowed him.

“I, for one, am looking forward to helping a pair of world-class bodybuilders regain some muscle after a sports injury this week. These guys are used to throwing their weight around, but they’re feeling pretty down about their muscle loss. That’s where I come in! First, I’m going to build up their confidence, and then we’ll build back their strength. One of these guys is traveling in from Utah to train with me,” Stacy boasted. “Thuy, you next!”

Thuy, a tall and slender woman with a curtain of glossy black hair, cleared her throat. She said, “This week I’m starting a new program with a class of children with muscular disorders. We’ll be doing the typical hydrotherapy plus a little water-safety course.”

“Making great use of the pool, as always!” Stacy chirped. “Miguel?”

Miguel straightened his posture and said, “Well, I’m adding a new aspiring Paralympian to my healing cardio set this week. Oh, and I finally have enough pupils in my general spin class that I’m hosting an additional hour on Thursday afternoon to accommodate everyone.”

“Fantastic! Get those guys back out on the track where they thrive!” said Stacy. “Next up are Quinn and Kaylee: admin team, go!”

Kaylee and Quinn were the thirty-somethings who comprised the administrative team for the gymnasium. While they didn’t run any kind of physical course, it was up to them to keep inventory, manage payroll, and maintain customer satisfaction.

Quinn adjusted her purple cat-eye glasses and said, “Well, as you know, our beloved security guy Franklin retired just last week after nearly ten years with the team. Of course, no one can completely fill the void left by his absence, but this week Kaylee and I are holding interviews for the position.”

“There’s no huge rush,” said Kaylee. “The complex has its own pretty standard security measures in place, so our personal security up here on the fourth floor is largely a formality.”

“Still, it’s nice for our clients to see a friendly face when they come up that elevator, so we hope to find a suitable replacement for Franklin as soon as possible,” added Quinn.

“Perfect. Keep me updated about the interviews, ladies,” said Stacy. “Emma Jean! What do you have planned for the yoga studio this week?”

Emma Jean perked up. “Well, in addition to my usual relaxation classes and yoga therapy sessions, I have another group joining the roster. Now, my classes are pretty full already, but I’ve made time on the Thursday schedule along with Miguel. This new group is extra important to me because they’re all students from the very same certification program I did at UNLV. I’ve been coordinating with professors from the program and we believe it’s vital for these aspiring practitioners to understand the courses from a client’s perspective, too. So they will be joining me for the summer semester. I’m really excited to show them an inside look at the work they could do someday.”

“Wonderful!” Stacy cheered.

“Oh! And I’ve got a couple new kids joining me on Friday for Little Tykes Day. As you all might remember, on Fridays I hold classes specifically designed to help kids with disabilities like juvenile arthritis stretch, flex, and learn all about what their bodiescando as opposed to what they can’t do. The sessions focus on pain relief, improved flexibility, and just having fun. It’s such an honor to teach these kids. I really feel like I get even more out of it than they do,” Emma Jean gushed.

“Sounds great, EJ. I’ll make sure to stop in during Little Tykes Day to see how much fun everyone is having and chat with some of the parents,” said Stacy.

She went on, prompting the rest of the staff members to share their weekly plans. Emma Jean tried to be present and pay attention, but her mind was already drifting through her own plans. Even though she enjoyed every session she led, there was no denying where her passion really lingered. Working with kids fed her spirit like nothing else.

Emma Jean was a bright, optimistic person. It took a lot to steal her smile. Still, the loneliness of being far from home did get to her sometimes. She also worked a lot, so it made having a social life rather tricky. A love life seemed beyond possibility, even though Emma Jean had so much love to give.

Working with those kids consumed the majority of her focus. As long as she had their recovery and happiness to concentrate on, she could ignore the ache of loneliness within herself.

Besides, her life was already so good. What more could romance bring her?

CHAPTER3

RAD

Rad glanceddown the long table at his fellow Bratva members. They were gathered, as they often were, in Mikhail’s formal dining room to discuss recent and upcoming missions. It was summertime in Las Vegas, and the table was heavy with borscht, blini, and caviar. The Sokolovs’ in-house cook, Polina, flitted in and out of the room, carrying in dishes fresh from the kitchen. Rad took a sip of his drink, a tall glass of kvass. It tasted a little briny and bitter for his liking, but he kept his assessment to himself. In moments like this, Rad felt more conspicuously American than he normally did among the rest of the crime family. Some of the dishes Polina lovingly prepared were an acquired taste, but thankfully, he had in fact acquired them by now.

Besides, food was hardly the centerpiece of their gathering. It was less a dinner party and more a debriefing session. Rad looked forward to these meetings; he loved the camaraderie and the excitement of future missions. Despite not coming from the same world as his fellow mafia brothers, Rad felt at home. He knew his skills were vital to the crime family’s success, and he was eager to discuss the recent kidnapping and resolution.

“Thank you, Polina. What a glorious spread,” Mikhail told the beaming chef.

She gave a little bow and ducked out of the room. Rad heard the faint cry of Mikhail’s twin babies upstairs and knew Polina was rushing back to help Annika with them.

“So,” Mikhail began, leaning forward, “tell me about this kidnapper who so foolishly decided to target one of our own.”

Luka spoke up first. “The idiot’s name was Igor Fedorov.”

“Was?” Mikhail asked, a dark smile creeping across his face.

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