Reagan Through the Looking Glass (Hacking Wonderland, #1) Page 3

  “Ms. Lidell, it’s been a tough week for you. Before you respond, take a few days to think about it,” Dr. Dunlop said.

  “I’m sorry—what am I thinking about, exactly?”

  Dr. Dunlop’s smile wilted at the corners, and pity lingered in her gaze. “Whether or not this topic is the best use of your time. Your initial theory is sound, but consider whether you might be better served with a new proof.”

  “I’m satisfied with what I’ve chosen.”

  “As I said, give it a few days to simmer in your head.” Dr. Dunlop stood and gestured to the door. “I have other meetings. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Reagan let herself be ushered into the hallway, struggling to grasp the right protest. Where was she going to find anyone else with the same kind of experience as Wayne? She could adjust her thesis, but it wouldn’t change her desire for answers about Jabberwock.

  The viewing and funeral were on Saturday. The chapel was crowded with former and current students, as well as staff. Wayne might have been paranoid, but he was also a good guy, liked by most people who knew him. She let her attention trip over faces, some familiar and others not. She stalled on a man in the back row. His blond hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell past the collar of a black suit. Even seated, it was clear he was tall and slender. His face, chiseled and handsome, stole her thoughts and made her stare.

  He met her gaze, hazel eyes boring through her, and she jerked away as heat flooded her face. What was it about him? He didn’t look like he belonged here, but she couldn’t say why. He also seemed familiar, in an eerie way that clung to her memory but didn’t shake anything loose.

  Whispers rolled through the room as everyone took seats in the chapel.

  “Such a wonderful man... can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “...a bit off his rocker, though...

  “...conspiracy theories... nutty... hope he’s finally at peace.”

  At the wash of doubt and gossip, Reagan clenched her jaw until it ached. It was worse that the eulogy contained a lot of the same.

  She wanted to stand up in the middle of the church and scream that these people had no idea what was going on in the world around them. Men in shadows making deals and deciding fates with no checks and balances.

  “Hey. You all right?” Mindy nudged her.

  Reagan yanked herself from her head and looked around the room. People were filing toward the exit. She must be extra distracted, to not realize it was over. “I’m good.”

  “Are you up for the cemetery?” Mindy studied her, concern lurking behind her gaze.

  Reagan nodded and fell into step beside her roommate. They reached the church steps, and she spotted a man leaning against a tree, across the street. Hatter. Her stomach dropped into her shoes, and she stopped.

  “Watch it.” Mindy tugged her arm.

  Reagan moved out of the flow of traffic and whirled to face the people behind her. “Sorry.” She looked back over her shoulder, and he was gone.

  “What’s up with you? Is it just the funeral or something else?” Mindy asked.

  “Nothing. The funeral. School.” Reagan’s thoughts weren’t on the conversation. She searched their surroundings but saw no sign of him. But she hadn’t imagined it this time. It wasn’t a trick of light or her overactive imagination. Even from that distance, she swore she’d felt his pale eyes boring into her. An afterimage of him had pressed itself on her thoughts.

  Mindy pursed her lips. “Okay. Should we go?”

  “I’ll meet you there. I need a little time. Please?”

  “I get it. Catch up when you’re ready.”

  Reagan surveyed the church grounds from her spot at the top of the stairs, as the procession thinned. Then, there was no one else around but her. She didn’t see Hatter. He hadn’t simply vanished. Where did he go?

  “Reagan Lidell?” An unfamiliar male voice greeted her, and a hand rested on the small of her back. “I didn’t think I’d find you alone. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  She whirled to find herself face-to-face with Ponytail-Man from the church. “How do you know my name?” It wasn’t the politest thing she could have led with, but whether he was handsome or not, his lead-in had her heart grinding against her ribs.

  “I know a lot more about you than you realize.”

  Chapter Four

  The stranger’s greeting did the opposite of calming Reagan’s thoughts. The way he approached her—the familiarity in his tone—combined with the events of the last week sent adrenaline spiking through her veins.

  She broke away from his touch and headed toward the parking lot. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t look to see if he followed. If he could hear her. “I need to catch up with my friends.”

  “Can we go someplace quiet and talk first?” He matched her pace.

  “I’m going to the cemetery.”

  “I assumed you would. We can regroup after, if that’s better for you.”

  She paused and turned to face him. “It’s not. No meeting is better for me, since I don’t know you and have no clue who you are. Go away or I’ll scream.”

  “I just want to talk.”

  “And I just want an island in the Pacific.” Reagan forced sarcasm into her voice to keep her fear from shining through. “I don’t know you. I don’t like that you approached me alone. My friends are waiting for me, so leave now, or I’m calling the police.”

  He held up his hands. “Introductions come with talking. Leave if you’d like, but I’m following you anyway.”

  “Great. At least you’re honest about the creepy.” She resumed her path to her car, quickening her step. She wanted to sprint, but wouldn’t give this persistent asshole the satisfaction. Besides, it was hard to run in these shoes.

  “I was asked to keep you safe.”

  That a random stranger thought she needed to be kept safe added a new spark to the churning inside. “If I’m concerned that’s an issue, I’ll go to the police.” She was impressed with herself, for keeping her voice from cracking. She reached for the car.

  He stepped in her way, eyes flashing hard and cold. “And if you do, you’ll be dead the moment you walk out of the police station.”

  Ice slid through her veins. “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  A harsh laugh slipped out. It was better than a sob. “Bullshit, you are. You threatened my life.”

  “What?” His eyes grew wide, and he moved out of her way. “No, I... Oh. I guess I can see... I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I’m an acquaintance of Wayne’s. I’m here to help you vanish off the radar.”

  “I’ve got it covered, thanks.” Something new caught her eye. Her front tire was flat. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Do you keep the spare and jack in the trunk?”

  On any other day, at any other time, under any other circumstances, she’d probably be flattered at the implication he was going to change the flat for her. “I’ve got it. Thanks.” As she spoke, his gaze drifted toward the trees at the far end of the church parking lot. “Excuse me?” Could she drive this thing any distance as it was? If she walked to the nearest convenience store, would he follow? Maybe heading back into the church was her best bet. “I can see you’re busy. I’ll be on my way.’

  “Shh.” He didn’t look at her.

  Her irritation spiked, pushing aside fear. “Hello?”

  He grabbed her wrist and yanked her down next to him as he dropped into a crouch. He covered her mouth and locked his gaze on hers. “I’ll be clearer.” A growl cut through his whisper. “Shut the fuck up.”

  And here was anger. She preferred it to the fear that wanted to resurface when she tried to break his grip and couldn’t. She raised her other hand, and his eyes hardened.

  “Stop.” The way he said the word rolled down her spine like freezing water. “Someone out there is watching us. Watching you, I suspect.”

  Hatter?

  “Everyone else is gone,” he continued. “I
f I pull my hand away, you’re welcome to scream or rant or whatever the hell it is that gets you off, but only I and whoever is out there will hear you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. What else was she supposed to do? In her head, she calculated if she could sprint to the church or the convenience store faster. In the church she could bolt the door. Call the police. Hide.

  She started to rise the moment he let her go. An ear-shattering bang ripped through the air. The window next to her head exploded, glass shards flying everywhere. A scream tore from her throat without permission.

  Did someone just shoot at her? Was it Hatter? Instinct took over, propelling her away from the stranger. She pumped her legs as fast as she could, sprinting across out in the open asphalt, eyes on the chapel doors.

  “Reagan,” the stranger called after her.

  She pushed so hard, her calves burned, but she was at the steps. A few more seconds, and she’d be inside.

  Someone tackled her, and she skidded to the ground. Gravel got embedded in her shins. The stained-glass window next to her exploded with the sound of another gunshot, distracting her from the pain.

  “Stay down.” Ponytail-Man held her in a crouched position. He wedged the church door open a few inches and pushed her inside.

  Another shot, and the wood above her head splintered, spraying both of them as he followed her into the building. Keeping a tight grip on her arm, he half-led, half-dragged her toward a confessional booth and pushed her in. He squeezed in next to her.

  “Keep your fucking mouth shut,” he said, voice so low, she barely heard him over the hammering of her pulse in her ears.

  She nodded, not sure she could speak if she wanted to.

  He reached for something under his jacket. When he pulled a pistol from a concealed holster, her heart threatened to tear from her chest. Seeing a gun drawn while she was under fire was on a different universe from shooting one at an indoor range. What the fuck was going on?

  A creak carried from the front entrance, and through the curtains, she saw the shadows move and shift.

  Ponytail-guy raised his gun, and she bit the inside of her cheek, to keep from whimpering. Please don’t let anyone get shot.

  The front door clattered shut, and she heard a muffled, “What?” from outside, followed by the crunch of shoes on glass. “Yeah... Running.... Should... she’s... All right. I got it.” It wasn’t Hatter’s voice. The realization wasn’t any comfort.

  And then, there was nothing. Or maybe she couldn’t hear over her screaming pulse. Seconds ticked away, and tears stung her eyes, while bile burned her throat.

  “Don’t move.” Ponytail-guy mouthed the words as much as said them. “Will you listen to me this time?”

  She didn’t even know if she could make her legs work. He might be the only thing holding her upright. She nodded.

  He moved the curtain aside to slide from the booth without a sound. She strained to hear. Through a gap she saw him move along the front wall, under the windows, gun ready. He raised his head to peek through the glass, then ducked again. He pushed open the door a crack, then straightened and stepped outside.

  Was he gone? How long until he came back? She should run, but fear froze her muscles. She willed herself to move. To get the fuck out of Dodge.

  The curtain ripped open, yanked from a direction she couldn’t see, and her heart lodged in her stomach.

  It was Ponytail-Man.

  “It’s safe now.” He held out a hand.

  Her mind was done working. She accepted the offer of help and let him pull her into the room. He looked her over, gaze lingering on her legs. realized glance down told her they were covered in scrapes and dried blood. So the pain wasn’t all fear.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. Concern replaced his sharp tone from moments earlier.

  She shook her head.

  “Will you let me take you someplace safe now?”

  “Who are you? I don’t even know what to call you.” She still didn’t trust him, but he wasn’t the one shooting at her, so he had that going for him.

  He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Hare.”

  Another recurring character from the Wonderland books. She choked off her laugh before it could become a sob. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not meant to be. I don’t know why they left, so I don’t know if we’re safe here. Can we go?”

  “Okay.” She didn’t know what else to do. The sarcastic bit of her pointed out that if she wanted to find Jabberwock in his digital Wonderland, she had to follow the white rabbit. She argued with her sarcasm that this was March Hare, and White Rabbit was an entirely different character.

  He pointed her toward the back of the building and led her out a rear exit. With each new step, as fear turned into numbness and adrenaline ebbed, the ache in her legs grew.

  In a parking lot across the street, he helped her slide into the passenger seat of a battered Honda sedan.

  He took the driver’s spot and started the engine. He looked at her. “I, uh... I knew your brother. Alex always spoke about you like you were at the center of his universe.”

  She clenched her jaw, and a whimper escaped through her teeth. “Bullshit.”

  He studied her, brow furrowed and concern in his eyes. “He used to call you Ray. Too bright for your own good?”

  The familiar, teasing jab sank into her bones until her joints ached. Alex did do that, and as far as she was aware, no one but he and Reagan knew that.

  “Trust me long enough to get you out of here?” he asked.

  “But as soon as we’re safe, you explain what’s going on.”

  He didn’t say anything else on the short drive, and she didn’t ask. She had no idea where to start, without sending her thoughts spiraling out of control. They pulled into the back lot of a motel, and he let her into one of the rooms. If she had to guess, she’d say he paid cash for this place. Probably didn’t have to show his ID or prove who he was in any way.

  No one would have any idea where he was, even if they’d seen her with him. The thought should terrify her, but given that she’d been shot at, anonymity sounded like an acceptable risk.

  “Have a seat.” Hare pulled a chair from the desk, gripped her fingers, and helped her settle in. “We need to clean up those scratches.” The threat was gone from his voice, along with the arrogance and assumption. Only kindness lined his words.

  “Okay.”

  He dug through a black duffel bag next to the bed, and a moment later produced a small pouch. He set that aside and vanished into the bathroom. She heard water running.

  Her thoughts swirled with the sound, as she tried to make sense of what happened. She couldn’t.

  He emerged a moment later with a washcloth and knelt at her feet. When he brushed the loose gravel from where it her skin, she clenched her jaw and hissed. When he pressed the hot washcloth to the open wounds, a gasp tore from her throat, despite her efforts to the contrary.

  “I’m sorry.” He looked at her, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I’m trying to be gentle.”

  “I can tell.” She hadn’t been this scraped up since she was a girl. Her mother was forever getting upset with her, for the spills she took on her bike and the multiple pairs of jeans she ruined in the process. All to keep up with Alex.

  The memory of him clenched like a fist around her heart, and she bit back a sob. He’d always been there for her, and now...

  “Did that hurt?” Hare asked.

  “No. It’s fine.” She used the sharp sting of his cleaning her wounds to stay grounded in the present.

  A few minutes later, he stood. He grabbed some clothes from his bag and handed them to her. “If you’d like to shower and change, that will rinse away the rest of the grime. We can figure out how to get you supplies of your own, after.”

  She stared at the offering. “I’m not... No. Tell me what’s going on—who just shot at us and why you’re here—then take me home.”

  “That’s fair.” He s
ank onto the mattress, putting several feet between them. “You already know who shot at you. Or at least, who ordered it.”

  “No.” It didn’t matter that she spent years pursuing Jabberwock. That she was certain he was responsible for Alex’s death. And Wayne’s. Something about having bullets fly past her head put the entire thing in a context that was too vivid and real.

  “I don’t have proof it was Jabberwock, but odds are good. That’s what’s going on. Whoever came for your professor wants you next. I’m here because Wayne asked me to extract you from the situation if anything happened to him. He always felt bad about putting you in the middle of his manhunt.”

  “That’s too simple.” She didn’t mean to say that out loud.

  He arched a single brow. “Really.” His tone was flat, but still kind. “You’d rather I spun a wild story around it? I’m CIA Black Ops, and this is a safe house. You’re here because you unwittingly downloaded the plans to the secret weapon Canada plans to use, to destroy the world, now that we think they’re a benevolent country.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “I’d kind of prefer that. Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then I’d seem more reasonable when I wouldn’t believe you. You don’t even have a real name.”

  “Trust goes both ways. I promised to look out for you, not tell you all my secrets.”

  That made sense. Like everything else he was saying. “But why Hare?”

  “It’s the game we’re playing.” The casual way he spoke called to her doubt. “There are a lot of people who want to know who Jabberwock is. I’m talking on an international level. He has ways of finding us, the way he did Wayne. The names keep our real identity out of things, and they’re a way of making light of an otherwise dangerous situation. For instance, Wayne called himself Walrus, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he called you...?”

  Alice. The answer died in her throat. Because she didn’t want to be the arrogant one who assumed she was the center of the story? “Reagan.”

  He frowned, but it vanished again so quickly, she might have imagined it. “He never did want you sucked in too far.”