The Hacker (The Bro Series Book 2)

by Xavier Neal

  CoconutLover6971 is a fan of young Asian girls, hence the slang term in his name. The numbers are his birth year, like an obvious moron, and his wife’s birth year, like an inconsiderate moron. His real name is Trevor Leary, a white male nurse at a local hospital, two cities over. Wife’s a high school cheer coach. He’s big into ‘volunteering’ to help any chance he gets according to the pictures they post, and he’s a huge fan of the unknowing up the skirt crotch shot. He’s got over 500 of them in a locked file on his lap top at home and another sixty on his phone. In comparison to the others in here, he’s closer to Cub Scout than career criminal, making him the easiest one I could manipulate.

  There are a few lines of agreement thrown on the screen, and I add something in so that I naturally blend.

  But I don’t.

  This part of my job gives me nightmares.

  Makes me loathe letting my children out in public.

  Oreo_Monster_1212: Does any1 kno if the oven light will be on?

  Devon Hill. Single. Black. Child of divorce and sexual abuse. Currently working as an accountant for some advertising firm. Recently divorced himself. The paperwork says “irreconcilable differences” but his ex-wife’s less than vague social media rants every time someone says ‘real men don’t cheat’, give away the truth. Information she isn’t shouting? First woman he was caught with was just on the other side of legal.

  I scan the incoming responses, my mind translating and documenting everything I can.

  Of course they speak in code. Luckily, it’s not something as difficult as learning an actual other language like Spanish.

  The thought of the language threatens to take my mind to the sexy woman who should be heading to the kitchen any minute now to start the morning.

  Fuck, I hope they end this shit early, so I can cleanse my soul of this and kiss my children with a clean conscious.

  All of a sudden, I piece together something worth celebrating about. What I’ve managed to gather from my time chatting with Trevor is the man known as The Baker snatches and sells girls in groups of twelve, within a gap of seventy-two hours. Where the women come from varies. Some are under age prostitutes, some are runaways, and some are average teenage girls who never see it coming. He sells. He disappears for an unknown amount of time then resurfaces to repeat the process. With this information, which he let slip out last night I can start to search missing persons cases and shit in hopes of digging something up. I would put it in the hands of Brewster’s team if I wasn’t the smartest person on it. The new information, the mention of the oven light and the thrill over it, indicates he’s going to be live streaming the auction, meaning as long as I can get in, I can probably trace. If I can I trace it….I might actually get my fucking freedom.

  I might actually be able to put to rest this part of my past and successfully ignore the way it’s linked to what I hope is my future.

  The excitement over the thought has me ready to bail, but I do the inconspicuous and wait for someone else to leave first.

  Once JuJu Bear_94_49 logs off, I quickly follow.

  Pecan_Rican_623: Closing down shop.

  My exit code is acknowledged and I rapidly close out of everything making sure to save the information I was documenting onto two drives, one for the FBI and one for my digital graveyard. Afterwards, I give my computer a clean sweep to insure no one infiltrated. Doesn’t matter that it’s never happened before. The key is to keep it from happening. As soon as everything is shut down, I slide one flash drive into each pocket, with the intention to bury one once the house is completely empty, and make my way towards the kitchen where Meena is already making breakfast.

  We’re all a bit spoiled at this point. While she doesn’t make extravagant meals every morning, she always has something prepared or planned for the kids, and there’s always fresh coffee for me. Even on the mornings, it’s obvious it was a shit night; she still makes it so I have a little extra energy to spend with my little monsters before they run off to school. And despite the fact I have a house keeper who comes once a week to deep clean and de-stickify the entire house, she helps keep things tidy. Laundry done. Put away. Toys shelved in ways the children can help. Artwork or proud projects displayed in numerous places to remind us all of their achievements. This house has never felt this much like a home before.

  It’s never really had the chance to.

  “Buenos días,” Meena coos, giving me a glance over her shoulder from where she’s standing next to the stove.

  I wrap my arms around her waist and plant a warm kiss on her neck. “Buenos días.”

  She removes the last two pieces of bacon from the pan before turning around to face me. “How was work?”

  My eyes fall into hers, thankful to find reprieve from the depravity. “Disgusting, but beneficial.”

  Her hands land on my sides. “Beneficial enough to get Brewster off your carajo?”

  Whether she says the word in English or Spanish my cock always rises to the occasion, even if there really is no actual occasion. He doesn’t seem to believe the word can come off her tongue and not be in reference to what she’s about to do to him.

  “If everything keeps going smoothly? Yeah. But in the meantime…” My hips roll forward to accentuate my point. “What do you say you get on it?”

  Meena snickers yet wraps her hand firmly around my shaft. Immediately, I groan and drop my fingers from the small of her back to her ass. “As much as I want to….” She rises to the tips of her toes and nips at my bottom lip, “And believe me, mi corazón, I want to…” My tongue manages to tempt hers into exchanging a small stroke before she continues. “We don’t really have time. The niños will be up in a few minutes.”

  A combination of a frustrated pout and grumble break free from my lips.

  I already knew that, but what can I say?

  I had to try.

  All of a sudden, Meena slides her hand inside my basketball shorts. The blazing heat from her palm presses against my dick and I damn near come from the contact. “Maybe…if we make it quick…”

  Without waiting for further coaxing, I give the sides of my shorts a yank to give her better access. Her eyes grow a wild gleam and she begins to pump her hand in a profuse nature. I watch with an intense gaze as she becomes more turned on.

  As she slowly lowers to her knees.

  As she wraps her perfect lips around my cock.

  My hands land on the edge of the stove with a loud thud while my teeth do everything possible to imprison my groan. Meena’s tongue swirls its way down my shaft, making sure to increase the suction with each additional inch that slides into her mouth. The moment the tip of my dick touches her throat, my hand flies to her hair to hold her in place.

  To keep her exactly where I want her to be.

  Where I need her to be.

  Her throat constricts, threatening to banish me, and my balls tighten from the thrill. When Meena relaxes, like she always does, a low rumble ripples through me as my dick slides back and forth freely in the hot haven.

  “Make me come,” I command in a desperate yet dominating tone.

  Her fingers graze the underside of my ball sac at the same time she hums her compliance on my cock.

  Through gritted teeth I growl, “Fuckin’ close….”

  My fingers wind through her hair tighter, fighting the desire to let the warm, wet heat of her mouth trounce me. She hollows her cheeks. Begins to bob ferociously. Sucks like her sanity can’t be found anywhere else. Over and over again the tip of my dick knocks against her throat like I’m ringing the bell to heaven’s front door. With one firm squeeze of my nuts in unison with one last squeeze of her mouth, I stiffen in place, paralyzed by satisfaction. Ravenous moans seep out of Meena as she swallows the scorching splashes. Her fingernails cut into my thighs and a gluttonous groan escapes from the feeling, along with the vision of watching her suck me completely dry.

  Why the fuck did I wait so long for us to get to this point?

  Meena frees
my dick with a cartoonish pop, but doesn’t relinquish the hold on my legs.

  It’s because she’s holding me up.

  Because she has the power to bring me to my knees.

  In all ways possible…

  Once my head has managed to stop spinning, she slides my shorts slowly back in place, and rocks her curvy body against mine. The action instantly stirs my dick from the slumberous state it was considering.

  I lean my face down to hers to warn, “Don’t test me.”

  “¿O que??”

  Hearing her challenging tone hardens me completely back up. “Or they’ll be late to school and it’ll be your fault.”

  Our mouths feverishly press together fusing our anxious tongues. The taste of my cum is coated on her tongue and having it cover mine only makes me hungry for more.

  Of her.

  Of us.

  Of the constant ability to hit 1 whenever the fuck I damn well please.

  “Good morning, Daddy!” Sage’s squeaky voice tears us abruptly apart.

  After wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I turn and greet her, “Morning, Sunshine.”

  “Morning, Miss Meena!”

  “Buenos días!”

  I lift Sage into my arms. “How’d you sleep?”

  “I had Christmas dreams!” She announces during our walk to the table.

  “Oh yeah?” Settling her in her seat, I encourage her to continue, “About what you want Santa to bring you?”

  Sage quickly nods while Meena moves the roses that are in the middle of the table to place the plate of bacon there instead.

  We try to do little things to keep her spoiled too. Fresh flowers constantly on the table. Chilled Moscato in the door of the fridge. Sweet smelling bubble baths in my bathroom as well as hers. The actions may not be something huge like moving her completely into my room or investing in a shared piece of furniture, but it’s something. Something is definitely better than nothing.

  “Before you tell us all about your dream, what do you want in your yogurt? Granola o fruta?” Meena questions sweetly.

  “Ambos, por favor.”

  The two of us smile proudly.

  Having children able to speak more than one language is probably a good thing. Who knows. Maybe they’ll be bilingual and it’ll help them on their college essays or something.

  Did I really just have a thought about my kids in college?

  0.

  “And you?” Meena’s hand gives my shoulder a loving rub. “Just café or do you want some yogurt too?”

  “Ambos, por favor.”

  Her eyes sparkle, which causes my heart to thrum a little harder.

  She silently spins away to retrieve food while I say to Sage, “Now, tell us about this Christmas dream.”

  My daughter’s blue eyes almost pop out of her head. “There were so many presents!”

  “I bet. You’ve been a good girl this year.”

  They both have been so much better since Meena marched into their lives and gave them what the other nannies didn’t.

  Or couldn’t.

  Fishing for more information on what to buy, since it’s not like I can hack into her wish list, I ask, “What did you get? Do you remember?”

  “Dolls!” She answers instantly. “Lots of dolls. And dress up shoes. And dress up dresses. And dress up make up that looks like Aunt Mia’s!”

  Meena places the bowls down in front of both us yet gives me an innocent look. “I didn’t tell her to call her that.”

  I smile warmly. “Mia did?” After she nods, I quietly state, “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

  My girlfriend doesn’t argue.

  “Lynk got a soccer ball that lights up,” Sage continues rambling while Meena sits in the seat across from her. “Daddy, you got a Batman hat!”

  A scoop of vanilla yogurt with blueberries lands in my mouth. “I do like Batman.”

  “What did Miss Meena get?” She asks between sips of her coffee.

  “A big shiny ring!” Sage snatches a piece of bacon but my eyes stay planted on her. “It was so pretty and Daddy put it on your finger and then we had cake!”

  Slowly, I turn my face to see a shocked and baffled expression on Meena’s.

  Wondering if it’s shock from Sage coming up with the idea on her own, or shock from a not so subtle suggestion coming back to bite her, I give Sage my attention once more. “Why…Why did Daddy put the ring on Miss Meena’s finger?”

  “Because Lynk and I want Miss Meena to be our mommy for Christmas and Kirsten says that’s how it happens!” She stuffs her mouth with bites, filling her cheeks to the brink of explosion.

  “Slow down,” Meena scolds in a hushed tone.

  Baffled by her explanation, I ask, “How what happens?”

  “How people get married and have two parents,” Sage says with such a condescending attitude I have to quickly remind myself she’s four and not forty.

  I pin Meena with a suspicious look. “Is this really what four years are talking about or should we be canceling all future playdates with the Hannagans?”

  She snickers and shakes her head. “It’s normal. Especially in this day and age when families come in various forms or when you have two best friends from different dynamics such as two fathers who are married and one who has a father who isn’t married with a nanny in place of where she probably thinks a mommy should be.”

  Truth is, with every passing day, that thought increases in frequency in my mind.

  “Morning,” Lynk cheerfully says as he enters the room.

  His navy colored

  school uniform they’re required to wear for presentations, conferences, and important school functions makes him look more grown up than it has in the past.

  Or maybe this conversation is making me feel like my children are growing up faster than I can process.

  “Buenos días, Lynk!” Meena is first to answer. “You look muy guapo.”

  “Gracias,” my son promptly replies.

  A realization hits me I’m not prepared for. With his navy slacks, his dress shirt, tie, and buzzed haircut, he looks identical to the way I did when I was preparing to take the stand.

  When I had to tell a jury I’d never have a mother again.

  When I had to accept I had no parents.

  I was alone.

  Meena kicks me under the table before she stands up. “Doesn’t he look handsome?”

  Clearing my throat, I force a fake smile onto my face. “You look alright…”

  He frowns and I chuckle, which makes him genuinely smile.

  “You got pictures? I don’t remember a presentation on the calendar.”

  “Yeah,” he answers and grabs a piece of bacon. “Winter photos.”

  After Meena gets his request of just plain yogurt, I try to lighten my mood, “Well don’t mess it up and pick your nose or sneeze or something. Otherwise you get to explain to your grandparents why their Christmas present is messed up.”

  Lynk laughs as Meena places the bowl in front of him. “I’m not gonna pick my nose.”

  “Or blink. Or sneeze. Or fart.”

  The last word causes us both to laugh yet Meena nudges me. “Not good talk for the desayuno table.”

  I give her a childish wink.

  “What do you two think about making your grandparents a collage for Christmas?”

  Meena’s question gets a surprisingly excited response from both of them.

  “Can we use glitter?” Sage squeaks.

  “Can we use my soccer shots? You’ve got like a million on your phone.”

  My eyes cut a glance at her beaming. “Not a million.”

  “You like never miss a moment when you come to the games.”

  When because occasionally Sage has playdates those mornings.

  “Unlike Dad,” Lynk teases, stuffing another piece into his mouth. “He always misses the good pictures.”

  “Maybe you should miss less shots…”

  “Hey! I make a lot of shots!
” The squeak in his voice causes us to all laugh.

  “Basta,” Meena sighs. “But yes, Lynk. We can use your soccer shots and your school picture from today if it’s a good one. Plus, we can use the ones we take at The Winter Festival next weekend at Moon and Stars.”

  An uncomfortable feeling flitters in the pit of my stomach. “I’m not um…I’m not sure I can make that.”