I'll try to get another update in soon, but I can't promise anything. I have a lot of college stuff going on this week. Enjoy!

"Here," Ryder says as he shoves a small box across the table to me.

I open it and take out the black-framed glasses, sliding them on over my eyes. Finally, I can see clearly the crappy hotel choice Ryder has made.

The carpet is a horrible mix of yellow, brown, and dark green and I have no desire to know what color it was when the hotel originally opened.

The furniture all looks to be covered in a layer of dust and grime, the lamps barely light up the room, the curtains are the same color as the carpet, and the beds don't look at all inviting, and we'll leave it at that.

I suppose one could argue that in his defense he was in a hurry and couldn't find a better place to lay low for a few hours before the FBI sent us off who knows where next. One could also argue that it wasn't just his choice to stay here for a little while, Agent North had also agreed to it.

So really, I could blame them both for it.

I must have made a face as I looked around because Ryder's eyes were narrowed when I finally turned my attention back to him.

"You can see again?" He questions me sarcastically.

I make a show of purposefully checking him over from head to toe, my expression blank. "Unfortunately," I reply.

I hear Agent North laugh from his seat at the desk on the other side of the room. Ryder turns to shoot him a glare.

Agent North smiles widely back at him. "I like her," He says as he goes back to staring at his laptop screen. "You've got to keep this one alive."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Ryder replies.

"You don't seem to be trying real hard," I mutter.

Ryder turns his glare to me. "You're not making things easy for me."

"God forbid someone doesn't make things easy for you."

Ryder continues to glare at me. "Let me be clear," He says, frustration coloring his words. "I'm getting pretty damn sick of you evading my questions and giving me only half the picture. There's more going on here than you're telling me and dammit if you don't start giving me answers I'll start finding them. I'll keep digging until I find out everything I need to know about you and something tells me there are parts of your past you'd rather keep secret."

I open my mouth to protest and he holds a hand up to silence me.

"Right now, my assignment is to keep you alive. To protect you, so your past doesn't mean shit to me. The fact that you continuously try to get away from me only confirms that either you've done something you're not proud of to end up in this situation, or else you're just stupid enough to believe you'll be able to survive on your own. Neither option is being ruled out yet."

I sit there in my chair, fuming, as he towers over me. "I'm not stupid," I hiss.

"As I said, neither option is being excluded. Think of this as a personal challenge. Prove me wrong. Prove you're not as utterly stupid as I believe."

I glare at him, wishing he'd just spontaneously combust and die. The world would thank me.

"You don't really believe I'm stupid," I finally say after studying his face for a long moment.

He stares at me. "I believe you're very smart, in terms of book smarts. You're flat out stupid in terms street smarts."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, there he went again with those almost compliments. Stupid in terms of street smarts? I haven't survived all these years by being stupid. I narrow my eyes at him, and for a split second my gaze goes to the door. If I was fast enough, I could be gone and I wouldn't have to deal with him any longer.

He suddenly leans down so he's eye level with me, his hands on the end of the armrests on my chair, boxing me in.

"Try it," He says, his words barely above a whisper and full of challenge. "I'm telling you now, you can't run away, not from me. I'll track you down wherever you go. You can run and hide all you want, but there's nowhere on this earth I won't be able to find you."

I narrow my eyes at him. "That almost sounds like a threat."

"Take it how you want it," He says, his eyes locked on mine.

Suddenly I'm all too aware of him. Aware of how close he is. Aware of all the hard lines of his face. His eyes spark with something I can't identify and he narrows them slightly, but otherwise, he doesn't move. I can feel my heart beating hard in my chest, and I don't think I'm breathing.

"Shall I find another room?"

Agent North's words cause Ryder to straighten up and back away from me, shooting a deadly glare Agent North's way. He just smiles and gives Ryder a casual wave.

I give him a glare of my own and he averts his gaze, but the smile doesn't leave his face.

"The only reason you should find another room is when I don't want a witness when I murder her," Ryder says.

My glare turns to him. He ignores it.

"Now," He says as he once again brings his attention back to me. "I'll start with an easy question. What happened with the machines?"

"What do you mean?" I ask and he narrows his eyes at me.

"You know exactly what I mean," He says simply, his suspicious glare not letting up.

I could lie. I could make up a very believable story-not really. I could evade the question. Well, he already knows I'm some kind of a genius, so what would be the harm in telling him I'm good with electronics? I mean, that's the truth, and since he isn't aware of my real name, it would be a leap for him to make a connection between me and a supposedly "ruthless" hacker.

"Planning on joining us back in the real world any time soon?"

I glare at him and ignore his last question, focusing on the first one. "I happen to be pretty good with electronics."

His eyes narrow further. "How good?"

"Pretty good." Basically the best, but that isn't something he needs to know.

"You mean like a hacker?"

I widen my eyes ever so slightly like I'm surprised. "That's illegal."

He crosses his arms and stares down at me. "You turned on those machines one way or another and something tells me you didn't just conveniently have the code for the computer."

"But I did have the code." After I hacked into the computer.

"Oh really?"

"The owner of the factory and I are friends." Total bullshit and he knows it.

"What's the address to the factory?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I don't," He replies with a shrug. "But if you're such good friends you'd know the address of the factory."

"I don't see why I have to answer this, seeing as how we were all just there."

"You don't know the address," He states. "Which means you hacked into that computer and got the machines running." He lets out a groan and runs his hands through his hair before turning his gaze back to me. "You're becoming a real pain in my ass."

"I saved your life," I retort.

"And I saved yours."

"You almost got me killed."

"And what do you think could have happened to me when that hummer crashed into my car?"

"Oh please, you were fine. I was the one who got kidnapped."

"I prefer to think of it as misplaced."

"What?"

"You were misplaced," He says, sliding his sunglasses on over his eyes. "Temporarily."

I'm thinking something of his is about to be misplaced. Like a bone.

"Next question," He starts. "Who was the guy you claim was going to torture you?"

"Claim?!"

"If you're going to yell at me, this isn't going to go very well. And another thing, you really shouldn't be answering my questions with more questions."

I cross my arms over my chest and sit there glaring at him, he just looks bored and a little amused.

"His name is Volkov," I reply. "But I don't know if that's a first or last name. I'm pretty sure it's a last name."

"Volkov?" Agent North questions.

I nod. "He's originally from Russia."

"What else can you tell us about him?" Ryder asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing, except that he enjoys torture and he's very good at it."

And that's the honest truth. I never had reason to go digging to find information on him and by the time I had a reason, I couldn't find anything. Of course, I had also stopped searching when I thought he was dead. Though he might as well be, I never was able to find anything on him. It's as if he doesn't exist. The closest thing to a ghost I've ever seen.

"How do you know him?" Ryder questions.

I pause, debating how to answer. I decide to stick with the truth but evade my part in all of it. "He caught me once."

Ryder's eyebrows go up in question but he doesn't say anything. Agent North is the one to break the silence.

"What happened?" He asks.

"Nothing," I reply honestly. "He got interrupted before he could do anything. I was rescued and I thought he'd been killed. I never realized he was still alive until today."

"How dangerous is this guy?" Ryder asks.

"Dangerous," I reply. "He's psychotic. He enjoys inflicting pain and breaking people. He's also got practically unlimited resources and he can come off very friendly and full of charisma."

"You said practically unlimited resources," Ryder says thoughtfully. "What do you mean by that?"

I shrug innocently. "I hear rumors."

"Rumors of what, exactly?"

"Word is the gang isn't doing so well financially. Something to do with them losing one of their biggest accounts. Since money is used in bribes and getting them whatever they want, I would think this would cause a set back for Volkov, but I can't be sure."

"How does the most ruthless gang in the world lose one of their accounts?"

Because they pissed off a truly brilliant-not to mention vengeful-hacker by threatening her family. So, a magic trick was performed. All the money in the account went POOF.

I shrug. "I have no idea."

"That really doesn't make sense," Agent North speaks up. I can practically see the smoke as he's thinking. "Especially since they have that hacker, Nicolette Moore."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I heard she was no longer a part of that gang," I tell him. What? It's true. "Supposedly she's turned over a new leaf."

"Yeah, and pigs fly," Ryder says flatly. "Moore is a very prominent part of that gang and is just as ruthless as the rest of them. She just doesn't care to actually get her hands dirty, so she stays behind her computer screen."

I have to work to keep from glaring at him. I clench my hands into fists in my lap.

"Something wrong carrot top?"

I don't bother trying to hide my glare now. "Don't call me that," I hiss. "And I'm just restless. I want to get out of this hotel room."

"Well you didn't seem to like rusty." He shrugs. "And you're not leaving his hotel room until I get word from the FBI where to go from here. I'm not going to chance you getting shot on my watch."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Unless you're the one shooting me."

He smiles widely, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. "Now you're getting it."

"How does anyone put up with you?" I question.

"I could ask you the same question. I don't think I've had a moment of quiet since I met you. You're either spouting abuse or counting. Who the hell counts to pass time?"

"Most of the time I'm counting in my head, you can't even hear me."

"News flash gingersnap, you count out loud. It's like listening to a stopwatch, except stopwatches don't actually count out loud, thank god. I'm surprised you don't count in your sleep."

My eyebrows shoot up. "And how do you know I don't count in my sleep?"

"Figure of speech," He says. "And I have no desire to know if you do or don't and if for some reason I have the unfortunate luck of finding out that you do, I'll smother you with a pillow while you sleep."

I glare harshly at him. "I hate you," I tell him.

He waves me off. "I'm not here for you to like me, and it's not like you're a picnic to hang out with either gingersnap."

"Don't call me that."

"Whatever you say matchstick."

Mark my words, I'll be going to jail. I always knew I would be eventually but until today I thought it would be for everything I'd done for the gangs. Nope.

I'll be going to jail for murdering an FBI agent.

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