“Which one?” Brandon nails me with narrowed eyes. “Are you saying you knew what was going on?”
“No, I was only at her apartment to set up the tunnel. His nickname was something like ‘Back Door.’”
“Doesn’t help to narrow them down that way. She slept with the entire gang,” Brandon says. “‘Big Dog,’ ‘Back Door,’ ‘Full Chat,’ ‘Nut Cracker,’ and ‘Fender Buff.’ ‘Handle Down’ was Dex Steele, who’s doing time in San Quentin. You remember him?”
“Uh yes.” Dex was the guy who tricked me last year by pretending to have a crush on me when all he wanted was to get into my encryption modules and frame me for attacking TrophyShots, another social media sharing site.
“So, Mitch Slack isn’t one of them?” Mitch is TrophyShot’s CEO and I had thought the guy with Samantha was him.
“Nope. Scrappers is not Mitch’s club,” Brandon clarifies.
“But why did Samantha do this? I gave her the job. Every opportunity.” I slam my fist onto the table. “She’s my cousin.”
“She’s pleading innocence,” Brandon says. “She’s a recent grad, and she did some stupid things, but she claims she had no knowledge.”
“Then she must have had help. Who are the rest of the guys? Who’s ‘Big Dog?’” I can’t believe Samantha did this on her own. Someone stupid enough to leave her router management password in plain view is stupid, but not devious, unless she left it there to make her seem innocent. Hmmm …
Brandon rubs his chin and averts his gaze. Somehow he’s not comfortable telling us. Could ‘Big Dog’ be ‘Big Ben?’ Or Grandpa Powers?
“Is a basset hound considered a big dog?” I blurt, my heart cracking into pieces. “Why would Ben do this to me and then pretend he cared enough to take me away from the mess? Is he ‘Big Dog’?”
And if he is, does this mean he also slept with Samantha?
“Big Dog,” the cockatoo yells. “Big Blizzard. Big Dog.”
“Wait, who’s bird was he before he was put up for adoption?” I march to Big Blizzard’s cage. “Who’s your owner?”
“We can find out who gave him up,” Lacy says. “It can’t be Grandpa Powers. He’s computer illiterate. Where are the records for Ragamuffin’s Rescue?”
“I have them somewhere. I run their website.” I scramble to my laptop, but Brandon clamps his hand over my shoulder.
“No need. It’s your security chief, Sean Rodgers.”
All the air in my lungs leak from my mouth. Relief that it’s not Ben. Disgust at myself for thinking he’d sleep with Samantha and screw my network, and disappointment at myself for not suspecting Sean Rodgers.
“Sean? Stinky Sean?” I slap both sides of my head. “What’d he do, leave a trail?”
“Oh, my, he must have left some smelly footprints,” Lacy joins in and kicks her heels on the coffee table, holding her stomach with laughter.
“Talk about leaving bread crumbs, they must have been stale.” I can’t help but join in. It’s such a relief it’s not Ben or Grandpa Powers.
“Juicy Melons!” Big Blizzard yells. “Juicy Melons. Breast Ben fits.”
“Wait. That’s the password on the router,” I exclaim. “Juicy Melon Breasts.”
“So, Big Blizzard was Sean’s bird?” Lacy shrieks hysterically. “Why’d he give him away?”
“Big Blizzard talks!” the bird crows with his characteristic head bob. His feathers stand straight up and he flaps his wings, stirring up dirt. “Talk too much!”
“High five,” Lacy says. “You caught the hackers and got your company back.”
“That remains to be seen,” I say. “Dave and Jen might blame me for bringing Samantha in. I thought I could trust her. I can’t believe she slept with the entire motorcycle club, especially Stinky Sean.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, that’s only what they said about her in their instant messages. You know how guys are.” Brandon levels an apologetic gaze at me.
Lacy elbows him. “Seriously? Not all guys. I bet neither you or Ben would drag some woman’s name in the mud by claiming she slept with the entire motorcycle gang.”
“It’s up to her attorney to sort it out,” Brandon says. “And thanks for your vote of confidence. You know I never sleep and talk.”
“No, you don’t talk in your sleep.” She snaps her fingers. “Shucks.”
“If I did, you’d only hear your name.” He slants his face into hers and before I can count to one, he and my sister are lip-locked, smooching and making all sorts of sickening cooing noises.
I walk to the birdcage and let Big Blizzard out. “Sorry Stinky Sean was so bad to you. At least I have you now.”
“Juicy Ben!” he squawks and sidesteps up my arm to perch on my shoulder. “Big juicy Ben fits.”
~ Ben ~
“Come on, Treat.” Ben dangled a leash. “Get your lazy butt off the floor.”
Grandpa had stubbornly come home and driven away the home health aide. He insisted he could take care of himself, but he still needed help going in and out of the bathroom as well as taking a shower. The wound was healing well, but looked gruesome. They’d wired his breastbone back together and glued the skin. Nash was in charge of cooking healthy food, and Ben found himself with exercise duty.
“You, too, Grandpa. Gotta get your walk in.” Ben helped his grandfather from his recliner. “Up you go.”
Grandpa groaned and shuffled toward the parson’s bench to put on his shoes.
The basset hound also groaned and waddled toward the leash. Ben rubbed the dog’s loose skin and attached the leash to his collar.
“Let’s go,” Ben said to the lazy dog. “Let’s take you to do doggie things, like sniff, pee, and scratch.”
“And I gotta go do manly things like spit, pee, and scratch,” Grandpa said. “I’m not going to that assisted living center. No way, no how.”
“Then you’re going to have to exercise and take your medicine. Maybe get someone to move in with you after Nash and I leave.”
“I’m working on it,” Grandpa said, winking.
“Mystery woman?” Ben opened the screen door to the porch.
“Maybe.” Grandpa walked out and stretched. “You two don’t have to hover. Once the holidays are over, I’ll be better than new, now that they fixed my heart.”
“You’re not supposed to pick up anything heavier than ten pounds. Who’s going to get your groceries or pick up Treat when he gets tired?” Ben helped his grandfather down the steps of the porch as Treat followed.
“I’ll manage without your help.” Grandpa brushed Ben’s hand off his arm and trudged slowly down the path.
“Waarrruff.” Treat shook his jowls and plodded after them. It would be hard to get someone to adopt a lazy, old dog who probably wouldn’t play fetch or go running.
“You two go ahead,” Grandpa said when they got to the road. “I’ll just make a few turns around the house.”
“You sure? We can follow you,” Ben said, not liking how independent his stubborn grandfather could be.
“Stop hovering!” Grandpa leveled him with a glare.
“Okay, okay.” Ben beat a hasty retreat and took Treat down the road behind the horse fence. He kept an eye out for Grandpa until he disappeared behind the woodshed.
“I don’t know what to do about you and Big Blizzard,” Ben said to Treat as they walked down the dirt road. “I’m going to be traveling all the time, and well, Grandpa loves you, but he can’t take care of you anymore.”
Treat only huffed and sniffed at the fence posts. He was such a soft and cuddly dog and would make a perfect companion or at worst, a footrest for someone who stayed home all day long. Or someone who sat in front of the computer—like Brittney.
Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d been so sure that she was the one meant for him—his perfect partner. His body tingled at the memory of her soft skin, those sweet curves of hers pressed against him. Her eyes were both beautifully blue and intelligently foc
used, while her hair glowed silky like a hot summer moon.
How could he possibly forget the privilege of holding her in bed, kissing and caressing her? When she gave her consent, it was like getting the keys to a kingdom—even better. He’d taken his time and loved her—truly and thoroughly, before he turned stupid and threw it all away.
Ben picked up a rock and pitched it across the meadow. It smacked into the dirt, and it was like he’d tossed his heart into a pit. Love meant sacrifices and love was dangerous. So dangerous he could never get over losing it. Except, idiot that he was, he’d already lost it. Over and over again, he ran over the way he’d turned Brittney’s innocent and pure love into a load of nothing.
A woman as smart as Brittney would never allow him to hurt her again. At least she’d better not.
Heck, if she were his sister, he’d keep himself away from her. That applied to all the Powers boys, he thought wryly. His stepsister, Susanna, the psych major and budding therapist swore that because they’d lost their mother, they were all incapable of loving and staying with any one woman.
Rolling stones all of them, except Damon who did his rolling at home among the women of the surrounding counties.
Ben picked up another stone and drilled it at a tree, but missed by a wide margin. Brittney would have nailed it. Hadn’t she nailed him when she broke his window with a perfectly aimed rock to the heart?
“Woof.” Treat barked half-heartedly as they finished the loop around the meadow.
He brought the dog into the farmhouse and unlatched his leash. Grandpa was already sitting in his recliner flipping through TV channels. Treat ambled to the kitchen and inhaled half a bowl of water, then implored him with his big, sad eyes for a doggie treat.
Ben gave him a handful and watched as he crunched them with relish. After he was done, he sat on his haunches and bayed mournfully, “Waaarrroooo.”
Ben walked by the mirror in the dining room and glanced at his reflection. What the hell was he doing paying attention to a dog when he should be doing anything and everything to get Brittney to forgive him?
Nash had said he could recruit celebrities for the Anti-Slut-Shaming Benefit Concert, but he wanted to do more than Nash. He had to prove his sincerity. Waking up his tablet, he explored news about Brittney’s trouble with the hackers. Days had gone by and he hadn’t heard anything from her.
As he read article after article, his blood pressure rose and he became more and more alarmed. The hackers could be part of organized crime or even working for a foreign government. Some commentators warned individuals to refrain from taking on hackers by themselves, something Brittney had done the year before when she unleashed a worm attack from her honeypot. There was no update about whether the hackers had gotten caught, and both Shopahol and Mississippi.com refused to issue any statements about the investigation and Brittney’s whereabouts.
Ben didn’t know how to code a computer worth squat, but when he got to the article about Amy Suzuki, the actress who was suing Brittney for exposing her sex toy purchases, a light bulb shimmered in his brain.
He put the tablet down and called Dominique, his agent. He actually hadn’t fired her or signed with anyone else, although he’d put her under pressure by speaking to others. She’d better come through now.
“So, you finally came to your senses?” She answered on the first ring. “What can I do for you?”
“You know anyone who can put me in touch with Amy Suzuki? I’d like fifteen minutes of her time—on the phone or in person.”
“I might be able to arrange that. Let me contact her agent. What’s this about if I may inquire?”
“Her lawsuit against Brittney Reed. I’d like to talk her out of it.”
“Good luck. She’s incensed and has been rallying people to sign petitions regulating online merchants and tightening penalties for information and data breaches.”
“I won’t need luck. Just fifteen minutes.”
“Sure. I’ll refrain from making an inappropriate remark,” Dominique said. “Glad to hear from you. Delaine says she’ll see you at the Police Dog Toy Drive this weekend. She’s cutting a deal for you with the police commissioner.”
“Wonderful. I’ll want an apology too.”
“As long as you’re on your best behavior, Santa Dude. See you Saturday.”
Twenty minutes later, Dominique texted him Amy’s phone number.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
~ Brittney ~
“I can’t believe I have to go to this Police Dog thing.” I adjust the ribbons on my oh-so-innocent choirgirl Christmas angel costume. Heck, I even polished my halo, although the head-clamp is too tight since costume makers think only kids can wear halos.
“They’ll drop the charges,” Lacy says. “I have it from Owen. The police want lots of toys for tots all over Sonoma County. Besides, it’ll be good for business.”
“Want to bring your bird?” Lacy hooks a glance at Big Blizzard who bounces excitedly, fluttering his wings.
“He’s not my bird.”
“Bree-ney love Ben, Bree-ney love Ben,” the large white bird jeers.
“Ugh, why did you have to teach him that?”
“Because it’s true. Besides, I have word that Ben’s going to be Santa.”
“Not again.” I groan so loud that Big Blizzard copies me with his own high pitched “awwwroo.”
Inside, my heart’s doing jumping jacks and all my little female hormones are preening and dancing like a bunch of Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders at the thought of being in the same room with Ben. Even though he’s ignoring me, I’m going to get a rise out of him by acting like I’m perfectly fine without him. I’ll show him what he missed when he turned his back on me.
“Has he contacted you yet?” Lacy asks, a frown marring her face. “I asked Nash and he says he doesn’t know.”
“Wait a minute.” I hold my hand up like a school crossing guard. “Why are you and Nash in cahoots? Can’t you two leave off with the meddling?”
“We only want you two to be happy,” Lacy says in a sing-song voice—the one that lets me know she thinks she knows best for what will make me happy. “Hold still while I attach your angel wings.”
“Juicy boobs!” Big Blizzard chortles.
“Not boobs, silly bird, wings.” I spread my arms and flap.
“Maybe they look like bird boobs to him,” Lacy says. She tightens the laces which resemble the stays and ties for corsets, pulling me back. “Hold still.”
“I need a four poster bed to hold onto like those heroines in the Regency romances,” I grab ahold of the door frame. “Ouch, it’s too tight.”
All this tightening’s going to make my boobs look even bigger as they overflow the wing corset. Fortunately, the gown’s neckline goes all the way to my neck and is trimmed with a big dollop of fake white fur.
“At least this way, your wings won’t droop.” She yanks hard and ties a knot. “There, don’t you look like the perfect angel. Ben’s going to take one look and his heart will melt all the way into his pants.”
“Pul-lease, that’s not an image I ever want to imagine. Yuk!”
What’s the deal with Lacy and her pregnancy hormones? She isn’t due until January, which means we have to put up with her moaning about not drinking on New Year’s Eve and then some.
“Okay, grab your bird and off you go.” Lacy pats my behind and picks up my angel gown train.
Whoever thought that angels should wear gowns with fake white fur was either delusional or works for a dry cleaner.
A few minutes later, Lacy and I, along with Big Blizzard enter the same barn at my parents’ tree farm where our last disastrous appearance was. Funny how my parents got talked into providing the venue for the Police Dog’s Toy Drive.
A couple of dropped charges could be the key.
“Waaaharoooh!” Treat greets us with a booming howl which is answered by Big Blizzard’s ear-splitting shriek. “Aaaahrrreee!”
“Oh, please, stop copying that h
ound dog,” I shush my bird, er, well he’s not mine. “You’re hecka lot smarter than he is. You can speak words.”
“Bree-ney love Ben. Bree-ney love Ben.”
“Oh, hush.” My face heats as my eyes dart around for Santa Ben. He’s too large of a target to miss, so I’m pretty safe so far. “Go back to your Aaaaarheee.”
“Big juicy booboos. Whaddabout Ben big juice!” This bird loves the sound of his voice too much. I can almost see why Stinky Sean gave him away.
After Sean was arrested, he blamed everything on me, saying I was the one who messed up his promotion to marketing because I caught him sneaking into Jewell’s office.
Well, hell, I didn’t need to be a bloodhound to find him. When Jewell asked who’d been in his office, all it took was one sniff to identify the culprit. People used to come to me and ask, “Where’s Sean?”
I’d get up out of my office and sniff, scenting the air, then confidently point. “He went that way.”
I always knew where he was, which is why I don’t think he slept with Samantha at all. I never smelled him at her place or detected his B.O. on her. As expected, Samantha’s lawyer claims she’d been set up. Supposedly, the scheme was to frame me as the culprit for using Samantha to hack into my own network so I could discredit Shopahol and help my brother-in-law start his own company with my brilliant ideas.
Marlena explained that she was onto me from day one, tracking me and sifting through my private email and files. She was the one who ransacked my office, and she even put a GPS tracker on my car. The night I switched cars with Lacy had tricked her, and when she realized I was in the office instead of at home, she decided I was the guilty party and fingered me to the Jewells.
To their credit, they refused to believe I was so devious, and when I resigned, both Marlena and the lawyer, Michele Song, thought it was a ruse to make myself look innocent.
Their case against me unraveled when I went off the grid during my time at the Christmas cottage, at the same time the Christmas lists were posted. They knew I hadn’t accessed the internet because by then, they had subpoenaed my cell phone usage as well as my DSL connection.
“Ho, ho, ho!” The deep booming voice that makes me weak in the knees and fluttery inside out hails through the barn door.
Santa's Pet Page 29
