Jorge’s toss of the head toward Gabriel was friendly, and he gave Oscar a final scratch behind his ears. “You assume I have one.” He smirked. “That’s your first mistake.”
He threw a final wave at us and closed the door softly behind him.
“I think Greene needs to meet that kid,” said Gabriel, with something like admiration in his tone.
“Right? Between the two of them, they’d get in and change the nuclear codes just for fun.”
Gabriel stood and cleared both coffee mugs from the table. He rinsed them in the kitchen sink and then turned off the coffee pot, dumped the dregs, and rinsed that too.
“You’ve been domesticated,” I said drily.
“You try being feral in a home full of women.” He dried his hands and then met my eyes. “Jorge’s theories are sound. I think you and I should sit down with Sullivan and O’Malley, and maybe Greene, to discuss our options.”
I leaned against the doorway. “I got weird last night, and I’m sorry.”
He seemed to freeze in place for the space of a breath, and then he smiled. “You are weird, and I’m not sorry.”
I stared at him open-mouthed as a huff of surprised laughter escaped. “I’m not quite sure what to do with that.”
He shrugged, and somehow it was the very best thing he could have done, because I could feel myself relax under the warmth of his smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to twist it up in your head. I have the feeling you do that a lot.”
I could easily have taken offense at his easy words, but precisely because they were so easy, I didn’t. “Yeah, my head’s a pretty uncomfortable place to be a lot of the time.”
He stepped out of the kitchen and picked up his bag to sling over his chest. His voice was warm and comforting. “Well, if you decide not to invent things I didn’t mean, here’s the straight truth. I like you. I think about you a lot,” he sighed, almost as if it frustrated him, “and last night’s kiss was probably the best of my life. I’m not really doing a lot of thinking beyond that for reasons I haven’t fully considered, but I know I’d like to kiss you again.”
At least my mouth had closed, even though my eyes were trapped in his gaze and my muscles had locked into place. I finally swallowed and managed a nod. “Okay.”
Only then could I see that the easy confidence he’d been wearing when he’d spoken had masked something a little fragile, because he exhaled softly. “Okay,” he said, as he ruffled the fur behind Oscar’s ears and held my front door open for me. “My mum invited you to dinner tonight. Can you come?”
I let my amusement at the way my inner fourteen-year-old twisted his words twinkle in my eyes. “Yes,” I grinned.
His eyebrow raised in an “I see what you just did there” expression. “Good. I’ll pick up the wine.”
I gave my dog a two-handed ear scratch, kissed him on the head, grabbed my bag, and then Gabriel and I left for work, together.
29
Shane
“Payback and Karma are the bitchy little sisters of Revenge, and I promise you, it’s not a family you want to mess with.” – Shane, P.I.
Gabriel drove to the outer edge of one of the neighborhoods around the University of Chicago. It was full of overpriced apartments in converted hotels that should probably have been condemned but were still getting top dollar because of their proximity to one of the finest institutions of higher learning in the country.
It had taken three internet searches and one in-person visit to a former workplace to get contact information for Tomi – current paramour of Rose Hawkins’ husband, and Mickey Collins’ ex-girlfriend. I would only be charging Rose half my normal rate since I was doing double duty on this case.
Tomi met us in the courtyard of an Italian coffeehouse that served almond cappuccinos in pint glasses, with enough sugar and caffeine to give a person the jitters after just one. She was a pretty, petite blonde who looked a little like Nicky Hilton, and she caught my eye and gave me a tentative wave when we walked in.
Gabriel asked Tomi what he could get her. She asked for an almond cappuccino, then turned to me with a raised eyebrow when he left to order our drinks.
“I guess you’re the one who found out about me and Barry?”
I smiled. This girl was pretty bold, and considering she was probably only twenty-two or three, she would be formidable when she grew into it. “Actually, his wife already knew about you. She wanted me to tell you about her husband’s blood pressure so you’d be careful.”
Tomi scoffed just as Gabriel sat her coffee drink in front of her and handed me an Americano like he had. “That’s pretty messed up. It’s not ‘don’t screw my husband,’ it’s ‘don’t screw him so hard he dies.’” Tomi’s voice held a note of respect though, and I suppressed a smile at the expression on Gabriel’s face.
“Yeah, definitely not my typical client. But that’s not the only reason I asked to meet you,” I said.
She seemed to consider us both for a long moment, then said, “You want to know about Mickey.”
That surprised me. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Because Mickey owes people money and you’re a P.I., so someone probably hired you to find him.” She took a gulp of her sweet coffee drink and swiveled her eyes to Gabriel. “You a P.I. too?” she asked him.
“Her partner,” he said simply, and I was not prepared to like the sound of that as much as I did.
“Who do you work for?” she asked, returning her attention to me.
“A private security firm. We’re actually trying to find the woman Mickey ran off with.”
Tomi scowled. “Quimby’s wife. Serves him right she left, even if it was Mickey she took with her.”
“Did you ever work for Quimby?” Gabriel asked her.
She shook her head. “No, but he hit on me every time Mickey took me to a company thing. The guy’s gross.”
I huffed a laugh in solidarity. “So gross.”
She looked a little surprised at my ready agreement, and I could see a slightly reassessing focus as she studied me for a minute. Then she leaned in and dropped her voice. “Quimby’s in trouble. Money trouble, and maybe something else. Mickey put himself in hock to get the wife out of there.”
Mickey was an idiot then, because Mrs. Quimby had five hundred grand in her pocket, courtesy of me. Gabriel’s mouth twitched, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
“Who is Mickey in hock to?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Who knows? I got tired of the robo-calls, so I moved.”
“You moved to escape the telephone?” Gabriel asked in astonishment.
I shot him a look laden with duh. “Sometimes it’s easier.”
Tomi sipped her drink, oblivious to Gabriel’s bafflement, and I turned my attention back to her. “I’m guessing Mickey got rid of his cell?”
She shrugged. “Probably. I did. Collections is a bitch, you know?”
“I assume you have a burner phone?” I asked.
“Have to. Can’t get work if you don’t have a number.”
“If you had to get in touch with him, what would you do?”
“Talk to his Aunt Shelley. She lives up in Northport, Michigan, and every time things get tough, Mickey runs to her,” she said. Her tone was remarkably free from judgment.
“You’ve met Aunt Shelley, I take it?” I asked.
Tomi nodded. “Once. She’s a photographer, and Mickey wanted her to take our engagement photos.”
“You were engaged?” I think my mouth might have even fallen open at that.
Tomi nodded again with a shrug. “Like I said, Mickey runs to his dad’s sister every time things get weird. Getting engaged to me was definitely on his scale of weird, and Aunt Shelley had a pretty cool way of making me see why it was a bad idea for us to get married.” Tomi finished her coffee drink in one last gulp, then stood up to go. “She wasn’t wrong, was she?”
Gabriel was already on his feet, ready to block Tomi’s exit at the slightest look
from me. “Wait, Tomi, how can I find Aunt Shelley?”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you. Northport, Michigan. It’s a small town. Just ask.”
She deftly slipped around Gabriel and out of the cafe, and although my instinct was to go after her and wring her for every bit of information she had, I doubted it would do more than piss her off. So instead, I just sighed and took a sip of my coffee.
Gabriel dropped into the seat Tomi had just vacated. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I think it’s pretty interesting that Mickey’s ex-girlfriend knows Quimby’s in trouble. And I think it’s even more interesting that Denise Quimby left with half-a-million dollars, leaving behind a new luxury car, a matched set of Louis Vuitton luggage, and a wardrobe of expensive clothes.”
“Then two days later, the car’s gone.” Gabriel’s low voice sent a shiver across my skin. The good kind that came with heat, not chill.
“We should run a credit check on Quimby. It might have been repossessed,” I said.
Gabriel had his phone out and was texting something. “Just sending the credit check request to Greene,” he said.
I finished my coffee and stood to go. “Let’s go talk to your bosses about Jorge’s theory and see what kind of research we can do on Karpov and his organization.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked my messages. There was just one, from Sparky. Whatever you did the other day locked me out of everything. Get over here!
I spoke as I typed a response. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop on our way?”
“No problem. I’ll just let O’Malley know we’ll be in in about an hour.”
As we made our way to Sparky’s loft, we talked through the various bits of information we’d learned about Quimby, his wife, and his company. Talking to Gabriel was like taking notes on a case out loud, and I thought that report-writing, which was only slightly less painful than flea-combing my dog, would actually be kind of fun with him.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I gave the letter you found in my desk to a friend of Kendra’s in the rare documents department at the university library. I’ll let you know what she says,” Gabriel said as I opened the door and we entered the cool, dark lobby of Sparky’s loft. The freight elevator waited, and I pulled the gate down to go up five floors to his space.
“Who the hell did you search on my computer, Shane?” Sparky yelled when I opened the elevator doors directly into his space. He stalked across the loft to get right up in my face.
Gabriel instantly put himself between us as Sparky continued to snarl at me. “Whoever you unleashed on me has now managed to get my gas turned off and my bank account frozen. What. The. HELL!”
“Easy, friend.” Gabriel’s voice sounded soothing on the surface, but underneath I could hear the steel.
“Who the hell are you?!” Sparky said fiercely.
I stepped in front of Gabriel and turned to face him. “I’ve got this,” I said firmly. His gaze was locked on Sparky, and it took a minute for him to meet my eyes. Finally he did, and then he nodded.
I exhaled, and then turned back to Sparky, who was practically vibrating with rage.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Spark. Walk me through what happened.”
My friend seemed to realize he needed to calm down, because he backed up a step, then turned and leaned against a work table. He took a deep breath and spoke without looking up.
“You ran whatever search you ran the other day, and it set off some kind of alert,” he said as Gabriel stepped to the side of the table, within Sparky’s view but not in his space. It was a good move, designed to put him at ease while also making him aware that he couldn’t freak out on me again.
“Yeah, I remember, and I told you I’m sorry,” I said, not quite as generously as I should have. “I thought you have super-security so none of your game nerds can swat you.”
“I’m not actually a big enough jerk to be at risk for swatting, believe it or not,” he said acidly.
Gabriel watched us interact through narrowed eyes, and I wondered what he was thinking. I knew I was in a defensive snit because I’d screwed up and Sparky was mad at me, so I made myself take a deep breath and calm down.
“I’m sorry, Sparky. I know you’re not a jerk. I’m just being prickly because something I did jacked up your computer.”
His eyes widened, and I could see his temper flare. “You didn’t just jack up my computer, Shane. You left a door wide open, and now someone’s fucking with my life!”
Sparky’s hands ran through his hair like he wanted to tear it out, and he stormed away across the loft. I could see Gabriel start for him as Sparky passed me, but I quelled him with a look. I sat very still on my stool, my back to the room, waiting for the crash.
Aaaanndd… CRASH! “Fuck!” There it was. The kicked chair and the jammed toe I was waiting for. Gabriel watched Sparky warily, but I turned on my stool and then got up to help Sparky hobble to a chair.
“Dude, I think I broke it,” he gasped as he sat heavily and let me pick up his injured foot.
“Why do you wear Crocs around heavy machinery?” I asked, pulling the hot pink foam shoe from his foot.
“I wasn’t working yet.” He sucked in a breath as I probed his big toe.
“Wiggle it,” I commanded. He did, wincing, but able to move all five toes.
“You need a pedicure,” I said with a wrinkled nose as I eased the pink monstrosity back on his foot.
“You suck dog’s balls,” he mumbled.
I ignored the snicker from the peanut gallery.
“Now that you’ve gotten the destruction portion of the program out of the way, tell me what happened.” I righted the chair he’d kicked and sat across from him, knee to knee. Sparky was gingerly testing his weight on his injured foot, and I caught Gabriel’s gaze as he watched us from a spot behind Sparky where he wouldn’t be noticed.
Sparky took a shaky breath. “I don’t exactly know. I’m not a hacker like you.”
“I’m not a hacker,” I said automatically.
“You understand how it’s done. I just know that I always turn off the VPN when I pay my bills because it’s a pain in the ass to remember every single password and deal with the ‘you’re not in the country’ b.s. at the bank and the gas company. The day you opened whatever back door you did, I spent hours scrubbing everything I could think of to scrub. I ran all the software, Nortoned the hell out of the thing, and finally, that night, it booted up just like normal. The next day I had money to move and a bill to pay, so I turned off the VPN, did my business, and then got to work. This morning, I get e-mail notices that my bank account is frozen by some government agency bullshit that sends me in a phone-recorded spiral, and my gas has been turned off because of six months of non-payment.” He stared at me. “Six fucking months they say I haven’t paid a bill, when I know for certain I paid a $45 bill the day before.”
Sparky’s expression was bleak as he got up and hobbled to a counter where his laptop sat open. He swiped the touchpad and the screen lit up. “And now this.”
I moved closer to look at the background photo of the Avengers I knew was Sparky’s boot-up screen. The whole thing had a filter over the top that looked vaguely like The Hulk’s skin. “Is it usually so green?” I asked as I swiped the trackpad again to see if it would wake up further.
“It’s green?” Gabriel asked, his deep voice suddenly at my left ear as he looked over my shoulder at the computer.
“Like I asked before, who the hell are you?” Sparky asked, startled out of his bleak apathy.
“Shane’s partner.” Gabriel didn’t look at him – just studied the screen. He typed in a couple of commands I knew would reboot a frozen screen, but nothing changed.
“The green screen looks like a locked Photoshop layer,” I said to Gabriel.
“I don’t have Photoshop on that laptop,” Sparky said. “I didn’t know you had a partner,” he added quietly to me, and I could hear the accusation
in his tone.
I opened my mouth to respond to Sparky, except it suddenly registered what had gotten Gabriel’s attention. I took a step back from him because if I was right, I might have wanted to accidentally punch him. “Why is the screen green, Gabriel?”
He didn’t say anything as he typed another ineffective command into the laptop, but neither did he meet my eyes.
“Gabriel?” I could feel the accusations blooming like toxic flowers in my lungs. “Does he leave a calling card when he hacks in? Something pretty, and poisonous, and deadly – like a green screen?”
He inhaled as if steeling himself, and then faced me. “It’s possible,” he said quietly.
“FUCKING HACKER!” I roared, utterly and completely furious.
Gabriel flinched, and Sparky stared at me as though Medusa snakes had just sprouted from my head. “You know this guy?” he squeaked.
“We may,” Gabriel answered quietly.
30
Gabriel
“Things that are equally inadvisable: sliding down a 50-foot razor blade and pissing off a hacker.” – Billy “Sparky” Spracher
Shane was shaking with anger as she sat down in front of the laptop and opened an e-mail server.
“Wait, Shane, what are you doing?” The prosthetist, aptly called Sparky, seemed to come back to consciousness all at once. He reached for the keyboard of his laptop, but she batted his hand away as if it were a fly.
“Pissing off a hacker,” she growled.
“Wait, wha... don’t do that!” Sparky sounded frantic, and she batted his hand away again as he tried to reach for the laptop.
“Go sit down, Spark!” she snarled, typing furiously. She was likely playing with the digital equivalent of rocket fuel, but somehow, I didn’t think Shane would back down from taking on Alex Greene.
She hit send and then pushed back from the computer. She was scowling. “Did you know?” she asked quietly. She didn’t look at me, but I knew she was talking to me.
Code of Conduct (Cipher Security Book 1) Page 17
