Gunner: The Hacker's Code by Michelle C. Reilly
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Nay stared down the alley, trying to keep her focus on anything but Gunner.
Well, that was embarrassing.
Her heart thundered in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous or affected by the thrill that shot through her when Gunner’s hand touched her right where it counted. Gunner edged toward the back of the building. She stepped where he stepped, her small legs going wide to keep up with his long gait.
He glanced over his shoulder at her and stopped, his brow creasing. “What are you doing?”
She froze and stared up at him. “What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m following your footsteps.”
Gunner regarded her, putting his hands on his hips. Blood crept up her neck when she glimpsed the long fingers, remembering the heat of them down below.
Stop it, you stupid ninny.
She forced her gaze past his shoulder to the bookstore entrance.
“I didn’t mean, like, literally you have to follow in my steps. I meant stay behind me.”
Nay put her own hands on her hips. “Well, then you should’ve said that.”
He shook his head and resumed his trek to the door. Gunner shooed her against the wall with wave of his hand. He leaned over to check the door’s lock, and Nay found herself staring at his jean clad ass. She quickly lowered her lids.
What the hell are you doing?
“What are you doing now?” Gunner whispered.
She whipped her eyes open and shook her head. “Nothing,” she squeaked. “Just nervous.”
He stood up straight and turned the knob. The door swung open.
“Wow, that was, like, super quick.”
His lips lifted on one side. “Yeah, I’m, like, pretty good at this.” He entered and held up a finger to her.
She waited, sure her heart would burst out of her ribcage. She’d never done anything like this. Well, she hadn’t ever physically broken into a place. She’d done it plenty of times online.
Gunner peeked his head out and tilted it to indicate she was clear to enter. She strode into a room crammed high with books and boxes. The smell of ink and old paper, with an overtone of dust, saturated the air.
“Come on,” he whispered. She caught up with his disappearing tall frame at the end of a hallway. He changed course into a small office where VHS tapes stacked haphazardly on the floor and up the wall.
Gunner picked up a few and sorted through them. “You said two nights ago, correct?”
She nodded her head, swallowing convulsively. He aimed a glare at her. “Yes,” she gasped. “Two days ago.”
As the tapes clicked against each other, Nay peered around, wringing her hands. “This place doesn’t have an alarm, does it?”
Gunner shook his head while reading the labels. “No. It was a fake one. It’ll fool the newbs.”
Nay scratched the back of her neck as things started to fall into place. “I take it you’re not a newb?”
He palmed a tape, put it into a VCR, and switched on a small TV on a counter. “You could say that.”
She blinked, not sure what to say. A blurry image lit up the monitor. The split screen showed two different angles. One showed a view behind the cash register, and the other aimed at the entrance with a view of the walkway and some of the parking lot beyond. A timestamp showed it was the morning of the day Kristine was taken.
Gunner reached out a long index finger and pushed a button to fast-forward the tape. The images slipped by in rapid succession, causing people to move jerkily in an almost comedic fashion. Nay couldn’t take her gaze away from the screen. “Stop.” Faster than she could’ve believed, Gunner paused the tape. “Can you rewind it slowly?” His middle finger pushed another button and the images chopped by, going backward. “There she is,” Nay whispered, and Gunner froze the tape. Nay’s breath caught in her throat at the image of her sister entering the store. She glanced down at the time on the monitor. Four-thirty-two.
He started the tape at normal speed. Nay stared at Kristine. The girl, her long, dark hair draping down her back, shifted from shelf-to-shelf, pulling down different books, reading the back blurbs, and even the first few paragraphs of some of the tombs. Often she pulled out her cell and texted someone. Gunner fast-forwarded through a few of the sections when Kristine found a spot on the floor to read.
Nay tilted her head. Her sister had always been a bookworm, where Nadine could always be found in front of a computer screen. Even though Nay had bought her sister a used eReader, her sister preferred print books. After going through close to twenty minutes of footage, her sister glanced out the window. She made her way closer to the cash register desk at the back of the store and skimmed through some manga, every once in a while standing on her tiptoes to regard the parking lot. The girl spoke to the person at the counter for a few minutes and continued to browse. The man at the counter moved out of the camera’s angle, presumably to the backroom.
From the other camera angle, a car pulled up in front of the store. It was light colored, possibly tan or silver. It was hard to tell in the black and white footage. Nay glanced at the other view. Kristine sat against a bookshelf, facing the cash register counter and hidden from anyone inspecting the store from the front door.
The girl flinched and dropped her book. She shot quickly to her feet and sneaked a look around the edge of the shelf. Kristine swiveled back around, her eyes closed and shook her head. She flinched again and peered out the front window.
“I think he’s—or she’s—honking,” Gunner said.
Nay had almost forgotten he was there, she’d been so caught up in the film. Her sister sent a searching look toward the backroom. Then she put the book she had dropped back on the shelf, squared her shoulders, and rotated to the front door. She walked slowly, as if she was in pain. Nay’s gaze switched to the other angle, where the image of the front door and part of the car could be seen through the painted letters on the front window. When the girl reached out for the front door handle, Nay gasped. “No. Don’t go, Kristine. Stay in the store, damn it! Stay in the store.”
Kristine stepped out onto the walkway, the door shutting behind her. She remained close to the building, speaking to the person inside the vehicle. Her hands shot down, sharp and succinct.
Nay shifted closer to the TV, wishing she could reach through and yank her sister back into the store. Kristine continued to argue with the person. Through a hole in one of the window letters, the car door opened and long, slack-covered legs strode over to her sister. Kristine backed up against the window and the camera shook when she hit the glass.
Nay’s hands grasped the sides of the box, her head shaking. Her sister fought against the man, her image hard to see from the camera’s angle. Then her sister slumped to the side. Arms circled her, catching her before she fell to the cement. For a brief moment, the side of the perpetrator’s face and dark hair became visible as he bent to pick up Kristine. He carried her to the car, only his legs discernable. The car’s backdoor opened and he tossed her into the backseat, jumped into the front seat, and the car took off.
A wheeling sound came from Nay’s throat, and she fell to her knees, unable to speak or move. Strong, warm arms wrapped around her. She rocked back and forth, unable to fathom what she’d just watched.
“He took her,” she finally said. “She’s gone.” Nay squeezed her eyes shut and hot tears burned her cheeks. “She’s gone…” Gunner held her closer and he shook his head.
“She isn’t gone. We’re going to find her, all right?”
Nay shook her head. “How? He kidnapped her! She’s gone!”
Gunner pulled away from her and placed his hands on both sides of her head. “Nay, listen. We will find her. I know ways to find her.”
She shook her head, blinded by the tears blocking her vision. “How?” she repeated.
“There’s all kinds of ways.”
Nay closed her eyes. The vision of her sister fighting against the man, her body falling, and the man carrying her away r
Gunner gripped her to his chest and ran his hand up and down her back. When her hiccups finally subsided, she pulled away.
Gunner studied her as he lifted his hand and brushed back her hair. “You ready to do this?”
Nay stared up at him through her swollen eyelids. “Yes.”