The Redemption

by Lauren Rowe

  He tells it to me and I quickly type it into my email header—and then I press send. Oh. My. God. I’m about to hyperventilate. I’m sure my cheeks are cherry red.

  “Okay, I sent it,” I say, trying to sound calm, but I can barely breathe. “Why don’t you both make sure you got it.”

  It feels like time moves at glacial speed as Oksana logs onto her computer and opens her email account.

  “Do I meet your high standards?” I ask, my voice quavering and my knees knocking.

  “Oh yes, very nice,” Oksana says, viewing the photo.

  Oh my God. She opened my email. She opened it!

  “You’ll be a top favorite for the ones who like spicy,” Oksana continues. “The scar is okay. You can blame it on a surgery. Your appendix, maybe, like Marilyn Monroe in the famous photos.”

  I smile politely at the Marilyn reference, though I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about. “What do you think, Max?” I ask. “Do you like what you see?” I try to sound flirty and inviting, but I’m sure I just sound carsick.

  Max taps the screen on his phone—oh my God, he’s opening the email!—and I have to breathe through my mouth to keep myself from fainting.

  He studies the picture. “I see why Mr. Faraday’s such a big fan of yours.” He looks up at me and licks his lips. “I look forward to sampling this tomorrow.”

  “How much are you planning to pay me for the pleasure?”

  He scoffs.

  “A smart prostitute never gives it away. Right, Oksana?”

  Oksana chuckles. “To Maksim, she does—if she knows what’s good for her.”

  “I always get my freebie,” Max says. “But don’t worry—I’ll make sure you enjoy it, too. I’m very considerate in that way. Especially for a woman with your problem.”

  My stomach churns. “I... I don’t know if I can get away.” I motion to the door. “Faraday is pretty possessive—”

  “You’ll figure out a way—if you know what’s good for you.”

  There’s an urgent pounding at the door.

  “Sarah,” Jonas yells. “It’s time to go. Right now.” He shakes on the door, but it’s locked. When did they lock it?

  I’m suddenly racked with panic. I’ve got to get out of this room.

  “Sarah!” he shouts. “Time’s up!”

  “I’m coming,” I call back, trying my damnedest to keep my voice light and bright. I whisper to Oksana and Max, “He’s really intense.”

  The door shakes again as Jonas tries to open it.

  I turn to go, but Max grabs my arm with a vise-like grip.

  “Just think. If Yuri had killed you like I’d told him to, I would have missed out on so much fun.” Without warning, he swoops into my face and kisses me on the lips, thrusting his tongue to the back of my throat. I jerk back, utterly repulsed, and he twists my arm. “I guess things always work out for the best.” He smiles like a shark. “I’ll text you my phone number—and I’ll expect your call tomorrow.”

  Chapter 23

  Sarah

  Just a tip. If you’re ever planning on being in a relationship of any kind, but especially a monogamous, romantic relationship, with one Jonas P. Faraday, do not—I repeat, do not—do what I just did. Holy shitballs, as Kat always says, that did not go over well.

  The minute Jonas and I were out of earshot from the bad guys, even before we’d reached our car, Jonas let me have it. To say he was angry with me is the understatement of the year. To say he ripped into me and created several new orifices in my body doesn’t do it justice. For the first time ever, I got to see what Jonas’ fury looks like when directed at me instead of his ever-patient brother—and I’ve got to say, it ain’t pretty.

  Of course, I cried my eyes out when Jonas started screaming at me, but his meltdown wasn’t the only thing making me cry. The countless conflicting emotions simultaneously slamming into me probably had a lot to do with my tears, too. I felt relief, fury, anxiety, righteous indignation, apology, and shame, all at once—but, mostly, if I’m being honest, pure elation and pride that I’d figured out a way to get Oksana and Max to open Henn’s malware email. And I was pissed as hell at Jonas for being so consumed with anger or anxiety or both that he couldn’t appreciate and applaud my savage badassery.

  After Jonas’ verbal assault had died down and he was finally capable of speaking rationally again, he demanded I tell him every single thing that happened inside that room with Max and Oksana, from the minute he walked out until I joined him again—and I did. Well, almost everything. I didn’t mention Max’s disgusting demand for a “freebie” or the repulsive kiss he planted on me. What would have been the point of telling him about either wretched thing? I knew Jonas would only turn around, march right back over there, and try to kill the bastard with his bare hands—and I was deathly afraid he’d die in the process. I mean, jeez, I know better than anyone what kind of a monster Max truly is—and I wasn’t about to let anything happen to Jonas.

  I did, however, tell Jonas about the naked selfie I emailed to Oksana and Max, and that’s when my hunky-monkey boyfriend went DEFCON-one ballistic on me. Understandably so, I guess, but, wow, the degree of horror and outrage he expressed about that one itty-bitty photo made me wonder if he’d heard the other thing I said, namely, “They opened the email.”

  He didn’t react when I said it the first time, so I said it again. “They opened the email, Jonas—both of them. It worked. We did it.” But he didn’t frickin’ care. Not in that moment, he didn’t, anyway. Nope. He was just angry as hell and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to distract him from his rage.

  I felt empathetic about Jonas’ anger to a point. Who would want their girlfriend to email a naked photo of herself to a murderous pimp? But come on. At the end of the day, what’s the big effing deal? My face wasn’t in the photo. It’s a photo of a random, naked body, just like all the other bodies on this planet. A neck, two boobs, a belly button, a red-G-string, a pair of legs, and a cat-mug. Big effing deal.

  Frankly, if you want to know the truth, I’m proud I did it. I’m Orgasma the All-Powerful, after all, and today I proved it. When Orgasma’s on a mission for truth and justice, when she’s hell-bent on decimating the bad guys and protecting the innocent, Orgasma stops at nothing to accomplish her mission. Hellz yeah! Orgasma. Will. Be. Victorious. Fuckers!

  And, anyway, what the hell was I supposed to do? Go back to the hotel room and say, “Sorry, guys, we did our best—better luck next time?” No effing way. Before stepping foot into that office, I’d promised myself nothing would stop me. And nothing did. So I took a stupid picture of myself—so what? Considering the situation, it could have been worse. And, by the way, did I mention, it worked? Because, holy crappola, both of them opened the frickin’ email. Boom.

  It’s been a solid fifteen minutes since Jonas and I have exchanged a single word. Both our chests are still heaving from our argument and my face still feels flushed. I glance at him. He’s staring straight ahead, his jaw muscles pulsing in and out. I look out the passenger window of the car, fuming. I can’t stop yelling at him inside my head. I’m certainly not going to be the first one to speak.

  Jonas pulls our rental car up to the front of the hotel and we wait silently in line for the valet attendant behind several other cars. After a minute, Jonas pulls out his phone and taps out a text. “I’m telling the team to meet us in our suite in ten minutes,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

  But I don’t reply. Screw him. He can’t yell at me like he did and then expect me to act like everything’s fine. Even before the valet guy opens my car door, I burst out of the car and march into our hotel, not looking back. Jonas is angry with me? Well, the more I think about it, I’m steaming mad at him, too.

  Cold air from the air conditioning blasts me as I stride through the lobby toward the elevator bank, but it does nothing to cool my hot temper. He’s overreacting, plain and simple. A little anger would have been okay. But a volcano erupting and spewing molten l
ava at me? Not okay. What he should have done was congratulate me and tell me I’m so fucking smart—that’s what he should have said. That man needs to take a chill pill and celebrate our victory, no matter how we got it. Yeah, in fact, as far I’m concerned, Jonas can go to hell.

  Chapter 24

  Sarah

  Everyone (besides Jonas) is hanging on my every word. Now this is the kind of reaction I’d hoped to elicit from Mr. Volcano. Jeez. When I get to the part about me taking a naked selfie in the bathroom, Kat shrieks, either with shock or glee, I’m not sure which. And when I regale the group with the part about Oksana and Max opening my email right on the spot, Josh whoops and high-fives me while Henn fist pumps the air and scrambles to his laptop to track the progress of his little malware-baby.

  But Jonas? He sits in the corner, scowling, watching all of us but not saying a word. I feel like flipping Jonas the bird, to be honest, but I refrain because I’m a fancy lady.

  “Bingo,” Henn says after a brief moment of looking at his screen. “You did it. We’re in. I’ve got Oksana’s computer and that guy’s phone. Holy shit, Sarah. Jackpot.”

  I look smugly at Jonas, but he looks away. Really, Jonas? You’re pissed at me? Well, I’m pissed at you.

  “Oh my God,” Henn says, staring intently at his computer screen. “The bastard forwarded your email to another computer and opened your photo there, too.” He chuckles. “Brilliant.” He clicks a button on his keyboard and his entire face suddenly bursts into bright red flames.

  Oh jeez. Why do I get the distinct feeling Henn just saw my boobs? I blush. “So, Henn?”

  His head jerks up from his computer screen like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yes?”

  “So now what?”

  He swallows hard. “Well, um.” His cheeks are still on fire. “I’ll snoop around both computers and this Max guy’s phone and see what I can find. And then we wait for them to hopefully access their mainframe and bank accounts. I imagine we won’t have to wait too long.”

  “Can you delete that photo?” Jonas asks, his voice tight. “Can you find it and erase it everywhere?”

  “Um, sure, no problem,” Henn says quickly. “I can delete it right now, if you want me to. I’ve got total access.”

  “Yeah, but if you delete that photo off their computers now, won’t that tip them off?” Kat asks.

  “Yeah,” Henn says. “If that photo magically disappears, this Max dude is gonna know something’s up for sure—and if he designed their tech like he says, then he’s a badass motherfucker of epic proportions and we don’t want to do anything to tip him off.”

  “Well, then, don’t delete it. I don’t want to give them any reason whatsoever to be suspicious,” I say.

  “I agree,” Henn says.

  Jonas exhales and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “God, Sarah,” Kat laughs. “First the solo-boob shot and now this. You’re quite the exhibitionist, aren’t you?”

  Oh jeez. Thanks, Kat. I steal a quick look at Jonas, just in time to see him clench his jaw. Yes, Jonas, I told my best friend about the left-boob picture I sent you when I was nothing but your anonymous intake agent. So sue me.

  Kat sees the look on Jonas’ face and she winces. “Sorry,” she mouths to me.

  I shrug and shoot her a “he can go fuck himself” look.

  “A ‘boob picture’?” Josh asks, raising his eyebrows. “Oh my goodness, tell us more, Sarah Cruz.”

  “Just a little sexting with this really hot guy I met online,” I say, glancing at Jonas—only to find he’s still pissed as hell. I roll my eyes. “A hot guy who used to have a sense of humor. It’s no big deal—all the kids are doing it these days.”

  “And all the politicians,” Josh says.

  “And athletes,” Henn says.

  “And housewives,” Kat adds.

  “And grandmas,” Josh says.

  “And some priests, too,” Henn says, and everyone (except Jonas) laughs.

  “Sarah, you picked the perfect bait for your email,” Kat says. “No matter how smart or powerful or rich a guy might be, he’s got the same Kryptonite as every other man throughout history. Naked boobs.”

  “Are we really that simple?” Josh asks.

  “Yes,” Kat says. “You really are.”

  “Never underestimate the power of porn,” Henn says.

  “That’s catchy,” Kat says. “The porn industry should adopt that for a billboard campaign.”

  “I don’t think the porn industry needs help with their marketing,” Henn says.

  Jonas hasn’t stopped smoldering during this entire exchange. A vein in his neck—which I can now confidently identify as his external jugular vein—is throbbing.

  “That was really quick thinking on your feet, Sarah,” Josh says, but he’s looking at his brother as he speaks. “You went in there hoping to harpoon a baby-whale, and you wound up landing Moby Dick. Great job.” He raises his eyebrows at Jonas. “Right, bro? Aren’t you proud of her?”

  Jonas scowls at his brother.

  “I was scared; I’m not gonna lie,” I say. “My hands were shaking like crazy the whole time I was in there. But there was no way I was gonna leave that building without implanting that virus, no matter what. There was too much at stake.”

  “You’re such a badass, Sarah,” Kat says.

  Jonas exhales and uncrosses his arms. I wrinkle my nose at him. I’m a badass and he’s just going to have to deal with it. It’s all I can do not to stick my tongue out at him.

  “Hey, guys,” Henn says, engrossed with something on his screen. “Holy shit. Oksana’s going into her bank account right now—that Henderson Bank we were scouting out before.” He stares at the screen for another ten seconds. “Sha-zam. She just typed in her password. Ha! I got it.” He shakes his head. “Oh, man, I love technology.”

  “So what do we do?” I ask, my heart racing.

  “We wait a few minutes for her to log off, and then we go in and snoop around.”

  “Sounds like the perfect time for me to fill drink orders,” Josh says, heading to the bar.

  Five minutes later, just as Josh is passing out the last of our drinks, Henn calls us over to his computer screen. “She’s logged off,” he announces. “Let’s go in.”

  We all gather around Henn’s computer like we’re watching a Seahawks’ game.

  “Well, she’s already deposited your checks—one hundred eighty thousand big ones,” Henn says. “I bet that boils your blood, huh, Jonas?”

  Jonas grunts.

  “And she just transferred half of it into her savings account. Hmm,” Henn says, sounding perplexed.

  “What?” I ask. I’m practically breathless. This is all just too exciting to bear.

  “Even after today’s deposit, Oksana’s got only about half a million total in these two accounts.” He furrows his brow.

  “Hmm,” Josh says.

  “Hmm, indeed,” Henn agrees. “Chump change. These must be Oksana’s personal accounts—definitely not The Club’s main accounts.”

  “Damn,” I say. “So how do we find the big money?”

  Jonas ambles to the other side of the room, away from the group, apparently returning to his corner to sulk again.

  “We just have to wait for them to log into their main bank accounts. It could be five minutes, five hours, five days—who knows?—but I guarantee they’ll lead us there sooner or later. And in the meantime, I’ll take a nice, long gander around their files and data, make copies of everything, see if there’s anything of interest. Oh, and I’ll listen to Max’s voicemails, too. That’s so cool you got Max’s phone, Sarah.” He sips his beer. “Dang, there’s a lot to do.”

  Josh sighs. “Well, it looks like poor Henn’s gonna be working through the night again, going through all this stuff.” He looks at Kat. “What do you say, Party Girl with a Hyphen—you wanna paint Sin City red with me again?”

  “I’d actually like to help Henn, if that’s okay,” Kat s
ays. “I’m kind of excited about all this.” She looks at me. “I have a strong motivation to want to bury these guys.”

  I grin at her. There’s nothing like a best friend.

  “Would that be okay with you, Henn?” Kat asks. “Or would I be in your way?”

  “No, that’d be awesome. But only if you want to. I mean, Josh and Jonas are paying me to do this, so...” Henn sneaks a quick look at Josh, seemingly to make sure he’s not stepping on any toes by accepting Kat’s help.

  But if Josh is disappointed about the unexpected agenda for the night, he doesn’t show it. “Could you use my help, too?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” Henn says. “That’d be great.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll order us room service and the three of us will get to work.”

  “Make that the four of us. I’ll stick around and help, too,” I say. “I’m pretty motivated to bury these guys, too.” I glare at Jonas. If he’s still pissed at me, that’s not my problem.

  Jonas raises his beer to his perfect lips and takes a long, sexy swig. Okay, I’m still mad at him, I swear I am—but, damn, his lips are luscious when he sips from a bottle like that. It makes me wish I were the bottle.

  “Nah,” Josh says. “You two kids should go out and celebrate.” He looks at Jonas suggestively. “Or stay in and celebrate, whatever floats your boat. Either way, definitely celebrate—you both kicked ass today.”

  Jonas’ eyes flicker at me, but I look away. If Jonas thinks he can yell at me the way he did today and then ravage me like nothing happened, then he’s got another thing coming.

  Josh grins at me. “The three of us will move our party down to my suite and let you two crazy kids swing on the chandeliers up here.”

  Jonas takes another long, slow sip of his beer, his eyes holding mine. I jut my chin at him and then look away. If he can’t deal with the way today went down, I’m sorry, but that’s just too bad for him. I didn’t plan to desert him—I wanted Plan A to work out, but it didn’t. I had to follow my gut—had to make a split-second decision in order to accomplish the mission. Big risk, big reward—isn’t that what Jonas taught my contracts class?