“And I won’t mention it again. Considering I’ve been on my better behavior online, you must have some influence over me. Perhaps it’s in everyone’s best interests if you stay, princess.”
God, that voice, and when he called her princess, a zing shot down her spine and straight between her legs. “You aren’t secretly videotaping us and going to blackmail me, are you?”
“Never. I wouldn’t film you without your express consent and participation in any case, and the Devilhouse has strict policies about recording. It should have been in the forms you signed. I wouldn’t be surprised if this place has some sort of jamming devices set up, quite honestly. The chap who used to own it is quite paranoid, though I’ve heard he has cause.”
“Yeah, okay.” She wasn’t mollified. The receptionist and the guy who’d escorted her to the door said they’d be watching.
His thumbs stroked down her shoulders. “Do you have any other concerns?”
“I just want to make sure we don’t break the forum rules about anonymity. I don’t want you showing up at my apartment someday or doxing me on the forum, and then everyone knowing my name, address, and what I look like.”
“Again, never,” he said in a voice so confident that it bordered on dismissive. “I don’t know your real name or your address beyond this city. I would never dox you, and those are my concerns as well.”
“I’m taking way more risk here than you. Physically, obviously.” She fluttered her hand up and down, indicating his height and his strength and just all of him. “I mean, Jesus Christ on a cracker. You have to be six feet tall.”
He chuckled.
“But the point is that I’m an admin there. The forum is an important part of my life. All you killer whales are just dabbling. Even you, Killer Whale King. If you were to tell people we met in real life, I’d be out on my butt.”
Those other mods were her best friends, her only friends, really. She checked their ongoing chat compulsively on breaks at work and first thing when she got up in the morning. If she did something unethical, something just like this, Anjali would probably drop Colleen, too.
Loneliness felt like an icy wind under her costume.
It wasn’t like she had anybody else.
She said to him, “So I’m taking more of a risk. Tell me something about yourself, so I can take you down with me if you narc.”
The mask angled downward again, and the metal became darker with shadow. “Relationships like this are built on trust.”
“This isn’t a relationship. I’m never going to see you again.”
The silver pentagon bobbed to the side. “Fair point.”
“How do I know you won’t rat me out, though?”
He chuckled again. “You’ll have to trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone, ever.”
“If you can’t trust anyone, how can you live your life? How can you have friends or lovers?”
“They’re all just going to ghost or kick me out, anyway. They don’t have to break my heart, too.”
He’d looked at her again—or the mask did, anyway—and now the downward pentagon tilted. His voice was slow, like he was thinking hard. “Right.”
“Tell me something about you,” Colleen said. “Tell me something, so I can take you down if you narc on me. Mutually assured destruction.”
He shook his head. “No one wins at that game.”
“I don’t want us both to lose, but I have to make sure I’m not the only one who loses.”
He nodded, light glinting off the silver mask in bands, then he rattled off a string of numbers beginning with 480.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“My social security number. With that, you can dox me or post it to a dark web forum, and thousands of people will use it for fraudulent credit card applications.” He walked into the darkness, where there was some rustling, and came back holding a piece of paper. “Here.”
Colleen had a pretty good memory for numbers, a side effect of being a computer science and finance major, and she could tell that the 480 number written on the paper in spiky ballpoint was the same one he’d recited.
