How to Hack a Hacker (Unholy Trifecta Book 3)

by AJ Sherwood

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Dictionary

  Author

  This book is a work of fiction, so please treat it like a work of fiction. Seriously. References to real people, dead people, good guys, bad guys, stupid politicians, companies, restaurants, events, products, locations, pop culture references, or wacky historical events are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Or because I wanted it in the story. They belong to their own owners. Characters, names, story, location, dialogue, weird humor, and strange incidents all come from the author’s very fertile imagination and are not to be construed as real. No, I don’t believe in killing off main characters. Villains are a totally different story.

  HOW TO HACK A HACKER

  Unholy Trifecta Heist 3

  Copyright © 2020 by AJ Sherwood

  Cover by Katie Griffin

  Circle Tree vector logo this beautiful tree is a symbol of life, beauty, growth, strength, and good health by LintangDesign/Shutterstock; An illustration of virtual data by ESB Professional/Shutterstock; Background with polished, brushed gold surface by ReVelStockArt/ Shutterstock

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  Purchase only authorized editions.

  www.ajsherwood.com

  1

  Brannigan

  It wasn’t that the ringtone told him who was calling. It was more that only one person in the world would dare call him before he finished his coffee. Sighing, he pulled out his phone and looked at the call screen. ‘Unlisted.’ it read. It always did. It always traced back to a burner phone, too. His cyber stalker was thorough that way. Giving into the inevitable, he answered gruffly, “I haven’t had my morning coffee yet, so this better be good, K.”

  “Dude, don’t blame your grouchiness on the lack of coffee. Blame it on the supermodel you agreed to go on a date with tonight.” As per usual, the male voice on the other end was a strange mix of patience, smugness, and a hint of amusement, as if he were balancing on the border of laughing outright. “Which, by the way, was one of the stupider things you’ve done this month. You are so not into her. Why did you ask her out?”

  “Because she’s a beautiful woman?” Brannigan responded, already feeling his patience with this conversation evaporate. Six years he’d been getting these phone calls. Six years he’d received all sorts of little packages—usually thumb drives or encrypted emails he couldn’t trace back—each one containing information he needed. Either to give him a leg up in business or to help safeguard him from personal attack. He’d questioned it at first, of course, because who did that? Was this a scam? A trick of some sort? Bran wasn’t paying the hacker for his time and work, and he certainly didn’t know the man’s motivations. After six years, however, he’d seen the obvious: K the hacker wanted him safe and happy. Why, he didn’t know, but that much he was absolutely certain of.

  “Bran my man—hey, that rhymed!—let me tell you something about yourself since you seem to be clueless. Or at least, in denial. Supermodels are not your type. Pretty, shallow people are not your type. If you go on a date with this woman, you will be bored to tears within ten minutes and calling your bodyguard to fake an emergency in order to get away within an hour.”

  Brannigan rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. As he did so, his Head of Security, Gideon, came up and cocked his head, pointing to the phone in an elaborate ‘is that him’ gesture. Nodding sourly, Brannigan followed Gideon out of the front foyer and to his car. “Yeah? And what is my type, K?”

  “Intelligent, funny people who are sincere.”

  “Is that right? Then why don’t you come on a date with me?”

  “Awww,” the hacker crooned, completely amused now, his voice rich with laughter, “that would be sweet if I didn’t know you’d use it to catch me. I’d totally go on a date with you, you know. I even put out on the first date—at least for you.”

  “Can you blame me for trying?” Brannigan had learned to filter through the nonsensical things the other man said to keep the point of the conversation from being lost in some verbal black hole. “I’ve hired dozens of hackers over the years to catch you and have literally nothing to show for it.”

  “That is because I am Batman.”

  “You are not Batman. Sneaky, clever, and underhanded, is what you are.”

  “Also, may I point out the fundamental flaw in your logic? The very best hackers—of which I am one—do not answer ads. We don’t need to. Everyone who responded to your ad was thereby subpar by professional standards.”

  Brannigan let out a groan as he realized K was right. Damn him. Not that any of the men or women he’d hired were bad at their jobs, far from it, they just weren’t incredible. And it was incredible he needed, clearly, as he wasn’t any closer to catching K now than he had been six years ago.

  He slipped into the back seat of his town car, sliding against the black leather, setting his briefcase on the other side. Gideon slid into the driver’s seat, and the car purred as it pulled away from the curb. Brannigan ignored the sight of Boston hustling around him, everyone else on their way to work, and focused on his phone call. “You think you’re that good, then? That you’ll never get caught?”

  “Meh. I might, eventually. Everyone has someone that’s better than they are. I’m not an exception. But at the moment, I’m as safe as if I were on Mars. Tell me something, Bran, why are you still so hung up on catching me, anyway? After six years, haven’t I proven that I’m on your side? That I only have the best of intentions? I’m like a cyber friend you hang out with online, the cool one you can confess dark secrets to. I’m hurt you’re not warming up to me after all our time together, very hurt.”

  Bullshit. K still sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “It’s very hard to trust someone when I don’t know their name, face, motivations, or anything else about them. I swear you threw the letter K at me just so I’d have something to refer to you by. It’s not even attached to your real name.”

  “It’s actually scarily impressive how deductive you are. Hit me, Sherlock. Show off your skills.”

  Rolling his eyes, Brannigan decided to play along. Who knew, maybe he could squeeze a half clue out of K doing it. “You’re likely late twenties or early thirties. Male. Either bisexual or gay, likely gay. You’ve got a Mid-western accent, but it’s not pronounced. You moved a lot as a kid; your accent is bits and pieces from different regions, but I’d say your teenage years were spent in the Midwest.”

  “Daaaamn. You really are good. You got most of that right.”

  “You’re not going to tell me what I got wrong, are you?” Brannigan guessed dryly.

  “Now what would the fun be in that?”

  Brannigan resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. If he did it too often, it gave him a headache. He’d learned that the hard way from previous conversations with K. “You didn’t really call me to talk about my date tonight, did you?”

  “Only half the reason. Although you should seriously cance
l that. You’d thank me for it later.”

  “K, I’m literally five minutes—”

  “—away from the office, I know. It’s fine, I actually emailed you everything you need to know. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Someone’s trying to mess with your permits.”

  Brannigan groaned aloud. Permits were part and parcel of his business, and he was used to them. Used to the time it took to create plans a city council would approve of, the time it took for those plans to be approved, and all of the hassle of the paperwork involved. It was why any real estate project he started often took at least six months to get off the ground, as the scope of his projects were never simple.

  Needless to say, he didn’t like it when something went afoul with his permits. It always meant delays, and too many delays had a domino effect. “Mess with them how?”

  “I’m seeing bribes going into pockets right now. I think I can straighten this out on my end, but there might be a few delays. You just had to buy up Mob territory, didn’t you?”

  Brannigan went taut in his seat. “You think it’s the Irish Mob doing this?”

  “Meh. Maybe? Or someone has an agenda I don’t currently know about, and their own reasons. I’ve got some digging to do there.”

  Brannigan couldn’t very well pretend to be surprised. His attempt to turn the Irish Mob’s territory back into a legitimate neighborhood had always been rocky from the get-go. They hadn’t minded him tearing down old buildings and clearing some of the sketchier properties. It wasn’t until he’d put in loan offices and more street lights that tensions had gotten ugly. Right now, Brannigan was braced for a fight.

  Permits weren’t the fight he’d intended, but it was a Monday. He was due to start off the week rough. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I’ll tell you when I can figure it out.”

  “I know you will. I don’t suppose you can tell me why? We’ve been together six years, baby, throw me a bone.”

  “You’re terrible when you try to sweet-talk me. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

  “Makes two of us. Come on, K, one thing.”

  There was a beat of silence that stretched into two, an audible hesitation, then K slowly admitted, “It’s not because of you, actually. I owe your dad.”

  “My father?” Brannigan could not have been more surprised if a planet had been dropped on him. Then again, he shouldn’t be. His father had spent his entire life helping people. Well, that is, after he went legit. Brannigan had met more than a few of the recipients, and even though his father was retired, people still came out of the woodwork to try and return some previous favor. “What did he do for you?”

  “Saved my life. And I’m not telling you more than that, Sherlock. I probably said too much already. It’s just…” a gusty sigh, sounding more resigned than Brannigan had ever heard, “I have a bad feeling shit’s going to hit the fan soon. And when it does, I need you to trust me. I can’t have you questioning my motivations. At least, where you’re concerned, they’re pure as the driven snow.”

  Brannigan almost believed him. Almost. “So, you’re saying that if I offered to tap your ass, you’d pass?”

  “Hell no, are you crazy? You are one fiiiine specimen, Brannigan Genovese, and you know it. But I’m saying I’d have the best of intentions when you do me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Brannigan rolled his eyes before he could catch himself. He did know that he was good looking, that people found him attractive. Topping just over six foot, with a rangy build, curly dark hair, and hazel eyes, he could admit he wasn’t bad to look at. His father’s Italian heritage only helped as it kept his skin a nice warm olive complexion. But he was self-aware enough to know that it wasn’t his looks that drew people to him. It was his money. “Oh look, I’m at work.”

  “You are not. You’re stuck at a red light.”

  “You’re never going to tell me how you’re tracking me, are you? For that matter, how do you keep hacking my emails?”

  “Why do you keep asking these questions that will only give you heartburn?” K teased. “It’s fine, man, I’m not going to let anyone else hack you. I’ve got your back.”

  Brannigan almost told Gideon he needed an Irish coffee and to pull over at the nearest bar. “That actually wasn’t my worry, although thank you for throwing that one into the mix. I’m more worried about how you keep track of me. How many laws are you breaking, K?”

  “Dunno. Not a lawyer.”

  “That many, huh?” Shaking his head, Brannigan let it pass. It would only give him a headache if he pursued it. He knew that from past experience. “So if I ask my dad how many times he’s saved a man from the Midwest, now in his twenties, how many people would fit the bill?”

  “A lot,” K admitted cheerfully. “You know your dad better than I do. You knew that would be the answer.”

  Slumping a little in his seat, Brannigan said with a sigh of resignation, “Yeah. I did. Thanks for your hard work. What’s your account number, again?”

  “Hardy har har. Nice try, Genovese.”

  “I’d actually be perfectly willing to pay you for your work, you know. You’ve preempted all sorts of trouble for me. Surely you can set up some bank account with the Cayman Islands or the Swiss or whatever.”

  “You’re cute,” K responded in a tone that said the opposite. “Your money is no good here. Now, light’s green. Off you go.”

  The call abruptly ended.

  “K again, eh?” Gideon said from the front seat. Expression resigned, he twisted in his seat to look at Brannigan. “What is it this time?”

  “Someone being bribed and permit delays. He sent us an email about it.”

  “Oh hell.” Gideon made a face. “It sounds stupid on the surface, you know that, right? That we’d trust whatever K says to us.”

  Brannigan nodded sourly. He did understand that. More than one person had questioned him about it. But they’d learned the hard way not to ignore K. The man was never wrong.

  Gideon met his eyes through the rear-view mirror. “Let me ask you something, Boss. Do you realize that these days, you’re flirting with him?”

  Groaning, he rubbed his forehead. “Yes, I know. I somehow got sucked into his pace.”

  With a noncommittal hum, Gideon let that one go. The car smoothly sped up as Gideon rounded the last corner and entered the underground parking area. “Boss, I can tell you one thing. He’s right about you not going on that date tonight.”

  Wearily, Brannigan just stared at him. “Not you too. Let’s just focus on a possible issue with permits, alright?”

  2

  Kyou

  Kyou tossed the burner into his desk drawer, with all of the other burner phones, and gave himself a second. Damn, but Brannigan was sharper than he’d realized, and he gave the man plenty of credit already. He’d taken the Genovese fortune—respectable in its own right—and doubled it with the hotel business. He now had four different five-star hotels, and was dabbling in other real estate, and he ran the businesses well.

  When Kyou had first started hacking for Genovese Enterprises, his only real thought had been to return the favor to Mattias Genovese, Brannigan’s father. The man really had saved his life as a kid, and he owed it to him to look after his son. He’d naïvely assumed it would be easy, looking after a spoiled rich kid, but (un)fortunately Brannigan didn’t fall far from the tree. He was heavily involved in many causes to help people, and sometimes his projects made political enemies. This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to sneak in spies for a little corporate espionage.

  With all of the hotel safes and the goodies people left in them, thieves routinely tried to sneak in past security. Between Brannigan’s own people and Kyou, none of those thieves normally got past the front door. It was the really sneaky ones, like the trio that just got hired on, that Kyou had to watch out for. Those guys knew how to play the long game for a bigger payout.

  Sighing, he let his web crawlers do their thing and stood up, stretching his arms ove
r his head until he heard his joints pop. He’d been in front of the computer for fourteen hours this time, and if he didn’t move soon, he might just fuse to the chair. An hour on the treadmill, a hot shower, and something not pizza would revive him enough that he could continue for a little longer. Maybe a nap. He didn’t really want to sleep until he got to the bottom of things, but a nap was called for soon.

  He sauntered away from the corner where all of his computers and monitors were set up. Kyou had leased a rehabbed warehouse near the downtown sector of Boston two years ago, right after the team was formed. It was one of those open-floorplan affairs that looked impressive and modern. The exposed rafters, brick work, and polished cement floors kept things austere while the plush sofas and brightly colored pillows made it look homey. It still amused him to no end that Brannigan Genovese was technically his landlord, as he owned the whole block of apartments.

  If Brannigan ever did figure that out, he’d likely burst a blood vessel on the spot.

  Chuckling at the idea, Kyou headed for the treadmill. He had to get his blood pumping before he’d have the energy to do anything else. And maybe he’d find some way to sneak over and spy on the date tonight. A disaster like that one promised to be would be vastly entertaining, and he was just evil enough to enjoy watching a powerful man like Brannigan Genovese squirm.

  Because Kyou was evil, he got reservations for the same restaurant and time Brannigan had for his date. He even managed to get a table only four over. It was the first time in about two weeks he’d left the apartment, and it was a little strange to be out here with people. Boston wasn’t a quiet city in any respect, and it was honestly a bit too crowded and people-y for Kyou’s tastes. But it was where Brannigan did the majority of his business, and Kyou had settled here by default.

  Now, of course, everyone else was here as well. Aiden had landed a residency at a children’s hospital, so he was locked in for another two years and change. Ivan’s default was where his husband was. (And yes, having Ivan married—of all people—still threw Kyou for a mental loop.) Ari and Carter chose to stay nearby so that Remi could be around her family. Well, and so they could swing by and drag Kyou out of his lair. He’d gotten a reprieve the past two weeks because the two of them were out on a job.