I grabbed one of the drinks and downed it in one go, said my final goodbyes to Jenny and then we left.
The drive home was a silent one. I wanted to take back every syllable of the last words I'd said to him, but what would I say? There was this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that our time together was coming to an end and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
When we got home, I went straight to my study, wanting the reassurance of seeing my dead man's switch. I waited impatiently for my laptop to start up. Once it had, I accessed my cloud and clicked on a folder I had labelled NYU. This folder was supposed to contain seven years worth of Luciano books. My blood ran cold when I found it empty.
"Son of a bitch," I said, pulling myself out of the chair. "I'm going out," I said, rushing past Scott in the living room back into the kitchen.
"Where?" he asked with a sigh, following me to the front door. "We should talk about what you said."
If my whole world wasn't crumbling right before my very eyes, I'd want to move heaven and earth to remove the pained look in his eyes. As it was though, I was freaking out. Seven years worth of going back to Don Angelo so that one day, when I was brave enough, I could leave him behind for good. Seven years of saying goodbye to Scott over and over, praying I'd make it back to him. All of that couldn't just be gone.
"Not now. I have somewhere to be," I said, trying to hide my distress.
"I'll drive," he said, fishing his keys out of his pocket.
There was no time to argue with him. I got into the car next to him and let him drive. Not a single doubt remained in my mind. I didn't even try to keep looking on my laptop, because I knew I wouldn't find it. I was hacked. At a coffee shop. On campus. Doesn't matter where. At some point, I had my defenses down long enough for Don Angelo to get someone to hack my cloud.
"Fuck," I screamed, slamming the glove compartment in front of me with my fist.
"What's wrong?" he asked me, putting aside our situation to check in with me, that same I'll fix the world for you tone in his voice.
How do you still want me when I keep pushing you away?
"The dead man's switch. It's gone," I said, letting the words settle over me.
"What about your backups? You have back ups, right?" he asked me, going into problem solving mode.
"We're about to find out," I said as he parked the car.
As we walked through the train station, my mind put the pieces together. How long had Don Angelo been having me followed? Since the wake? Longer? How the fuck did I only pick up on it three months after the wake? Of course Don Angelo didn't send me to New York without supervision.
At the end of the day, the only thing that really mattered though was were they following me when I hid my back ups?
"Shit," I said, slamming the empty locker closed. "He got to this one."
I blew into my hands and looked up, already knowing how this was going to end. No one tied up loose ends like Don Angelo.
"It's okay," said Scott, coming to stand before me and rubbing my arms up and down. "Deep breaths. How many more are there and where's the next one?"
"Two. The library," I said, taking a deep breath.
Maybe I'd get lucky. Maybe he missed one.
"Let's go," said Scott, taking my hand and rushing me back to the car.
When we got to the library at NYU, I went straight to NYU's least checked out book, pulled it out and checked the inside of the cover. I had taped one of my back ups against it.
I threw the book to the floor when I came up empty again.
"Dammit, I'm so fucking stupid," I cursed, my head spinning. "Of course he wasn't doing nothing all this time. How fucking dumb was I to think he'd just give up? Don Angelo doesn't give up."
I slid down against the bookshelf, letting my head fall back against it.
"There's one more, right? Where?" Scott asked, staring straight ahead as he sat down next to me.
What was going through his head? Was it rage? Was he scared? How long ago did Don Angelo find the backups? Hack my cloud? For how long has Scott been unsafe next to me?
Always. He's always been unsafe.
"Doesn't matter. It's not there anymore. He played the game better than me. Don Angelo wins. He always fucking wins," I said, rising to my feet.
"Where's the last one?" he insisted, looking up at me with calm eyes.
It was so fucking annoying that it always worked on me when he pretended not to freak out like the rest of us.
"Our meeting spot," I said, holding out my hand to him and helping him up.
When we were both still studying, we'd frequently meet at a bench halfway between his dorm and mine. Sometimes it was just to say hi. Other times it was to make plans for later. We must have spent hours on that bench.
Scott searched every inch of the bench once we got there, but I had a photographic memory. I knew exactly where I had taped it down. It wasn't here anymore.
"It's gone Scott," I said, willing him to sit down next to me. "It's all gone."
He gave me the most serious look he could muster up and asked, "How come we've never done it here?"
I giggled despite myself and the situation unfolding before me. For just a second, I was as calm as he looked. He chuckled too.
"This is a bit too far, even for us," I said, looking up at the sky.
"I looked forward to sitting on this bench every day, rain or shine, because I knew you'd be here. And as long as you were here, everything was okay. I even came when you were in Chicago. Your texts would be few and far in between and I always wondered if you were gone for good this time. I'd come here and talk myself into believing that you'd be back. I came every day. Like clock work. No matter what. I'm not going to need this bench again, am I?" he said to me, daring to sneak a look at me.
I didn't have an answer for him. At least not one I thought either of us was ready for.
"New plan. Three days isn't enough to reassemble all of it, but maybe if you pick the right thing, that won't matter," he said, and the hope in his voice was infectious. "You know him better than anyone. What will piss him off the most to lose? Give that to the FBI. Show him that he missed one of your back ups. Bluff your father. Once the wedding is over, you can recreate the dead man's switch and he'll never know the difference."
This was not a good plan. If I failed to bluff Don Angelo, which was likely, I would have nothing. Scott, Jenny and I would all be sitting ducks. I could see him killing them just for kicks while I watched.
But if I added onto the plan a bit, there was still a way to convince Don Angelo to do my bidding, assuming I could pull it off.
Maybe, just maybe, I was wrong about Don Angelo loving me more than anything. How far would he go to keep his empire? I guess we were about to find out.
"Make the call," I said with a shaky smile.
While Scott called his father, I opened up my group chat with Tessa and Toni.
Stacy: Need help. Dangerous.
Who is in?
Tessa: Did someone say dangerous? That's my middle name.
Toni: Where's the party?