Jocking Jameson (Face-Off Legacy/Campus Kings 4)

“Yeah. An e-mail is a start. I’ll see what I can do.”

He tips his head at me. “Get to class. I’ll see you at the house.”

I flash a quick smile. “Thanks, Tuck.”

He spins around, his arm raised in the air to wave. Instead of heading to class, I practically run toward my house. Five minutes later, I’m sitting in front of my desk. The four computer monitors come to life when I hit the mouse. Each screen has different programs and browsers open. I choose the one on my left and type so fast the keys bang.

First, I try an e-mail trace, but as I expected, the IP address leads me nowhere. It’s the same result I get every time. So, I go back to the third monitor on my desk and open the tab for the dark web chat room where I first found my lead.

Before The Queen came into my life, I considered myself more of a Red Hat hacker, a vigilante of the hacker world. I used tactics such as forcing another hacker to upload malicious code in order to shutdown their system. I did it to Cece at the Gamer Nation Con. But lately, I’ve gone over to the dark side. I have become one of them—a Black Hat, the people I try to stop—and she made me do it.

I hate to even ask Maverick for a favor because I know what owing him means. But I have to know the identity of The Queen. My fingers hover above the keys, nerves shooting through my body. I hope this is worth it. Whatever price I have to pay better lead me to her.

The green cursor blinks against the black screen, and bile rises up from my stomach, choking me. I met Maverick years ago after he beat one of my dad’s games. He was the first person to do it. My dad was in shock that he whipped through all fifty-seven levels in less than twenty-four hours. I was even more impressed. It had taken me two weeks to accomplish the same feat. Since then, we’ve become friends, mostly online. He helps me when I’m in a jam, but he never works for free.

I considered asking him for help months ago, but I wasn’t ready to pay the price. Now, I have no choice. For my own sanity, I need to know the identity of The Queen. I have to look her in the eyes and say Game Over.

I rush into the bedroom Tucker shares with Trent, bursting through the door. Standing in the entryway, I stare into the dark room tugging at the ends of my hair.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Tucker growls.

His girlfriend, Sam, pulls the blankets up to her chin, so I must have interrupted something, but I don’t care. I finally found The Queen and all because of Tucker’s tip.

As I enter the room, my eyes adjust to the darkness. “I did it,” I tell him.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something here.” Tucker gives me an attitude. “What’s your deal?”

“I found her,” I announce.

Sam and Tucker sit up at the same time, eyes focused on me. I sit at the edge of Tucker’s bed, still in disbelief after all these months of chasing after her.

“I didn’t get a name, but I got an address. It’s owned by a holding company.”

“I don’t get it,” Tucker says. “A company owns the blog?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure yet. I have to check it out.”

“You need to get some sleep first,” Tucker snaps. “Dude, you look like shit. And maybe get a shower, too.” He waves his hand at the space between us. “You don’t smell so hot either.”

I laugh at his snarky comments. “I’ve been working on this all day and night. I didn’t exactly have time for a shower.” Leaning forward, I grip a chunk of my hair between my fingers, resting my elbows on my thighs. “I’ve finally found her.”

“What’s your deal with this girl?”

“I know her code,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful. She’s a real architect. It feels familiar but at the same time brand new.”

“That stuff’s over my head.”

“It’s like being an artist and appreciating the painter for each swipe of their brush. She’s a genius.”

I’ve never been so impressed with anyone.

The Queen is the real deal.

A brilliant hacker.

A skilled coder.

And I’m dying to meet her in person.

“Sounds like you’re in love with her,” Tucker says.

I chuckle at his stupidity. “For all I know, she’s a man hiding behind a screen name.”

“She’s a woman.” Sam clears her throat. “Or, so I heard.”

“I hope so,” I mutter, unsure why I care so much The Queen’s a woman. Not like it matters.

“Okay, now get out,” Tucker jokes, though I’m sure he means it.

I nod. “I have to go find my girl.”

Why am I calling her that? Because she knows me. I know her. I can feel it in her words, in her code, in every single step she takes to bring us closer.