I nodded my head encouragingly and Perry’s chest puffed out in satisfaction. I was proud of the guy. He was able to speak to the room without tripping over his words.
“I think you may be reaching a bit,” Chaz scoffed. He was still smarting from our confrontation weeks ago. He had never liked me. Now, after I had thrown his wife’s infidelity in his face, he downright hated me. And he would do anything to make me look stupid.
“I don’t know, I think this may have some merit,” Derek said, surprising me and shocking the hell out of Chaz. “I think it’s something to look into. Is there anything more?”
Here was my shining moment and I reveled in it. “There is. I think this could be a break in the case we’ve been waiting for. They mention Bradfield Financial multiple times. I did some research, and Bradfield Financial is a successful company hovering around the billion-dollar mark in annual revenue. They’ve also been accused of ethics violations in regards to some possible insider trading. They aren’t currently being investigated, but they’re on the radar.” I cleared my throat, forcing myself to slow down. I was too excited. Ready for my shining moment. “Freedom Overdrive and his partner spend some time discussing plans for a data breach. There are references to a data spill to go down later this week.”
The room began to buzz.
“Have you notified Bradfield Financial about the possible attack?” Derek instantly demanded.
Perry nodded. “I spoke with their CIT this morning. They had noticed some pings on their firewall in the early hours of Saturday morning. They have been occurring with regular frequency for a few days. Obviously the hackers are looking for vulnerabilities. Bradfield’s IT group is sending over the data for us to look at. We’re hoping to reverse-trace the attack and isolate the host.”
Agent Sanders cleared his throat. “Good. That’s good. I guess that’s some progress,” he remarked grudgingly.
Chaz looked like he was chewing on broken glass, which was pretty awesome.
“Perry and I are also trying to decode Freedom Overdrive’s signature. There’s a significance to the sequence of numbers and letters.”
Perry gave me a wide-eyed look that clearly said, You didn’t tell me that’s what we’re working on. I frowned and he went back to looking pseudoserious.
Agent Sanders nodded. “That would make sense. Well, keep on it and let me know if anything more comes up. And good job, agents.” He looked away, as if barely able to stomach giving me a compliment.
But I’d take it.
Finally Agent Sanders was seeing my worth.
It felt good.
—
“That’s unacceptable, Mason,” Dad spat out.
I dropped my voice so that I wouldn’t be overheard by the other agents in the room. “Dad, I’m a grown man with a job and responsibilities. I can’t always drop everything and drive three hours to see you and Mom because you want me to. Is Mom sick?”
“No. Not physically. But you know that’s not the issue—”
“Look, I know you feel alone up there. That it hasn’t been easy since Dillon died and I moved away, but I have things here that need my attention. I need you to be understanding, Dad.”
My father was quiet for a while. It had been a long time since I had stood up to him. For the past year I had willingly taken on the role of emotional punching bag, taking whatever my parents wanted to dish out.
But it wasn’t right. I couldn’t be that person for them anymore. It wasn’t healthy for any of us.
“Your mother will be upset,” Dad said finally, sounding tired and defeated. It was more concerning than the anger.
“I know. Just explain I’ll come up when I can. And Dad, maybe you should think about having her go to a new therapist. I’m not sure the one she’s seeing is really helping her.”
“They wanted to admit her to the hospital for thirty days after this last episode,” Dad admitted.
“Maybe that would have done her some good,” I ventured.
“That is the last thing your mother needs, Mason. Have some compassion!” Dad barked, returning to his usual fury.
I sighed. “Okay, sorry. I just think that she needs something more—”
“What she needs is her son to be more available. She sacrificed so much for you and your brother. And yet when she needs you, you’re nowhere around.”
We were talking in circles. My father was so mired in his grief and rage that he couldn’t see what his words did to his only living son.
“Dad, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you over the weekend.”
I hung up before he could respond.
I dropped the phone on my desk and rubbed my temples. Talking to my parents left me drained.
I flipped open my wallet and found the picture I always kept there, tucked behind my credit cards.
It was the last photograph I had of Dillon. It was before he was admitted to the hospital. Before the chemo that didn’t save his life.
Before he became the shell that only wanted to die.
“They’d never give you this level of bullshit,” I murmured, running my thumb over the glossy print.
Damn, it was times like this that I missed Dillon the most. When I allowed myself to think of how much my world had changed since he had vacated it.
When I really thought about the fact that I’d never get to play basketball with him again. When I couldn’t pick up the phone and bitch about Mom’s craziness and Dad’s stubbornness.
Dillon had been someone to help shoulder the burden of family expectations.
We were friends as well as brothers.
My biggest regret in life was not making it to the hospital to see him before he died.
I had promised him….
—
“You just missed the hot nurse. She came in to give me a sponge bath.” Speaking was hard for Dillon. He usually lost his breath and had to close his eyes from the pain in his head.
It was becoming harder and harder to come and see him. To watch him deteriorate every single day into a shell of the man he had been. He had lost so much weight that his skin was hanging off his bones, the stark shape of his skull prominent. His head was wrapped in thick white bandages from yet another surgery to relieve the increasing pressure on his brain.
His hair was long gone and he seemed to have aged thirty years in the span of months.
But he kept his sense of humor. No matter how bleak his future, he tried to keep us laughing.
“Damn. You should have faked a seizure or something to keep her in here.” I sat down in the chair by his bed, hating the smell of death that seemed to cling to him now.
“I could always call her back in here. Tell her that my brother needs a sponge bath too,” Dillon offered, his forehead creasing in pain. He tried to lift his hand to push the call button but let it fall back to the bed limply.
“Maybe another time.” I patted his arm. “How’s it going today?”
Dillon shrugged. “Eh, the same as yesterday. I have to wear a diaper now, which is pretty hot, let me tell you. And I don’t even have the energy to jerk one off. This is my idea of hell.”
“Where’s Reagan when you need her? Shouldn’t she be taking care of that for you?” I chuckled.
I hated his fiancée. She was selfish and vapid. And she sure as hell didn’t deserve my brother.
But he loved her.
And given that he had only weeks left, I would never tell him that she had made it very clear that I was welcome in her bed anytime I wanted.
“She hates the hospital. It upsets her too much. I told her not to bother coming today.” Dillon closed his eyes, obviously not able to keep them open.
“She should be here anyway,” I argued.
Dillon frowned. “Please, don’t start on Reagan, Mas. She’s doing the best she can.”
“And it’s not fucking good enough,” I growled.
Dillon sighed. “Please, Mason. I don’t want to spend what little energy I have defending her to you.”
“Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Dillon opened his eyes, the blue dull and listless. “Ha. I’d like to see that. It’d be a first.”
I playfully punched his arm. Lightly. Very, very lightly. “Don’t think you can use the whole I-have-cancer thing to get out of an ass beating, Dil. I’ll still take you.”
“Then I’d have to cry on the hot nurse’s shoulder and tell her all about my mean big brother while she sponges me off.”
I laughed and he smiled as much as he was able.
“You know, I’d blow a priest to get out of this fucking bed. Maybe play another round of basketball. Too bad this body isn’t good for anything anymore.” Dillon rarely indulged in self-pity. I was surprised to hear him sounding so negative, though I had expected it at some point.
“You don’t have to blow a priest, dude. That’s just gross,” I joked.
Dillon didn’t smile.
For the first time I saw how depressed he really was. How hopeless he felt.
“I’m dying, Mason. And all I want to do is play basketball one more time. That probably sounds pretty pathetic. Of all the things on my bucket list, that’s what I really want to do. No bungee jumping or race car driving. Just a game of one-on-one with my brother.”
I wrapped my hand around his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Then this weekend, I’m busting you out of here. We’ll go to the park and I’ll kick your ass on the court.”
Dillon’s face lit up, just enough to lift my heart. “Yeah? You promise?”
I nodded, not realizing that I was lying to him. “I promise.”
—
When I started thinking about Dillon, it was hard to stop. It was like falling into a grief spiral.
I put the photograph away. Talking to my parents always brought up the stuff I wished I could forget.
I had to focus on the job that I had ultimately chosen over my dying brother.
It should have made me resentful of my work. Instead it had done quite the opposite. I needed my work to confirm that I was doing something productive. Something important that would make all the bullshit worth it.
And now it was finding Freedom Overdrive.
I opened my computer and pulled up the signature I had been obsessing over for weeks.
I stared at the numbers and letters on the screen.
12080512alwcaw.
It looked so random, but I knew from experience it was anything but. A hacker’s signature was their waving flag. It was their branding stamp. Their big “Hey, look at me.”
I knew that figuring out what those numbers meant was the key to unlocking Freedom Overdrive’s identity.
12080512.
Those numbers could mean anything.
A date, maybe?
Two dates?
0512 wasn’t a year, but 1208 could mean December 8. 0512—May 12?
Birthday? Anniversary? Significant event?
Fuck, the possibilities were endless.
“Mail call,” Perry chirped, dropping a brown envelope on my desk.
I picked it up, a pang of alarm buzzing through me.
I barely noticed that Perry was still standing there as I tore into it.
It was another typed note. Plain white paper. Two sentences.
Do you see the truth? She does a good job hiding it from you.
“Is that another note?” Perry asked.
“Yeah, it is,” I said, dropping it onto my desk as if it were on fire.
Perry picked it up and read the cryptic message and frowned. “I think you should take this to Agent Sanders.”
“And what will Agent Sanders do? It’s virtually impossible to trace where this came from, and like I said last time, it’s not a direct threat of any kind.”
Perry handed it back to me and I folded it up and shoved it into my desk.
“Who do you think it’s referring to? Who’s the ‘she’?”
I shrugged. “The Queen of England?”
Perry snorted. “Why can’t people sending warnings just tell you what they want you to know? Why make it all mysterious?”
“Good point. And exactly why I’m not going to stress about it.”
I’d never admit to my partner that it was bothering me. It wasn’t the first time in my career that I had been targeted by crazy shit. But something about the letters bugged me.
But Perry was right; if they were trying to warn me, why couldn’t they just spell it out?
My phone rang, startling me.
“Agent Kohler.”
“Well hello, Agent.” Hannah’s husky voice filled my ear and I felt my entire body respond.
“I’m glad you called,” I said. Even to my ears I sounded frayed. Tired.
“Is everything all right? Rough day?” She sounded concerned.
“I just got off the phone with my parents. They’re angry with me for not coming to see them this weekend. But I’m trying to remember that it’s okay to have the distance.” I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my forehead, the throbbing headache abating a bit.
“I’m sorry they give you such a hard time.”
“Eh, it’s not your problem. But I don’t want to talk about my parents. What’s going on with you? After this day I’m really looking forward to dinner tonight.” We had made plans to go out to eat. Seeing Hannah at the end of the day had become the highlight for me.
I realized that I missed her when she wasn’t around.
“That’s why I’m calling.” Hannah sounded apologetic and I knew what was coming.
“You’re canceling on me.”
“I have to work late tonight. Mr. Healey wants me to finish up some financials that he needs for the quarterly meeting.”
“Mr. Healey needs to know that you have a life outside of the office,” I said. Hannah didn’t talk much about her job, but from what I could glean, her boss was a dick, her job mundane. She was vague on the details, though I couldn’t fault her for that. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to talk about work.
“You’re telling me. But it’s my job.” She sighed, sounding as tired and stressed as I was.
“How late are you going to be?” I asked, hating that she was stuck at work. Hating that I wouldn’t get to see her.
“I really have no idea.”
There was noise on the other end, the clacking of a keyboard. The clicking of a mouse. I recognized the sounds.
“I’ve got a lot to do, so I’d better get going.” She sounded distracted.
“What if I came over later, after you get home? I could bring takeout,” I suggested quickly before she could hang up.
“You don’t have to do that, Mason.” There was muffling, as if she were propping the phone on her shoulder. I could tell she wasn’t really paying attention to what I was saying.
“I know I don’t have to. But I’d really like to see you, if you’re up to it.” I wouldn’t beg, but it was damn close. Seeing Hannah kept me grounded. Kept me sane. I hadn’t realized how quickly I had grown accustomed to seeing her.
“I really can’t say how long I’ll be,” she said. Was she putting me off?
Why was she being so evasive?
Don’t! I screamed inwardly, silencing the voice that seemed stuck on self-destruct.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” I teased.
She chuckled. “Oh yeah? Do you mean Chinese food and a chick flick?”
“Damn, is that what you thought? I hoped you’d want some more of my lips. And my hands. And any other part of me you want to make use of,” I told her huskily.
I glanced around, making sure I wasn’t overheard. Perry was sitting at his desk, so I could be assured he was eavesdropping. Pervy fuck.
“That sounds pretty good, actually. The hands and lips, I mean. Not just Chinese and a movie,” she said, chuckling.
“I’d hoped it sounded better than pretty good,” I gently chided.
“Okay, it definitely sounds better than pretty good,” she corrected herself. “
I can come over to your place—”
“We’re always at my place. I’m sure you’ll be tired. Why don’t I come to you?”
“I don’t mind driving to your apartment,” she protested. I could hear the continued clicking of her keyboard, her attention waning. Her voice was sounding far away.
“Are you worried I’ll find all those skeletons in your closet?” I joked.
Hannah’s laughter was strained.
“Okay, you can come here. But I’m not cleaning up for you. You’ve been warned.”
“I won’t make any snarky comments about your housekeeping, I promise,” I said.
“Be here about eight o’clock?”
“If you’re going to be any later, just text me.”
“I’ll make sure I’m home. No problem,” she assured me.
“If Mr. Healey gives you any shit, let me know. I’ll come by and you can introduce him to your badass FBI agent boyfriend.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Boyfriend?” she asked, and my mouth went dry.
Too fast?
I could never quite tell with Hannah. When she was hot, she was smoldering. I couldn’t get enough.
But then when she was cold, I was left confused and bewildered.
She said she had been hurt before. She had alluded to relationship baggage. I understood. Who hadn’t had their heart broken?
I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the story. What had happened to make being with her like sitting on a seesaw?
But it was addictive and I wanted to stay on the ride.
“Can I be your boyfriend, Hannah?” I asked softly, feeling a bit like an idiot.
I heard a soft intake of air on the other end. As if Hannah was sucking in a breath.
To let me down easily?
To tell me to go fuck off?
“Sure. You can be my boyfriend, Mason,” Hannah murmured, and I relaxed.
“Yeah?” I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.
“Yeah,” she agreed quietly but surely.
This was a definite.
We were a definite.
“Now that that’s established, your boyfriend will be by at eight o’clock.”
Exploited (Zero Day #1) Page 21