He said he wouldn’t do that. He promised me he wouldn’t call on his hacking skills. Betrayal snakes through me, drowning out whatever Danielson is saying until I’m staring at my plate and trying to recall if Jacobi really did promise, or if he talked around it and let me think he said yes.
What has he been up to?
Chapter 24
Jacobi
I wake up and roll over. London’s back is to me. That’s how she went to sleep. She came home from the dinner with shadows in her eyes. I wanted to know what that entitled prick did, but she said dinner was awkward and uncomfortable and she just wanted to rest.
I roll out of bed and do my business in the bathroom. She’s still asleep when I emerge. I’m edgy and I can’t escape the sense that something’s wrong.
I’d love to go for a swim, but I’m still working on cracking Danielson’s personal life. Trudging to my office, I put off breakfast until I check in on the password program I have running.
Dammit, I’m coming up with a whole lot of nothing. He’s not a con when it comes to this industry. He knows his shit. At least as much as I do.
My phone lights up. Cannon. It’s not even eight in the morning. Is he up early, or hasn’t he gone to bed yet?
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Dude, Jackson hit fucking pay dirt.”
“Who’s Jackson?”
“My friend from the army.” When I don’t say more, he makes a disgusted sound. “The one who works for the FBI and owes me a favor?”
I sit straighter, forgetting the whole lot of nothing on my screen. “He found something?”
“He won’t tell me. Wants to meet in person. Less of a trail, since it was a favor.”
Meaning this Jackson could lose his job. I hope I never owe Cannon that kind of favor. He never seems to care about the other’s circumstances when he calls to collect.
“When?”
“Now. He’s heading to a coffee shop by my place.”
“You have a place?” I’m only half-teasing. He never keeps an apartment for long, always bitching about the price increase, noisy neighbors, or some shit.
“Haha, fucker. It’s the same place you were at before you went to Cabo and got all sappy.”
Yes, I remember. “Which coffee shop?”
“The one on the corner.”
“There’s a coffee shop on every corner.”
“Not in my neighborhood. Hurry. He’s gotta get to work and he said he’s only saying it once.”
He’s got a point. I ditch the office, racing back to the bedroom.
London’s sitting up in bed, staring down at her feet dangling over the side.
“I’ve gotta run and meet Cannon.” I don’t tell her that he might have something on Danielson. I don’t think she’ll mind Cannon calling in a favor as long as it’s not me putting myself at risk. But with her soft heart, she might have issues with Cannon risking his friend’s job.
I go straight to my closet and trade in my shorts for slacks. I stuff my feet into a decent pair of shoes, only caring that they aren’t sandals or athletic shoes. Cannon’s contact is probably going to be in a suit and sitting with two dudes in board shorts might stand out. I can at least look halfway professional. I know Cannon won’t.
I’m walking out of the closet, buttoning my shirt when London looks at me over her shoulder. Her stricken expression brings me to a stop.
“Jacobi. Have you been trying to get Danielson’s information illegally?”
Fuck. “London…”
She rolls her eyes and stands, spinning to face me, wearing a cami and shorts. She usually wears one of my old T-shirts. I should’ve paid attention to the signs better. She’s upset with me. “I asked you not to.”
“We weren’t finding out anything.” It sounds like a weak explanation, but at the same time, it says everything. Her safety is my priority.
“It’s enough what we made Elsa do, but this is too far.”
“We didn’t make Elsa do anything.” In fact, I think we started an obsession with her.
Her expression oozes with disappointment. “You lied to me. You promised.” She pushes her fingers against her forehead and closes her eyes. “Considering how we met, what am I supposed to think?”
“That’s different.”
She drops her hand, but she’s slower to open her eyes. “Yeah. I thought it was too. How am I supposed to know if you don’t keep your word? If you have secrets you refuse to tell me? Don’t you think it sucks not to know if I can believe you over a guy like Danielson?”
Danielson. I have to meet with Cannon. “London, I really have to go. Can we talk about this later?”
“I have to get ready for work.”
“Please, London. Promise me you’ll talk to me.”
She folds her arms and I’m tempted to gather her into mine and work things out until she trusts me implicitly again. But she can’t. Like she said, I haven’t told her everything. I will when I get back.
“Please.” Goddammit, I’ll beg if I have to. “I’d stay, but I think this information will help you, belle.”
Her jaw clenches. The term of endearment might’ve gone too far. “Of course I’ll talk to you, Jacobi. But I have to know the truth. I have to be able to believe you. I’m not going to live in a castle and find out later the hero is really the villain of the story.”
She doesn’t want to feel like a fool, like how finding out about her father made her feel.
I step forward to give her a quick kiss but she shakes her head. A small movement that’s as powerful as a kick to the nuts.
“Later, London.” We’ll talk later. I spin out, flying through the house to my car and racing down my driveway.
The drive to Cannon’s neighborhood takes way too long. I find the coffee shop with little problem. There’s a few around his apartment, but I go for the one that’s a dive. I find a parking spot a little farther away. When I walk inside, my shoes pound ominously on the ceramic tile.
I find Cannon sprawled in a wrought-iron chair across from a guy in his mid-thirties in a black suit and sporting a buzz cut. Cannon lifts his chin, barely sparing me a glance. Jackson assesses me. His glittering dark eyes are cool. He takes a drink of coffee and grimaces. This place passes off hot tar as a cup of java.
Cannon shoves a to-go coffee cup toward the edge of the table. I don’t drink coffee and I’m afraid to taste what he bought me. “I got you a green tea since you’re boring as fuck.”
“Thanks, man.” I ignore the drink. “So?”
Jackson’s brows lift and he sucks in a breath. “Okay. No small talk. I get it.” He grips his cup with both hands and leans forward, his voice low. “The man you asked me about is not named Danielson Blanchard.”
“What?” I bark and look around, but the clientele here isn’t the nosy type.
“His name is Philip Brown.”
“But he’s the developer of a well-known program. His face is on the website.”
Jackson nodded, like yep, that’s all true, but there’s a big but. “He created Danielson just out of college, carefully crafted the identity with the help of one Roland Blanchard. Roland’s son passed away a few years prior and he was friends with Philip. Since then, he’s been trying to crack any federal security program he can.”
“Why the hell would he want to do that?” Cannon asks.
But to me, all the dominos fall into place. Hell, if I was more ambitious, I might’ve done it myself. “Because then he’ll be there waiting with the perfect programs, tailored specifically to what the government needs.”
Jackson nods grimly. “He started with a local police department where he lived before he fled to LA. He was rerouting every website visitor to porn. And who did they seek out to help fix it? Danielson Blanchard.”
The government would be a huge client. Lucrative. Not exactly genius, but industrial as hell.
“We were all set to apprehend him when he vanished. He must’ve been watching us chase after him, like a v
ulture in the treetops.”
Cannon tosses his empty cup in the garbage behind him. “I don’t get it. Why London?”
Jackson glances at me. It’s a test, to see if I can figure it out. But I can’t, so he fills us in. “Roland’s in trouble, Philip doesn’t have time to wait for his plan to go into effect, his company’s dying. Cue Mr. Vanderbeek’s death. A wealthy wife and daughter left behind, and all not far away from one of them. He can get access to millions to keep himself living the good life with the best toys while targeting his top competitor. It’s a nice Plan B.”
Now it makes sense. “Because if Top Shelf can’t keep a makeup company secure, what good are they for the government.”
“Bingo. Quite honestly, the team working the case didn’t make the connection until Cannon sent the pictures and I clued them in.”
Cannon sits up, his flinty gaze boring into Jackson. “You fucking told them?”
“I owed you a favor. I gave you the information on Danielson. We’re even. But I’m not keeping a threat to our national security to myself. And I’m not letting you two get involved any further than you already are. Local authorities are picking him up now, including Roland Blanchard. That’s why I insisted on meeting you.” He shoots a knowing look toward Cannon. “I needed to know where your interfering ass was.”
“It’s my interfering ass that saved your life,” Cannon says hotly.
I think he’s going to argue with Cannon, but he frowns and pulls his phone out. “Excuse me,” he says after looking at the screen.
I exchange a frustrated glance with Cannon. I don’t often see him pissed, but the uptight soldier I suspect he hides away makes a rare appearance. He’s livid.
“What? How the hell—” Jackson rushes out.
I don’t have to say anything to Cannon. We’re on the same wavelength. I hop up and charge outside just as Jackson’s getting into his unmarked black sedan. He tears away and I sprint toward mine, Cannon behind me.
* * *
London
I keep moving. I want to collapse in bed and hope that answers fall from the sky. What does Jacobi’s lying mean? Why am I so upset? Why am I not as upset as I should be? What do I do about it all?
I don’t like him lying to me. My visceral reaction of wanting to shred him apart for daring to think about it is unlike me. I don’t have violent gut reactions. But only a few months ago, I thought my daddy was the best in the world and I never thought I’d heal from the ache of losing him.
Then Jake swept me off my feet. I forgot about my pain and my heart was free to soar once again. Jake turned to Jacobi and a different kind of love filled my chest, but also a new sort of pain. The dad I adored, the man who treated me like a princess, hurt so many people and used me as the excuse.
I don’t want to find out that the person I’m in love with is like that. Dad lied to me. He lied to Diana, and we were supposed to be the most important people in his life. Again, he used that as an excuse to get away with his behavior.
I won’t stand for it. I need to know that Jacobi is a good guy. I need to know that I’m not being used for more appalling behavior.
Giving my hair one last swipe, I look in the mirror. I showered, blew out my hair, and took my time with my makeup. I’ll do. My pale pink blouse and white linen pants are super girly and everything I need right now. I’m going to walk into work and dominate the day like the badass CEO that I am. Then I’m going to come home and learn everything Jacobi has locked away from me. If I don’t like it, I’ll walk.
My chest constricts, white-hot pain cutting through my flesh. I’ll leave with a broken heart, but I’ll leave.
As I’m turning to head down the stairs, Jacobi’s open office door catches my eye. I’m tempted to run and shut it, but it serves him right. He went rushing out for something that has to do with me, but I don’t know anything about it. He only does because he broke the law.
I force myself to take the time to have my banana and yogurt. Jacobi is not altering my day. I don’t have to be into the office until ten. If I leave in fifteen minutes, I’ll be good. The food could just as well be tasteless, but I finish everything and gather my laptop bag and tote bag.
I’m ready to face the world.
My car’s parked out front. I charge out the door and smack into a chest.
A scream gets caught in my throat. I look up, knowing in the deepest part of my soul that it’s not Jacobi. If I ran into him, I would’ve been startled but tempted to sink farther into his heat.
The sensation doesn’t leave when I see who it is. “Danielson!”
How the—the gate is closed. But Jacobi was in such a rush he left the office open. Did he leave the gate open? Movement behind him catches my eye. Roland. He’s pale, the bags under his eyes giving him a hound dog look.
“Roland?” I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s bad.
“Get inside, London.” Gone is the charming geek who wore his suit like he earned it and wanted to rub it in everyone’s face. Danielson’s unyielding. Enraged.
The door’s not shut, but I’m blocking it.
“Come on,” Roland says, like he’s holding up the weight of the world. He waves his arm and a glint of silver catches my eye.
Ice lines my veins, but my mouth hasn’t caught up. “Is that a gun? Is it real?” Because Roland can’t have a gun. My dad was a con artist, but he wielded the mighty pen to hurt people. The seedy world I’ve been exposed to had prostitution and drugs and fraud, but not fucking weapons.
“It’s real.” Danielson pushes me and an indignant shriek rips from my throat as I drop my tote and computer bag as I stumble back. I’m scared, but I’m so fucking annoyed that I’m being held up by two bumbling idiots.
Only they aren’t bumbling. Roland’s holding the gun like he knows how to use it, he just doesn’t want to.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, my voice surprisingly steady. “Robbing me?”
Danielson grabs my upper arm. “You got it. You’re going to transfer a nice wad of cash to one of my accounts.”
He really is robbing me.
I crane my head over my shoulder as Danielson drags me around the lower level, peering into every room. “Roland?”
The older man trails behind us. He shakes his head like he can’t help it. “I’m sorry, London. It wasn’t supposed to come to this.”
“Your fucking boyfriend ruined things,” Danielson growls. His face is beet red and his bruising grip is crushing down harder with each room he passes. “Where the fuck is his computer?”
“U-upstairs.” I didn’t mean to tell him, but the pain shooting up my arm is enough to keep my mouth running.
I trip up the stairs as Danielson drags me behind him, berating me the entire time. “You’re so fucking gullible, but you chose to wise up when I move to town. This would’ve been so fucking easy.”
“What would’ve been?”
“Duh.” We reach the top and he looks both ways. From this angle he can see the open office door. He yanks me down the hall, Roland following behind. “I was going to marry you for your money.” He says it like it’s the most obvious answer in the world and lifts a shoulder. “The pussy probably wouldn’t have been so bad.”
I draw back, but can’t go far. It’s stupid, but his insults are just as shocking as an armed Roland. Even with the proof in front of me, causing me pain, I can’t picture Danielson as a hardened criminal. “Why me?”
There have to be a lot of rich women just waiting for a handsome guy, who could care less about how much of a freeloader he is.
He ignores my inquiry. “He spies on you. Did you know that?” He flings my arm away as he sits at the desk. “Keep it pointed on her,” he instructs Roland.
I rub my aching muscle and glance between him sitting in Jacobi’s chair and Roland blocking the door. The French doors to the outside deck are locked, but all I have to do is flick it to the side and I can run outside to the deck and down the stairs. There are more pla
ces to hide outside than in here. But how do I do that with Roland? He doesn’t have to have good aim in these tight quarters.
“Look at this.”
My face fills the screen. It’s the one the media loves to use. I look young and underqualified, so different from the studio photos of most CEOs, many who happen to be older than me. I’m flattered I’m his backdrop, but I have no idea why Danielson thinks it’s an issue.
“Not even secure,” Danielson scoffs. “And he’s supposed to be one of the best.” He clicks on the one file on Jacobi’s desktop labeled with my initials. “Could it be this easy? Oh, yep.”
He pulls up a picture and aims the smuggest look at me. I frown, hugging my arms around myself. It’s another picture of me. “Okay?”
“When was that taken, London? How old were you?”
I swallow hard, not understanding.
He slams his hand on the table. “Look!”
I jump and do as he says. “It’s, um, it’s… I was eighteen. It’s after my graduation party.” In my parents’ back yard, when everyone left but my dad’s pride was still bright enough to negate the need for yard lights. Jacobi has stuff on me from that far back?
“Was it published anywhere but your mom’s phone?”
I… don’t know. Maybe she posted it somewhere? Not Diana. With her past, she stayed far away from social media.
He flips through all the documents, lingering on them long enough for me to see what each one is. Bank statements going back years. Pictures of me from Diana’s phone. From my dad’s phone. The throbbing in my arm is forgotten as nausea takes over. So many documents. More than Danielson can pull up.
“The guy you’re fucking is a stalker. What do you think about that?” A shit-eating grin spreads across his flushed face. He’s sweating after the effort of dragging me through the house, too used to sitting behind a screen. If only I could get outside. I could outrun both him and Roland. But that gun. “I’ve had a lot of time to research all of you when I got out here. I mean, when Roland told me about Diana and mentioned you, I thought it was a slam dunk. But then he tells me about Jacobi fucking Dixon before I even have a chance to land in LA. The rumors about that guy in the industry…. After that, it was a matter of pride. I tried fucking with him, found pictures of his parents, sent them to throw him off his game, but he didn’t falter. Cold-hearted bastard. So I tried another route and found his obsession with you.”
Redeemed: Ruined and Redeemed Duet - Book 2 Page 21
