Immortal Games

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Madeline’s internal clock woke her in the morning—it seemed she had adjusted to the time difference. She didn’t have many hours of sleep, but they were good and solid hours, enough to get her going and be prepared. Tonight was her chance to end this and put her life back to normal.

Was that all she wanted with the dinner? Had she thought about Ciaran at all?

She got off the bed, giving herself a mental slap whenever her brain wandered in Ciaran’s direction. She needed to stay focused and plan for the night.

She should have chosen the business rather than the family when Ciaran gave her the options. But the man headed the family and ran the business. He could give her the exact information she needed. If she had gone with the business option, then she might have ended up with one of the minions whose job was to withhold information from her.

Madeline made herself a cup of coffee and stopped that stream of thought. There was no point rationalizing a past action that she couldn’t reverse anyway.

Her response to Ciaran in the park hadn’t been optimal. But she was a woman, and his physical attraction was undeniable. Hell, he was like a magnet! Mental slap.

Madeline tucked at her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and putting herself into active working mode. Her phone rang. Paul’s voice squeaked through from the other end of the line when Madeline picked up.

“Here you are, still on the planet. Thank God. You can’t just go poof and let me handle everything, Maddie!”

Paul was co-editor with Madeline at The Trumpet. His task was to add a feminine touch to the magazine. Balance the scales, he always said, as Madeline had made the magazine quite ‘boyish.’ Paul was a decent writer and a good guy in the industry, as far as Madeline concerned.

“A girl is entitled to a vacation, Paul!”

“I’m so glad that you finally realize you’re a girl! Yes, you can take a vacation. But you have to give me some notice in advance of more than, say, half an hour! Also, I can take care for your half-finished stories, but not your half-eaten slop, half-finished carrot rubber, and half-decent boyfriend.”

“First, the slop is homemade lasagna, and you’re lucky to have half of it. Second, the carrot cake is from Jo’s brother’s one-of-a-kind bakery, and he specifically baked it for me. So you’re welcome to have it, and I’ll thank them on your behalf. Third, Stephen is not a half-decent man. He’s better than a lot of guys I know.”

“Oh, so Stephen is your boyfriend now, is he?”

“Who were you talking about?”

“Not Stephen, apparently! A bold guy. Shuffling through your desk like a thief. Took off when I called out. Be careful, Maddie. I think you might have a stalker . . . and that’s a best-case scenario.”

Madeline felt a pinch of worry. A dozen what-if scenarios flew through her mind. “Are you okay?” she asked Paul. “I’m sorry if this worries you.”

“No, I’m all right,” Paul said.

“You want me to call Stephen? He’s a cop. He could do something about this.”

“No, no,” Madeline assured him. “I can handle this. Give me a few days. I’ll sort it out, I promise. Let me know if anything else happens. Hey . . . how about you work from home for a few days?”

Paul chuckled. “Really, Maddie?”

“Yeah, really,” Madeline said. “Just do that for me, will you? I’ll talk to you later. I’ll explain more. Everything. Okay?”

Paul reluctantly agreed and hung up the phone.

Madeline called Zen. He switched on the video phone when he picked up the call. His sleazy smile flashed on the screen.

“Miss me?”

“You don’t have to sniff around my workplace and freak out other people. I said I’d get the information for you, and I will.” Madeline fumed.

The smile disappeared from Zen’s face. “I didn’t snoop around no place. Who else knows about this?”

A missed step, damn! Slow down, she warned herself.

“No, I’m just annoyed, that’s all. I have a few unkind readers sending nasty notes to my paper, that’s all.”

“Your job sucks. Poking your nose into other people’s business—you’ll end up with something as big as a bomb or as little a bullet. They’re both lethal, though! What have you got for me?”

“Ah . . . not much yet. Is White Knight a game or a character?

“It’s an avatar. Jesus Christ! Don’t you know anything about games?”

“No, not really. I don’t even know exactly how to get the information. Even if I should get inside the LeBlanc premises, you want me just to go around asking who plays White Knight?”

Madeline could picture Zen wanting to knock his head against the wall to quell his frustration. Maybe it was her head that he wanted to whack. She chuckled on the inside and kept a straight face. Playing dumb was working for her at this point, so she kept at it.

Zen calmly explained, “No, don’t ask directly, and don’t alarm any one. All you have to do is to tell them that one computer within their premises was used to play an interactive game. Make it up. Say the game was illegal or whatever. Don’t say anything about White Knight at this stage. I need a list of the real names of those who played games from that building. If you can narrow it down to the one guy who plays as White Knight, that’s ideal. But I understand it might be difficult. Got it?”

Madeline nodded.

“When can I expect some results?”

“Come on, you only gave me Hyde Park. That’s a residential address, not the business headquarters. How am I supposed to . . .”

“What? I didn’t give you the address. I didn’t know the address. Who tipped you? Who else knows about this?” Zen’s face started to burn with anger.

Fuck! This is a total f**k-up. Who wrote the note? She searched frantically in her mind for an answer but found nothing.

“What happened? You better f*****g tell me!” Zen yelled into the phone.

“I . . . I was . . .”

“Tell me!” Zen’s demonic voice threatened to rip open the phone.