Dirty Tycoons: King of Code-Prince Charming-White Knight

by Reiss, CD

  I pushed her down. “On your back.”

  The best part of sex is the moment a girl’s legs open the first time. It’s hot when she’s naked and her tits are at full attention. But that moment, when a girl shows me where she’s most vulnerable…

  She lay before me with one hand over her belly and her ankles crossed. I was at her feet, returning her stare.

  “How am I doing?” she asked.

  “Great.” A little pressure on her thighs and her legs opened like a flower.

  “So what I was just telling you?” she said.

  Her clit was hard and wet, and when I touched it, she stopped talking.

  “About you being socially awkward?”

  “Yes, I—”

  When I slid my finger in her, two things happened at once.

  One: she came.

  Two: a ring tightened around my knuckle.

  I moved with her and yanked out as she was in mid-arch. It was cruel, but I was shocked out of the moment.

  She was left in a puddle of skin, breathing heavily, and I knew she was wondering if that was how it was supposed to go.

  “You didn’t tell me,” I growled harder than I should have.

  “I was about to!” Her hair looped all over her face.

  “You have to tell a guy before you even get your clothes off.”

  She scrambled onto her knees and put her fists on her naked hips. “Well, that’s a rule you don’t get a second chance at.”

  “How are you a virgin?”

  “I just told you how.”

  “Between Mrs. Prescott and MIT, you couldn’t get laid?”

  Naked and shameless, hands still on her hips. “Have you noticed everyone steers wide of me and my sister?”

  The guys had tried to get me to admit I was fucking her, and when I hadn’t, they’d seemed good with it. Better than good. Kyle had seemed relieved.

  “You got cooties or something?” I asked.

  “My father’s dying wish was for them to ‘protect’ us. Me especially. Fact that it was years ago hasn’t changed anything.”

  “Protect you from what?”

  “Getting hurt. Casual sex. Pregnancy. We’re like prize cows. Damon’s been trying to get in my pants since high school. Johnny broke his finger in sophomore year because he caught us behind the grocery store. That was that.” She slapped her hands together.

  “Every guy at MIT wasn’t trying to get you into bed?” I buttoned up. Fun times were over.

  “They could try. Sure. But I—” She stopped herself and balled her fists at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I just had my finger in you. We’re past ‘nothing.’”

  She got off the bed and snatched up her pants, finding the waistband. She put them on without the underwear.

  “None of them were like me. Bunch of guys who could barely talk to a woman, and when they did, I felt like a redneck piece of trash.” She fastened her fly as if she could just as easily have ripped it to shreds. “And stupid me. There was this one guy who was the worst of them.” She isolated the collar of her shirt, stretching it as if she was going to put it on. “On the first day, he stood next to me in line in the Forbes Building. One of his friends got in front of me, and I was too timid to say anything. But this guy called his friend a fucking jerkoff and told him to get in line…” She wrestled into the shirt. “No one else talked like my people here, but he did. I saw him around and tried to be near him, but he didn’t notice.” She interrupted buttoning the front to snap her fingers. “Then I had to come home.”

  “Honestly? Can I say something honestly without you destroying my life?”

  “Sure. Why not.”

  “If I’d noticed you, I would have fucked the shit out of you.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “And if you were in SanJo when I staffed… I might have hired you. But the ‘wanting to fuck you’ thing would have been a problem.”

  Her jaw tightened, and her face hardened as if she didn’t believe me.

  “That’s not comforting,” she said.

  “I didn’t say it to comfort you.”

  “You need to fix that, Taylor. You need to grow up and stop letting your dick run the show. It’s pathetic.”

  I’d been told that before, but her disgust sent the message right into me. I was ashamed. Deeply ashamed. I carried my cock as if it was the president of the company, and I didn’t make any excuses for it, but now I wanted to curl into a ball and think about all the decisions I’d made because of where I wanted to stick it.

  I’d thought I was making sure the workplace was appropriate, but what I’d done was make it safe for the impulses of the least appropriate person. Me.

  And… Raven. Of course I’d made sure there was one consenting partner in the office just for me.

  Nice leadership. Real nice. I didn’t blame Harper for being disgusted.

  “Yeah. Well. I guess, when you put it that way, you’re right.”

  Her mouth got narrow and tight, folding hard in the center crease. She opened the night table and took out a pen, biting the cap off as she came toward me.

  I let her take my hand and twist it until my forearm was up. She wrote a string of numbers on it while clamping her teeth on the cap. Four digits in, I knew what it was and tried to stay still and quiet until she finished.

  4920616d20736f20736f7272792c2062757

  42074686973206973206e6f74206f7665722e

  “Thank you.” I felt ridiculous for thanking her.

  She must have felt the absurdity too. She put the cap back on and pulled out her phone.

  “I have to go to work,” she said, tapping on the glass. “Keep your nose clean.” She tossed the device on the bed faceup. The contact was QI4HQ, and it was ringing.

  “You had me on speed dial?”

  She walked out without answering.

  XXVII

  I was shaking as I read off the last letter to Deepak.

  “Got it.” He read it back to me.

  “Close the Faraday cage before you put it in. And assume we’re being monitored.”

  He dropped his voice. His breath had the cadence of a man walking quickly. “Someone’s here. He’s taller than I thought he’d be. He knows where my mother lives… in Rangpur, for fuck’s sake.”

  That was Keaton. Six-four and as imposing as an all-knowing monolith.

  I wasn’t surprised my shadow investor had shown up, but I was alarmed. I’d assumed I’d be there to fend him off when the time came. Deepak didn’t have the tools or testosterone to keep Keaton away. “Stall him.”

  “Easy for you to say. Where did you find this guy?”

  “Tor, where else?” I lied.

  “Great. Fucking great.” He paused. I felt everything he wanted to say because I knew him.

  “He’s not scary,” I said.

  Deepak grunted.

  It was my responsibility to say what needed saying with the knowledge that Harper might be listening. I had to take what I knew about her and decide what she cared about. “He’s putting on an accent to scare you. Did he mention MI6?”

  “In passing.”

  “He’s not British Intelligence.” I couldn’t leave it there. Deepak and I didn’t lie to each other. Not outright, though I’d omitted plenty. “Not officially, but…”

  But what?

  It was a bad time for omissions. And what scared Deepak might also scare Harper. Not a bad thing.

  “He knows people,” I added. “He’s done… work.”

  “Work?”

  “Work. Just…look, that’s Alpha Wolf, okay?”

  “OhGodohGod. Taylor, what did you get me into?”

  Before I could devise a smart answer that would both soothe Deepak and scare Harper, the voice on the other end got deeper, with an English accent sharpened for maximum impact.

  “Beeze Taylor, my little protégé. You’re calling from a well-cloaked number.”

  “Apparently.”
>
  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  I sat on the floor with my heels angled against the wood. “Weather’s great where I am.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the United States. I’m not running away with your money. You know that, right?”

  “You’re too much of a pussy to steal from me. It’s your incompetence that surprises me.”

  “Let’s skip the niceties, okay? I’m going to fix this. We’re going to be ready for GreyHatC0n. Period.”

  “Your sidekick’s typing something into what appears to be the only working machine in this useless little cage you have here. Could it be a hexadecimal string? How quaint.”

  Keaton was never the positive and supportive type, but he stood by me when things got rough and was loyal to a fault.

  “It’s up!” Deepak cried from somewhere close. “It’s booting!”

  A cheer went up from the guys.

  I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until the anxiety dropped off me like a coat. It was over.

  What was I going to do about Harper?

  The question wasn’t a new source of anxiety but a new source of possibility. My thoughts were unfiltered, unguarded. The walls between the compartments of my life fell away, and the impossible bled into the possible.

  Take her with.

  Stay here

  Long-distance relationship

  Hire her

  Make her fucking president

  New division

  No sex

  I’m the boss

  Just business

  All sex

  Find her something with a friend

  Do not let this girl out of your sight

  You can have her

  You win

  You lose.

  I could parse it all. Figure it out. Make a decision.

  But from the other side of the phone, Deepak shouted. “Fuck!”

  “Oh, dear.” Keaton sounded bemused, which I’d learned was a way to keep from getting angry.

  I’d seen Keaton angry only once, when he’d found out the FBI flipped me on the credit card hack. I hadn’t turned on him, but he’d lost an opportunity. It wasn’t pretty.

  “What’s happening?” My unguarded moment was frozen into a minute.

  In the background, Deepak was shouting fuck over and over at a machine-gun tempo.

  The phone dinged in my ear. A message.

  “Take a look,” Keaton said. “And let’s be clear—I’m not leaving until I’ve protected my investment. And you. Even if it hurts.”

  The phone went quiet. No Deepak. No white noise from the guys in the cage. Harper’s phone received the photo. It was a picture of the cage’s big screen. Black but for five words at the bottom.

  Enter decryption key to boot:

  She’d said she’d give it back in four sections. I should have believed her.

  I didn’t know how long I sat there with my head between my knees, trying not to cry like a little bitch.

  XXVIII

  The next morning, it was my father’s voice that got me off the floor. In my head, clear as day, he told me to stop feeling sorry for myself. No problem ever fixed itself, and this one wasn’t any different.

  I had her phone in my hands. What more did I need?

  Trying to use the same hack I’d used on the Barrington guys, I came up against a solid security protocol. She’d walled off everything so she could make the call for me. I couldn’t see what she had on there. I couldn’t even see her phone book. I tried to get past it but wound up frustrated.

  “Fuck this.” I tossed the phone on the bed and got in the shower.

  Harper had unlocked the QI4 boot loader. I didn’t know what else I’d expected. The agreement was bigger than what we’d done. Teach her how to please a man, not stick a finger in her and make her come in three seconds.

  The water wasn’t hot enough. I turned the knob. I needed to burn this shit right out of me. Man up. She wanted to fuck. What was the problem? Why even hesitate? I’d used and been used by women since I was in my teens. I’d made deals and exchanged favors. Sure, I’d felt as if I had more power in those transactions, but so what? Harper and I were just another negotiation. This didn’t have to be any different.

  Which meant what? Three more turns in the bedroom? I could do that. Bang it out by tomorrow. So to speak.

  I put on my jacket, brushed my hair, and got myself looking like a sore thumb in this shithole. But I was as far away from crying like a bitch as I’d ever been.

  From the top of the stairs, I heard Catherine in the dining room, chatting with other women. Maybe the same crowd as had made dinner the night before. I didn’t hear Harper’s voice. I backed up and stood at the foot of the stairs to the third floor. The door was closed. I went up and pressed my ear to the wood. Nothing on the other side. Not a keystroke or a breath.

  So.

  A choice.

  Was I Taylor or Beezleboy?

  * * *

  I’d been enrolled in Poly for about a week when I realized I didn’t fit in. Cliques had already been established, and rich kids were thick with them. Not every parent wanted every kid in their mansion, and not every kid wanted every other kid ogling their seven-hundred-dollar shoes.

  I’d thought we were rich. But guess not.

  Keeping my nose clean wasn’t that hard. At that age, I couldn’t get far enough away to see the pattern of class and cruelty. I was back to being a lonely kid, far away from my friends and my neighborhood. Out of my depth and out of my league. My dad told me to buck up, and my mother wouldn’t get out of bed. She just cried on the days she didn’t have the energy to fix everything.

  I was sitting alone in the cafeteria when Keaton found me. He was two years older, but since I’d skipped third grade, he was only one year ahead in school. In maturity, he was at least decade older.

  “You’re in my JavaScript class.” He shoveled down a plate full of string beans. He was the first vegetarian I’d ever met.

  “Yeah. I like it.” I’d been pushed ahead in math and science and was borderline remedial in reading.

  “It’s shit.”

  “But it’s easy.”

  “You want to learn some real stuff, you come to my house on Saturday.” He pushed a card across the table. Name. Number. Address on my side of town.

  “I’ll ask my mom.”

  He snorted. Didn’t say another word to me for the rest of the meal.

  XXIX

  Hacking is about technology, coding, and knowing people. It’s also about the mechanics of the world. Keaton taught me that with few words, and I lived it. I knew how a toilet worked. The physics of chairs. How to make moonshine and beer. The world became one giant hack, full of things that needed to be understood so they could be broken to my advantage.

  Once her phone went to sleep, I couldn’t reopen it. It was locked tight. Unlike Damon and the guys, she knew how to protect her device from attack.

  But she wasn’t around, and her system was just up a little flight of stairs.

  There’s not much to picking a lock once you get the feel for it. There had been an awl in the Barrington shed toolbox, and I had a tie clip I didn’t care about, so I bent it open. After listening for movement and hearing nothing, I was in Harper’s office in three minutes.

  I closed the door behind me. The stairs wouldn’t creak, but her windows faced the front of the house. I’d see her shitty Chevy coming up the driveway.

  Tapping the spacebar did nothing. She’d shut her system down when she wasn’t at it. Good girl.

  I hit the power button. The floppy disk drive (yes, the floppy drive) croaked to life, and the fan spun. While it booted, I opened her drawers.

  Hackers distrust computers for good reason. We’re big fans of pencil and paper with their eternal compatibility and geographical security. Harper was no different. Her desk drawer was full of scraps of paper, analog office supplies, and wooden pencils. A girl after my own heart.

  Tha
t being the case, I ignored what was inside the drawer in favor of what was hiding under it.

  I pulled the drawer all the way out and felt along the bottom panel. Flat wood all the way to the back…until I came to a ridge. Something stuck in the seam between the bottom and back panels. I flicked it with my fingernail, felt it give a little, then got under it and slid out a little green notebook.

  Sitting at her desk chair, I flipped through. Calculations and drawings for a tiny circuit I recognized as the poison pill she’d left in the monitor at QI4. Seeing the drawings, how she did it with a soldering iron and a cut board from a cheap cellphone, I started to sweat. My face got hot. Was it anger or embarrassment? Was it the fact that she’d done what anyone could have?

  No.

  This was special.

  She’s special.

  And she did you a favor.

  The pain in my chest should have decreased when I saw the details, but it got worse. The simplicity and scale of the design couldn’t have been reverse engineered, and I had to give her credit. With very little to go on, she’d cracked open what I’d sealed tight.

  What the notes didn’t tell me was how she’d gotten into the monitors or how she’d gotten a signal past the Faraday cage. It didn’t tell me where she’d hidden the transmitter that went into and out of the cage often enough to move pieces of data.

  Most importantly, it didn’t tell me why learning how to fuck like a pro was on her virgin radar.

  I brushed my hand under my nose and smelled only soap. I’d washed the sweet scent of her off my fingers.

  Taylor Brian Harden

  023-56-1029 5/29/88

  Camden, New Jersey.

  Cooper’s Poynt El. Grad ‘01.

  Poly Preparatory HS. ‘05 MIT ‘05-‘08

  M-Julie Kips 078-11-1876

  F-David Harden 173-63-1850

  Mar 07/12/85, St Paul Episc.

  923 N. Jordan Rd. 08103 856-365-2289

  Ella Susan Harden 09/05/91

  Cooper’s Poynt El. Grad ‘05. Camden HS. ‘09

  Rutgers MBA Bus Admin ‘13

  084-55-6570 Mar. Quentin Mitchell