VOLUME FIVE: HACK Hack: Gaining unauthorized access to data in a system...."Did you get him, Amanda?" Dean leans into my personal space to get a better view of my phone.Both of us watch the red and yellow ball on my screen bounce twice and break apart. I sigh in defeat."That was my last try." The high-level dragon I've been trying to catch flies off my screen. "Dammit. That was my fourth time."I can't keep chasing this damn cartoon animal around the city. San Francisco is cold in December, and I sold my car after moving into Marissa and Ryland's mother-in-law apartment. The cab fees are killing me. I promised Grant I wouldn't ever take an Uber. The man has something against the ride sharing app, but unlike my friends I don't use a private car service to drive me places. And there's no way I'm admitting to Aspen how much time I've spent playing her husband's new game."There's another raid happening at the wharf in twenty. Want to hit it up?" Dean asks as the group w

"Don't you use your spot to park?" Hudson asks as I direct him to park in the second space available at my apartment building. I'm still renting the small mother-in-law suit from Ryland and Marissa. The rent is too darn good to give up the opportunity to live in the middle of the city. Even if it does mean I share a hallway with Ryland and am forced to follow his ridiculous rules. His latest? Banning me from listening to music after three. Who doesn't enjoy Justin Bieber?I shake my head and then realize he's not looking in my direction. Apparently, the big muscular hottie isn't as interested in staring at me as I am staring at him. The compact rental car Hudson ushered me into after the party ended is filled with his body. The top of his head skims the ceiling and his arm hangs way over the middle console."I sold my car when I moved into the city." The Honda was old and needed to be done even though Ryland said I could use the extra parking spot — a big concession, which I'm pret

A line of sunshine drapes across my face from the open window, and I stretch before pulling back the covers. Outside the morning is foggy although sunlight still seeps past the clouds. It looks like it does every other day in San Francisco. There's no white stuff littering the ground as you'd expect when you wake up on Christmas morning. It's completely different from growing up in the Midwest.I'm not as bad as Aspen, who walks around in enough snow gear she looks like she's going on an Arctic expedition every time it gets below forty degrees, but I'll admit the longer I'm in San Francisco the less I miss the white stuff. Everything is a tad bit happier when you're not covered in frozen water.I may be in my mid-twenties, but this is the first Christmas I didn't spend with family. It's sad but exciting. I've discovered what it's like to be a grown-up. The tiny apartment is quiet when I open the bedroom door and walk my way to the kitchen."Good morning," a male voice calls from

I pretend to think for a second. Seagulls fly over the ocean, squawking as they dip into the water at the early morning hour. The city stretches on for miles in front of us. When you're standing on a street in San Francisco, you can't imagine how large or beautiful the area is. Get a few miles out in Sausalito and the rolling hills that make us famous for our steep roads are amazing. It's my favorite view, even better than seeing it from stories above in one of the high-rises.When I decide I've faked it long enough, I smack my lips and answer. "I'm not sure, but he didn't speak Russian and one time I read this book by Jenn Frederick with a hitman and he didn't remind me of that character.""He doesn't remind you of a character in a book you read?""No.""The Russian mob doesn't walk around speaking Russian. They've been in the US for centuries. They are as American as you and me. It doesn't make them any less dangerous."A few of his words sink in, but when it comes right do

Hudson stops walking in the front of the big picture window of Cosmo's Comics and Café. He looks to the window, looks up the street, looks at me, and then sighs. His sighs are never a good sign."Let me get this straight. Every Sunday a group of millionaires get together in this comic shop," he says pointing at the window. "And you sit in front of this big ass window right out front?""Yup." I've learned it's no use fighting him when he uses his really, Amanda tone. And technically what he said is correct. The couches our group occupies set further back in the building so we aren't right next to the window, but I've learned Hudson is not one you want to argue with when it comes to security. Last night he spent over an hour explaining why you should never hire a phone or cable company to provide your alarm system. I'm still confused, quite honestly. I mean, they call the police for you and isn't that what a security company does? What's the big deal? But after spending an awesome da