Digging a Hole

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Or maybe not? I am part owner of the company, and he’s got me doing the hacking. It can’t be illegal for me to dig around or take emails that belong to Walton Holdings.

  Still, this feels so damned wrong, but it’s either this or watch Henry and Elle get arrested. I’d warn them, but I’m guessing the FBI has anticipated I might and that they’d simply pass go and start arresting everyone.

  I get to my desk and am immediately greeted by Rebecca, who tells me I’ll be finishing my six-month internship with her. We set up a time to go over the projects I’ll be working on. Once she’s gone, I get to work.

  Step one: call Robbie, who’s raised his price to one hundred and fifty per hack.

  Step two: give him remote access to my computer.

  Step three: pretend I’m working while he logs into the server through some portal thingy and attempts to get through their firewall thingamajig through my laptop.

  “I’m in,” Robbie says over the phone.

  “Great. Now what?” I ask.

  “Read off the server ID to me.”

  I give Robbie the info, and through the phone, I hear him tapping away on the keyboard. Suddenly, a long script pops up on my screen, but nothing happens.

  “Are you sure that’s the right server name?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I repeat it for him just to be sure.

  “Then it’s not here.”

  “What do you mean, not here?” I ask.

  “Exactly what I said. And you’re not getting your money back.”

  “Keep the money,” I hiss. “Just find the server.”

  “It’s not here. Maybe it’s been shut down or replaced or who the hell knows? Look, I gotta go. I’m playing God of War and Kratos lost his ax.”

  “Huh?” The call ends, and my computer screen shuts down. I can’t believe this guy! If they had a Yelp for hackers, like Yackers, he’d be getting a frowny face from me.

  I drop my head and groan. Crap. What am I going to do? If I tell Brooks—dammit!—I mean Sam, he’ll just jump to his fallback plan: arrest.

  Okay. I give it some thought. I know how badly Sam wants this, so I am going to tell him. Maybe they got the server name wrong. Maybe it’s on some entirely different network.

  I grab my phone and text him: No go on the server-o. No chickens in the coop.

  Sam immediately responds: I know.

  Me: What do you mean you know???!

  Sam: It was a test. Wanted to make sure we can trust you.

  I fume. What an a-hole! Does he have any idea of what I just went through? Actually…I pause, realizing I sort of feel fine. No urge to freeze up, cry hysterically, or hurl cookies.

  Me: Why? What’s the plan?

  Sam: Come to my apartment after work, Georgie.

  Me: Ok, but—

  Ohshit! Ohshit! He called me Georgie. He knows!

  My phone rings, and it’s him.

  “Ye-yes?” I say.

  “You didn’t actually believe the FBI would pick some random intern to help us, did you?”

  No. Maybe. Okay, yes! “How long have you known?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Of course it does. I want to know if he’s been playing me all along—the niceties, the encouragement, the kiss. Because his cover went way beyond just pretending to be Nick Brooks. He’s always been after my family, and if he knew who I was from day one, then this was all just some big old mindfuck. The only thing I don’t get is why he’d be so cruel to me at first.

  “Yes. It matters,” I say.

  “Seven o’clock sharp. My place. Don’t be late. And, Georgie, whatever you do, don’t go running to your brother. He’s already in enough trouble.” Sam hangs up.

  I glare at my phone. What the hell? I very literally want to throttle this man with my bare hands.

  It’s seven thirty by the time I get to Sam’s door. Yes, I arrive late on purpose. I resent the fact he’s been toying with me from day one.

  “You’re late,” he says, opening the door. He’s wearing a bruise on one chiseled cheek, faded jeans, and a plain black T-shirt that accents the swells of his pecs and large biceps. I hate that he’s so good looking, even with a facial scuff. It’s a total waste of a hot man body!

  I close the front of my pink hoodie, feeling my usual vulnerability creeping in. “Yeah, well, I had to stop by the pharmacy for some Pepto and St. John’s Wart.”

  He closes the door and raises a brow.

  “My stomach and I aren’t friends with stress, which you’ve brought to my life in festering, copious heaps,” I explain.

  “I’m sorry, Georgie,” he says in a low voice. “It was never my intention to pull you into this.”

  “Oh no?” I poke his chest. “Seems like you knew from day one what you were doing.” I narrow my eyes. “The flirting and whole fucked-up mentor-act. You’re the worst. And what was the point of being so harsh with me? Because I know it wasn’t to help me like you said.”

  “Yes, it was an act, but I did what I had to do. Can we not get into this right now?”

  So he did do all that on purpose! What a jerk!

  “No!” I shove at his chest. “You were heartless and cruel. You wardrobe shamed me and insulted my mother. I spent two full days bawling my eyes out in the ladies’ room because of you, and now I find out it was some act. Why, Sam? Why put me through all that and then be nice to me and make me like you, only to fuck me again with this FBI bullcrap and threaten my family—who I know for a fact has nothing to do with any of this shit! Henry and Elle are good. Unlike you. You just hurt and lie and make me want you, and then you use it against me like some sexual monster, a monster of seduction. You should be disbarred. Or whatever they do to mean, hot FBI agents.”

  Sam looks uncomfortable—eyes shifting, upper-lip biting, and muted groaning. “Are you done yet?” he mumbles from the side of his mouth. “Because my team and I would like to go over the plan.” He jerks his head to the right toward his dining room area.

  I slowly turn my body to find three stern-looking men and one woman, all wearing plain T-shirts and jeans, looking oddly underdressed given their stiff, authoritative demeanors.

  Great. They heard all that, including my confession of lusting after him. I run for the bathroom.

  “It’s a nervous thing. Just give her a minute,” I hear Sam say right as I slam the door shut. I bow my body over the sink, once again feeling like my heart is about to explode and take my stomach with it.

  “Georgie?” Sam steps inside and closes the door behind him.

  “Go away.” The last thing I need is to have him see me like this—sweating, panting, and my green eyes looking like Christmas ornaments with all that red in them. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I run the cold water and splash some on my face. Thankfully, my hair is up in a top knot today.

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” he places a warm hand between my shoulder blades and makes soothing little circles, “but you need to trust me now. I’m not the bad guy. I just need to get to the bottom of all this because it’s the right thing to do.”

  I shut off the water and turn, my face dripping. “You’re serious. You want me to trust you. Why would I do that?”

  “Because you know you can.”

  “Oh really?” I throw my hands into the air. “Then why not just tell me what was going on from the beginning? Why the games and humiliation and manipulation?”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t work alone, Georgie. I have a boss just like everyone, and we follow protocols when it comes to figuring out who we bring under the tent.”

  “Fine. But that doesn’t explain why you treated me like dirt and then acted like you cared.”

  “Of course I care. But I volunteered for this role because I have a personal stake in this. I committed to do anything asked of me. The asshole you saw was part of the job. Someone like Nick Brooks would never be suspected of being anything except a greedy, arrogant, egotistical prick. He’s the first to break the rules
. He’s the last person who’d get upset over a few under-the-table deals—some of which he facilitated.”

  I chew on it for a moment. “You did all that for show. So Craigson would trust you.”

  “Yes, and it worked. I showed him a guy who was just as soulless as he was, and he let me right in.”

  “And what about me?” I ask.

  “You came out of left field. No one knew for sure, but we suspected you came to keep an eye on me, which would mean there was a very serious leak. We decided the best approach was to test you. We had to know.”

  That’s why he gave me the job so quickly. I want to gasp and cover my mouth, but instead, I just stand there stewing.

  He continues, “We—my team—all agreed that if it was a fluke, you’d bolt after a few days of abuse. But if you were there to spy on me, then you’d stick it out no matter how nasty I got.”

  The dots start connecting in my head. He wanted to run me out. “But I stayed.”

  “Yes. You sure the hell did. But when I took that trip to New York, I was really in Virginia meeting up with my team to decide what to do with you—take you into custody quietly so you wouldn’t undermine our work, or feed you misinformation. But then,” he shakes his head, “you pulled all that crap with the airline ticket and my bank account. That’s when I suspected you had no clue who I was. No one working undercover would jeopardize themselves with sloppy sophomoric pranks.”

  I drop my jaw. “Excuse me, but they were genius and carefully planned.”

  “You gave your name to the credit card and cell phone companies. Your hacker friend used a computer from the university that had his log-in ID. But the hidden speaker in my office sealed the deal—amateur hour. The porn soundtrack was a nice touch though.”

  I thought all the ladies would complain to HR about Brooks watching porn in his office, thus mounting a case for his termination.

  He adds, “FYI, my office was swept regularly for bugs. And no one trying to legitimately spy on me would be dumb enough to stick it under my drawer with watermelon-scented duct tape.”

  “I love that tape. It smells really nice. And I’m not dumb.”

  “No. You’re not. You’re very bright, Georgie,” he says affectionately, his gaze falling to my lips. “And I’m not going to lie, I felt a certain pride when you stood up to me. I knew it was a big moment for you because you did not deserve to be treated like that. And for that, I am very, very sorry—for hurting you and…for everything else.”

  I could almost accept his apology if it weren’t for that last part, which I assume is in reference to him making me believe there was something between us. For that, there is no excuse.

  “Well, let me tell you something, Sam. I think your heart is in the right place, but I would never hurt people—good people—in order to get what I want. You misled me. You made me believe in you and—fuck me for saying this—but I started having feelings for you, which is why I went to bat to get your job back. And that’s what makes you a horrible person. You’re willing to leave dead bodies in the road to get what you want when there’s another way.”

  “Georgie—”

  “No.” I shake my finger in his face. “You could have told me the internship was filled. You could have said I wasn’t right for it, like the ten other companies who rejected me. But you made a choice to manipulate and deceive me. And yes, I may have lied about my name, but I never pretended to be someone else. But you! You! Put me in the middle of another horrific situation—a person who has had her life turned upside down, whose own father crashed a plane just to hide his grand kidnapping scheme. You may have lost your wife, and I know that hurts, but it doesn’t give you the right to hurt me and to take away the only good I have in my life: my family. There is another way, Sam, but you’re going after the jugular—my jugular.”

  Sam draws a deep breath. “I’m not going to argue, Georgie. You don’t deserve any of this, but, frankly, I don’t believe your brother or his new wife had anything to do with what PVP is up to. However, there isn’t one person at the bureau willing or able to save your family from the avalanche of accusations about to come once we arrest Craigson and the other executives behind this bullshit. Henry, at the very least, will be taken down with them, along with your father, and I think you know I’m right. It’s the reason you told Henry nothing and agreed to hack the server for us—you believed we wouldn’t find anything.”

  It dawns on me; he wanted to see what I’d do. If Henry were involved and I knew it or had any doubts, I would have jumped to warn him.

  “Georgie,” he adds after a long pause, “not everything I said was a lie.”

  I fold my arms over my chest, waiting for him to elaborate.

  Torment floods his eyes. “I really do think you deserve something better. You’re a good woman. And you have a chance at a long and happy life. If you stay away from damaged men.”

  “Damaged. Like you.”

  “In the worst kind of way.”

  His words drain the last of my energy. I’m literally exhausted—with this situation, with him, with my own emotions—and I can’t think straight. I need Teddy, a good stress cry, and sleep.

  “So now what?” I ask with a sigh.

  “Now you help us finish this. And you clear your brother’s and sister-in-law’s names.”

  “How?”

  “You’re going to help me break into your brother’s safe and get a thumb drive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After I leave Sam’s apartment, I’m driving home and get a call from Abi. She’s been texting me about going to some housewarming party tonight. I’m definitely not in the mood. My head hurts, I’m worried sick about how everything will shake out, and most of all, I do not want to break into my brother’s safe.

  “I’m sorry, Abi; I can’t go. I have to get up early for a family thing,” I lie. Really, I’m supposed to see Sam to go over the plan, which is basically sneaking into Henry and Elle’s on Monday when they’re both back in Austin, where Henry is finishing up the semester.

  “Come on, Georgie,” Abi whines. “I really don’t want to go alone—I won’t know anyone there except the cute guy from my accounting class who invited me.”

  “He’s an accountant, and it’s a housewarming party. I’m sure you can handle a night of Scrabble and Big Bang reruns without me.”

  “Ha. Funny. It’s actually his cousin’s party, and it’s supposed to be a big deal.”

  “I really can’t. I’m tired and—”

  “Georgie, I never ask you for anything. Especially after the thing with your dad. I mean, I was just so glad you weren’t dead. I literally cried for a month straight and could hardly leave my room after you disappeared. But the day my mom told me you were alive was the best day of my life. And since you’ve been back, it feels like you don’t want to be friends anymore. You call once a week, and I’ve seen you for lunch a few times, but that’s it. You don’t text. You don’t want to hang out. You’re in some other place mentally.”

  I sigh. I know she’s right. But how do explain that I’m breaking. I’ve taken all I can.

  “I love you, Abi. And I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I’m just worried, yanno? The stuff with my dad. The legal battle. My parents’ divorce. Studying for makeup finals. My brother and sisters going out of their minds trying to keep the wheels on the bus.” And my horrible, hot boss who’s really an FBI agent. “But soon this crap will all be over, my family will be safe, and everything will go back to normal.”

  “Not too normal, I hope. I like the new you and how you’re finally coming out of your shell. I just wish…I wish I could be a part of it, instead of feeling like some stranger watching from afar.”

  I get what she’s saying. She and I have suffered from this affliction as long as we’ve known each other. Now we’ve both changed and have this opportunity to do the things we’ve always talked about—go on dates, socialize with strangers, get out into the world, be bold.

  “Okay,” I say. �
�I’ll go to the party, but only because I love you, and I know you’re not going to make me stay too long. I hate parties.”

  “Yay!” She claps through the phone. “But does the new you really hate parties? Or is that the old you?”

  “Both. Definitely both. The last one I went to, my boob made a cameo in front of my boss, whose first reaction was to cover it with his hand.”

  She chuckles.

  “It wasn’t funny.”

  “Sorry.” Abi snorts. “It’s just, the man had ten other options to restore your modesty, but his first thought was to grab your tit? Sounds to me like he did the first thing that came to mind, because it was already on his mind.”

  “You’re reading way too much into it.” Sam has no interest in me outside of his mission to make PVP pay. Any feelings or affection he showed, including that panty-melting kiss, was all an act. Plus, he’s still mourning his poor wife. I’m sure of it.

  I start thinking of Erin, Sam’s sister-in-law, and how she was trying to set me up with him. He’s not the sort of man to need help getting a date. No, if he wanted to get back on the horse, he’d have women lined up, which leads me to believe that he’s not ready. Although, when he lets his guard down, there’s a look in his eyes that tells me he wants to.

  Maybe he can’t. Not until the past is settled. And if I were him, I wouldn’t rest until I’d done just that. I know what it’s like to want bad people to pay for hurting the ones I love. Sometimes I think if that pilot had been closer, I might’ve pushed his head under. Mercy for murderers simply isn’t in my genes.

  “I don’t know, Georgie,” Abi says. “I saw the way Brooks looked at you around the office. Those were not eyes of disgust.”

  I can’t tell her the real reason he had been watching me: because he’d been watching me watching me. In the FBI sense.