Page 27 of Ignite

Copperpot100: Glynda has been out for a while too.

Jazzyhands: I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.

The bouncing dots stayed still for a brief moment, then starting moving.

Copperpot100: There’s been some movement on the dark web about revenge against those who took down that huge network a while back. Scumbags will talk a big game when they’re only voices over the phone or emails over the internet. That shakedown took out a major network and then some. They’re still recovering from it on the legit side as well as the call centers. We’re talking a shit ton of lost revenue. A few hundred bucks, no one blinks an eye. A few thousand will raise an eyebrow. A few hundred thousand, someone’s pissed. We’re talking millions right now.

Jazz read the message twice. It was true she always felt safe sitting anonymously behind the screen, moving a cursor and clicking the mouse. No names. No locations. No cybertrails. Not one shred of an ID of any kind. All the shielders knew about one another were their screennames. Jazz took care to erase and scrub her activities, deleting any information from the web that might come back on her. The thought that someone had found a way to identify any of their group was frightening.

Jazzyhands: You think something has happened to them? Like physically? I hope you’re joking with me. We’re so careful all the time to leave no traces.

Copperpot100: You are. I am. I don’t know that the rest of the shielders are always consistent. Glynda has a bunch of handles, like CatLady50 she uses on Tinder. Check with me from time to time if you notice someone messing in your network. I’m getting a bad vibe about this. Best-case is I’m suspicious as shit. Worst-case is I’m right and we need to lie low for a while. Keep off the grid until I contact you. Got it?

Jazz folded her hands together for a moment. Perhaps Glynda and Bomber were both just out at the same time. It could happen. There were other active shielders out there still, right? No reason to get all freaked out.

Still, there was that old saying that just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.

Jazzyhands: Okay. Stay sharp, Copperpot. I’m down for the night.

At least that was her plan until she got a text.

A few minutes later, she was dressed and out the door.

15

Wolf eyedthe man at the far end of the stage. The dude had been here dozens of times and always requested Candie for a lap dance on Thursday nights. The club had four private rooms for that purpose. The doors had small windows that were not allowed to be blocked, nor the door itself locked. Generally, the dancers got to decide if any touching was allowed, but for the most part, the men who paid them for the private dances kept their hands to themselves. Wolf thought it was worrisome to see him here again on a Saturday night, but maybe the dude had extra money or just had a bad week.

Wolf could relate. Part of his bad mood might be the frustrating crap between him and Jazz. After the Easter dinner and surprising kiss, she’d changed her behavior toward him, and he hated it. When they were at the bakery, she spoke only when she had to and went out of her way to avoid him. Her mixed words and phrases he found so cute had all but dried up. Every single time he made an attempt to banter or tease her, she clammed up tight. He asked her what was wrong, and the only answer he got was “Nothing” or “Nothing, I’m fine.”

It was driving him bananas, and frankly, he missed their interaction.

The kiss surprised him. When he talked her into that pretend thing for her parents, he did it partially out of amusement and partially out of curiosity. The woman intrigued him, and he found himself wanting to know more and more about her. He genuinely enjoyed her company, something he couldn’t say about other women he’d known. The interactions with her family showed him another side of her he hadn’t expected—vulnerability.

It pissed him off to hear her mom and sister putting her down for what he considered her successes, and the kiss was supposed to be a way to mess with them.

Instead, it set off a bomb inside him, and he wanted more.

A lot more.

It frustrated him that Jazz was stonewalling him, and every minute he was around her now, he spent an enormous amount of brainpower trying to figure out how to scale that fortress.

Candie approached the man at the bar and draped her arms over his shoulders. Wolf’s focus changed, thinking the gesture was a bit too familiar. He flicked two fingers at Camshaft. “Who’s the jagoff with Candie?”

“New boyfriend. He used to pay extra to touch her tits. She said he was a regular who politely came in a handkerchief before she finished a lap dance, always thanked her, and left a generous tip. She developed a soft spot for him and started ‘dating’ him.” Cam put the worddatingin air quotes. “I don’t know how that works when he still has to pay for it.”

Tonight, the guy was drinking heavily and getting sloppy.

Wolf jutted his chin in the man’s direction. “Keep an eye on him, yeah? Something’s off.”

There was a strange vibe in the air tonight. A tension he couldn’t put his finger on, but he felt antsy, as if waiting for disaster to strike. He hoped it was just his own personal anxieties from the week at the bakery and this new thing with Jazz. Hopefully, whatever friction bothered him would pass into an easy Sunday. He was due for a day off.

“Candie is takin’ her guy in the back for a private show. Room two,” Camshaft shouted over the pounding music. Ellie was up on the stage in white star pasties, thigh-high lace stockings, and long fringe across her crotch.

“He paying for a lap dance or something else?”

Cam shook his head. “I don’t know, man. It’s a weird night.”

So, Cam was sensing it too. Fuck. “Keep an eye on them, yeah?”

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