The Hacker (The Bro Series Book 2) Read online

  Too bad those are answers I probably won’t find in a file.

  Too bad I can’t hit 1…

  All of a sudden, my phone begins to vibrate across the desk. I drag my attention from her to it and groan at my handler’s call.

  Yeah. I’ve got my own fucking nanny.

  “I need to take this,” I announce, reaching for it.

  “I should probably crash anyway. Early morning tomorrow.”

  Instead of answering my cell, I swivel in my chair to watch her exit, ass begging for me to follow. Just seconds before she crosses the threshold, I call out, “Wait.”

  Meena turns and lifts her eyebrows into the air.

  “If cookie dough isn’t your favorite ice cream, what is?”

  “Butter pecan.”

  “And I’m just supposed to believe you?”

  “Si.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve never given you reason not to.”

  “People lie Meena. All the time. It’s why using your digital traffic as a basis for my theory is relevant. What you frequently do is a habit. Habits define who we are.”

  “We can definitely agree on that,” she says in a cryptic tone. “But, you want proof you won’t find online? You want an outside source from your click caving? Ask Wyatt.”

  Unwarranted jealousy runs rapid like an unknown virus in my system. “What the fuck do you mean ask Wyatt? Why would he know?”

  Another pleased grin appears on her face. “Because he asked.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we had a conversation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wants to know more about me.”

  Instinctively, I glare.

  “Is that a crime?”

  Yes.

  No.

  Yes. Technically, in our circle it is. Going after what you know your best friend, someone you call a fucking brother, wants but can’t have is a crime. Lying to his face and telling him you don’t want the woman he does when you really do is a crime. It’s breaking trust we’ve spent years building. I don’t even like to entertain the idea Wyatt would just throw that away for a piece of pussy. Not with what he knows I’m capable of.

  Not with what secrets I’ve helped him hide.

  “Don’t worry,” Meena’s voice seductively comforts. “My body has no problem remembering who it belongs to even if there’s no digital trace to prove it.”

  Her reference to my loss of control from last night should bring shame not satisfaction.

  “Night, Holden…”

  I turn away before she can spot the growing bulge in my jeans that proves my cock is equally at her mercy. The phone stops vibrating, but I know Agent Murphy isn’t going to stop after one try. Even if I’ve never given him a reason to suspect I would skip out on my sentence, my history, digital and otherwise, would imply something else. Hm. Meena may be right to a certain extent…but so am I.

  My phone begins alerting me to his call and this time I promptly answer. “Reiss.”

  “Why didn’t you answer before?”

  “I answered now.”

  “Go ahead. Get cheeky with me. Maybe I’ll mention that in my report to Brewster in the morning, which is actually why I’m calling. There’s a briefing in the morning she is expecting you to be a part of. Apparently, your presence is crucial.”

  A displeased grumble leaps out of me. “I hate those meetings.”

  “No one cares.” Murphy’s callousness is expected.

  They don’t. The only thing that they care about is the number of walking nightmares I bring to them. Each with their own price tag. Some shave off days. Some shave of months. All prevent me from ending up behind bars. They take my place. Rightfully so. What I did to get in this position didn’t harm anyone besides the greedy university hell bent on contributing to the growth of debt in this fucking country. What I did exposed their flawed system. What I did… well it saved the very woman headed to sleep in the room next door.

  “Ten hundred.” The call ends and I toss the device to the side.

  Rarely does anything good come from these unexpected meetings with Special Agent Paige Brewster. She’s been on a Holden Reiss hostile takedown since she was brought in earlier this year. Her mission? Get me back behind bars where all criminals belong. My mission? Stay on her good side so I can raise my fucking kids like they deserve. Thankfully, she prefers putting away pedophiles as opposed to cooperating convicts. Her recent transfer to this task force has caused Murphy to tighten my leash. Before, I was allowed a couple moments of personal time. An afternoon off to take my kids to the zoo. A Friday night to drink a little less responsibly. A weekend away to celebrate my bros’ birthdays in peace. I had a few liberties and luxuries. Now? I can’t shit without my cell phone in reaching distance.

  While proving to Meena what I am capable of was entertaining, the rest of the evening is not. The so-called chatter I am supposed to be following leads to nothing but goldfish in a tiny bowl. Men with lives so textbook transparent the possession of kiddie porn charges will probably give them a stroke. These are the type that look and assume they’re doing nothing wrong. That no one is ‘hurt’. Like the children aren’t real. As much as they disgust me, they aren’t what I’m looking for. There are lower branches and individuals to reel them in and put them away. I’m looking for blowfish, the ones who swell when they’re cornered and their actions can become deadly. They’re the ones I can trail to bigger operations. They’re the ones I find relief in ripping to shreds what they consider iron clad covers.

  Around one a.m., just after finishing my routine trail around the areas of the dark web I lurk, I decide to call it a night. As I prepare to shut The Beast down, the business card Meena handed me earlier calls my attention. The small paper rectangle slides between my fingers again and I glare at the name.

  Allen Hoover

  I could dive into this.

  I could spend a little more time poking around.

  I could exert a bit more energy into seeing just what type of monster is sniffing around her baby sister.

  My body slumps down into the chair and I tap the card against the desk.

  No. What I did was enough. I proved her parents were right. It seemed to be enough for her, I need to let it be enough for me.

  I cut the wall we share a glance. On this side, there’s nothing more than a trashcan against it, but on hers? It’s the headboard. It’s where she’s sleeping.

  Dreaming.

  Temptation to peak in on the sight begins to flow towards the front of my mind. Curiosity wastes no time becoming a curse as I wonder if she sleeps in a t-shirt or just panties. Maybe she sleeps naked. The image of her caramel skin sprawled out in the freshly changed white sheets swells my dick.

  I can’t go in there.

  I can’t.

  I shouldn’t.

  Desire to hear her moan again grabs me unforgivingly by the throat.

  What if I never set foot in the room? What if this time I just use clicks instead of touches?

  Logic loses to the battle of longing and my skills expose to me the darkness of her room from the view of her cellphone’s camera. From the shitty angle, I suspect it’s on her nightstand and the faint sound of the television laughter informs me she has a fondness for sitcoms.

  My disappointment is deserved. There’s no fucking reason I should be rewarded for invading the small amount of privacy she is expecting to maintain. That she is entitled.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I just let her go? Why can’t I just turn off the part of my brain that craves her chaos? Why can’t I steadily hit the fucking 0.

  I did it before.

  I should be able to do it again.

  I prepare to cut the connection when suddenly there’s a faint noise I swear I recognize. A fucked up combination of hope and desperation have my fingers pounding at the keyboard, enhancing and cleaning up the sound until it’s crisply revealed.

  “Holden…” Meena whimpers w
ith a heavy breath.

  “Fuck me...” I mindlessly mumble in return while dropping my hand to my dick. It thumps against my touch begging for mercy, begging for a mere moment of opportunity to breathe outside the constraints of my jeans.

  Absolutely not. It’s already fucked up I’m listening to her get off. I’m not going to make this situation worse by jerking off like an adolescent with a hot girl unknowingly stripping in front of his bedroom window from across the street. At least in that scenario I would be somewhat innocent. Not blatantly breaking the law to hear her come.

  And I’m going to hear her fucking come….

  “Harder,” she pleads, her panting increasing, but volume the same. “Si…Harder Holden.”

  One hand tries to stifle the growl while the other applies more pressure to the appendage that’s now in pain.

  “Please…”

  Does she fucking know I’m listening?

  Does she fucking suspect?

  After all the tricks and truths I showed her, she’d have to be completely stupid not to. Which she isn’t. I wouldn’t have hired her if I thought she was.

  Now or then.

  The continuous chanting of my name bashes against rationale until I can no longer resist. In one swift execution, my jeans are parted and my cock is my grasp through the hole in my boxers.

  My low groan greets the moan pouring out of the speaker system.

  “Holden,” Meena cries out quietly as if somehow aware I’ve joined her in the pursuit of coming.

  I don’t bother drawing out my actions with long strokes or over exaggerated pulls. I grip my cock tight and viciously begin jerking like I’m not sure if I should give it pleasure or punishment.

  She moans once more and my eyes fall shut, mind envisioning her fingers nestled deeply in her pussy like mine were just yesterday. Envy builds at the base of my dick. It should be me between her legs. It should be me making her beg for more. Not thoughts of me.

  The pumping becomes more ferocious as her panting seems to reach its pinnacle. There’s a sharp gasp followed promptly by a chorus of muffled cries. My name falling so rapidly from her lips rips an orgasm from me without remorse. I bite down harshly on my own lip and succumb to the high of the situation. Burning blast after blast blankets my furiously moving hand yet I don’t stop.

  I won’t stop.

  I can’t stop.

  Meena’s mewls finally begin to subside, bringing me back to reality.

  Back to the mistake.

  Back to the trust I just shattered.

  My untainted handed quickly closes down everything, but it doesn’t matter. It’s already too late. I’ve already made her an unknowing victim to my depravity. I’ve already fed the demon inside of me I keep chained up. First the car incident. Now this? How many more lines am I gonna cross? How many more risks am I gonna take? How many more times am I going to press 1 instead of 0? And why the fuck am I more excited by the pending perils than terrified?

  Impressive that after just one evening of watching Holden work, I felt like the theme song for my life should be Rockwell’s song ‘Somebody’s Watching Me’. His completely callous raid of my personal history was horrifying yet reassuring. On one hand, he exposed the lie that privacy exists, yet on the other he gave me a peek into the power he would exude if necessary to protect someone who matters to him. He may never love me, but I’ll never second guess he at least cares. His momentary flare of jealousy when I mentioned having a conversation with Wyatt proved that much.

  The coffee machine screeches its finale, but my attention doesn’t waiver from the vision descending the stairs.

  In jeans and a t-shirt, Holden looks like a day dream. In a suit? He looks like the basis for every fantasy I’ve ever had. His frame while slightly larger than it was when we met freshman year is still the ideal build to me. Not so large I feel dwarfed in comparison, but not so small I feel like I will break his ribs while riding him. Which I will be doing. Eventually. It’s just a matter of time. I lost out the first time to…better competition. However, I won’t lose again. I didn’t take this job with the intention of getting something I wanted for years, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy that added bonus.

  Holden enters the open area at the same time he adjusts his black tie. I suppress the moan the simple action generated and press my jean covered thighs tighter together. Thoughts of being bound by the object slowly parade around my mind flushing my face as well as hitching my breath.

  His green eyes look up just in time to catch the change in expression. Holden’s gaze instantly turns predatory, leaving me paralyzed not by fear, but anticipation.

  Unfortunately, he pushes it away, and approaches with a more professional demeanor. “Good morning.”

  I shift to the side to allow him access to the freshly brewed liquid sanity. “Buenos días.”

  He reaches for one of the coffee mugs dangling on display. “Sleep well?”

  “Fairly.”

  “You didn’t have any issues?”

  “Not that I can recall.” The question sits uncomfortably. “Why?”

  Holden shrugs. “Most people face a bit of anxiety when sleeping somewhere new for the first time.”

  His concern seems genuine yet deflective. “You get over that pretty quickly when you move around as frequently as I do.”

  “I’m sure masturbating helps,” he snidely remarks, eyes plastered on the coffee he is pouring into his cup. “However, if you insist on doing that while living here, please be respectful of your volume.”

  “¿Perdón?”

  “Volume,” Holden repeats as our eyes connect. After a short beat, he states, “I understand. We all have…” his attention momentarily drops to my lips, before continuing, “needs. But there are two children in this house. I expect you to be mindful of that. The last thing I want is to fire you over something that could’ve easily been avoided.”

  Calm, controlled arrogance. Glad some things never change.

  “Funny thing,” I fold my arms across my chest, “I was ‘mindful’ of my environment last night. It’s why I had the door locked, the television turned up, and my face pressed firmly into my pillow.”

  His body noticeably tenses.

  “Which means if you heard me, it was because you were trying to.”

  Holden looks back down at his steaming coffee.

  Despite his attempt to avoid eye contact with me, I shift my face back into his view. “Were you spying on me?”

  Guilt grows rapidly on his face. He diverts his stare out the kitchen window in front of him.

  The violation should shake me with outrage yet I can’t help but smile instead. He wanted me again. He wanted me so bad he couldn’t resist doing the wrong thing to feel the right one. I have a hold on him just like he has on me and I plan to keep it for as long as possible. I plan to enjoy it because the day will come when I have to let go again and I want a better parting present than a ‘good reference’.

  I tug Holden by the tie so our eyes lock again. “Next time? Just knock. That way you can see and hear me.”

  He swallows hard and a low growl festers louder than I’m sure he intended.

  “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?!” Lynk shouts from the top of the stairs immediately dividing us.

  I reply with a smile. “Buenos días, Lynk.”

  Holden’s anger arises and falls to me. “You didn’t wake my son up!?”

  My arms press firmly against my chest once more. “No.”

  “What the hell do you mean no?”

  “I mean no. When I say no that’s exactly what it means. No hidden fine print.”

  The frustration I love seeing flutter does so again. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “And I’m not laughing.”

  His low gnarl is aggressive. “What the hell is wrong with you, Meena?”

  “Nothing. I’m not the one who will have to bust their butt to make it on time for school.”

  “It’s your job to wake him up!”
r />   “No,” I quickly correct with a shake of my head. “That’s his job.”

  His mouth drops to continue to argue.

  “He’s almost ten. He’s more than capable of setting an alarm to make sure he’s up for school.”

  Both of their mouths remain agape.

  Ignoring Holden, I state to Lynk, “I also gave you fair warning before bed last night, you needed to set an alarm.”