Chapter Seven
No reboots.
“s**t, s**t, shit.”
The situation was in freefall. I was trapped in the VIP lounge, with an army of security goons on the other side of the door probably itching to kick my ass at any minute, a killer on the loose somewhere and my best lead on the whole case leaking brain onto the carpet.
Gremlin was sprawled out on a plush leather couch with a neat bullet hole through his forehead. The computer whiz stared blankly up at the ceiling as if searching for divine intervention. All the poor bastard got was me, and all I could do was grimace as blood steadily trickled from the wound and dripped down his face.
He’d logged off for the final time.
A quick scan of the room showed only one other door, ten feet away—a gray fire exit, behind the white leather couches and
