The Hacker (The Bro Series Book 2) Page 6

  “This was a warning.” I stand, the space between us almost nonexistent. “Do not call again during non-crucial work hours and interrogate me. I may not be entitled to much of a life, but I am allowed time with them. Now, move out of my way, before the next memo that makes it around contains information on how you caught the STD and why Greenburg should really be concerned with his wife’s recent ‘cold’.”

  Murphy’s chocolate eyes glare, but he steps out of my way.

  Never fuck with someone who can destroy your life without really trying.

  Always hit the zero when the option makes itself visible.

  I adjust my shoulder bag, name badge, and head for the main lobby.

  Freedom? Actual freedom? The kind that would allow me to take my kids to fucking Disney or camping up north in the woods? The kind that I wouldn’t have to rush away from the dinner table because some pedophile was making moves online and they wanted to see if I could track it. The kind where I would feel less like a bystander in their lives whose main job is to make sure they survive each round of hiring and firing of a nanny?

  The doors ding granting me access to the empty elevator.

  Once the doors shut with me inside, I shake my head.

  She was bluffing. That was just some poor fucking motivational tactic to encourage me to get her better results. She just wants her work horses to pull heavier weight. I already do enough. I already provide them with plenty. And while I am grateful as shit it keeps me out of prison and lets me spend time with my kids, they are actively making the latter more and more difficult. My kids need me around. I’m the only parent they have left.

  The drive to the house my best friend, Nate, is renting with his girlfriend thankfully isn’t far from the field office. Most of the time now, I see each of my bros once a week unless they’re traveling. While the four of us used to be inseparable having to grow up against our wishes has had quite the effect on that. Sometimes I miss the old days. The wild parties. The late hours. The cops I controlled. Beth…

  Parts of Beth, anyway.

  I let myself into the one-story house and announce, “Bro, I’m here.”

  Not getting an immediate answer, I invite myself in and make my way towards the living room.

  This is what real family is like or at least the family I cultivated with Pax, Wyatt, and Nate. We all have keys to each other’s places. We come and go as we please. We cross boundaries that disgust most people, but that’s just the type of brotherhood we are. When we all rushed the same frat back in college only to decide shortly after to basically start our own instead of falling victim to their idiotic customs, we agreed on a bullshit free bond. One that never had to answer to the norms of society. One that couldn’t be severed by pussy or the joke of a judicial system. We answer to one another and we protect one another, even in the least ideal situations possible. How we execute this varies of course. And my skillset gets the most constant amount of scowls…right until secrets that should never see the light of day need burying.

  Just as I prepare to shout again, Nate comes stumbling out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and huge grin.

  I smirk, shake my head, and start to move my lips when his young girlfriend comes giggling out.

  She pushes her dark wavy hair behind her ear. “Hey, Holden…”

  “Hey, Ainsley.”

  “I was just…headed to class.”

  Leaning against the edge of their black leather couch, I lightly laugh. “One where you’re not sleeping with the professor, right?”

  Nate growls at the poke I take about their relationship’s origin, but she playfully snickers. “You know there’s only one Teach for me.”

  The pet nickname wipes away the glower on my best friend’s face seconds before she places a kiss on his lips. What was obviously intended to be a chaste kiss is quickly corrected with Nate cupping her ass to hold her in place while his tongue loses control.

  She’s good for him. After an incident in college he became almost isolated. We kept waiting for him to bounce back, shake it off, remember we were all there for him and how it was okay to be the bro we all loved, but it never happened. Then somehow, someway, Ainsley slithered under his skin and shook free the man we all missed. I’m grateful. We all are. But, I’m also a little jealous. My chance at life with something more than a one nightstand was laid to rest years ago.

  When he finally lets her go, her mocha face is flushed and she’s obviously breathless. With pride in his voice, he states, “Have a great day, Kid.”

  Ainsley smirks wide and saunters her way towards the front door.

  After we hear it shut, I say, “All good?”

  “Perfect,” he sighs, dropping down onto the love seat closest to him. “She loves everything about Ashwin. I love everything about my job. And this house…Well, let’s just say we might end up buying it.”

  “Wouldn’t be difficult. You wouldn’t have much trouble getting a bank’s approval.”

  “Thanks?”

  “Unless you and Ainsley are trying to do it together. There’ll be a push back because of that. This is the first time she’s had more than like a 100 dollars in her bank account for a sustained period of time. Plus, she doesn’t exactly have credit yet.”

  “Why did you-”

  “Then again, since the owner has a huge online gambling problem, you could probably get a good deal.”

  Great deal if I not so casually send an anonymous message to one of his bookies about the assets he’s trying to keep hidden from them.

  “You know, he really should stop hitting on 16. He could probably save himself some cash.”

  “Finding this place for us to rent was enough, Holden. You don’t need to do anything else…”

  “I rarely need to do anything else,” I cockily retort.

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “You want a beer?”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  Nate’s crystal blue eyes narrow with suspicion. “Are you really?”

  His question lifts my brow.

  “Because Wyatt mentioned you might have another nanny problem.”

  “Swear, if his mouth gets any fucking bigger, King Kong’s dick will be able to fit in it.”

  He laughs a little louder and leans forward onto his elbows. “So, you do have a problem.”

  No.

  1.

  “What did Wyatt say?”

  “Why?” his voice grows more curious. “What did you want him to not say?”

  The line of questioning forces me to adjust my tie.

  I fucking hate ties. Seems like the only times I wear them are when my freedom is on the line.

  There’s mirth in his obnoxiously young expression that makes me gag. He turned thirty earlier this year and still looks like he should be fucking carded for walking into a liquor store. How’d he get good genetics and the love of his life? I’ve seen pictures of his father from his younger years. At least that one makes sense. Love…Well that’s never fucking easy to calculate.

  “Did you fuck up, Holden?”

  Yes.

  My lack of response pushes him to continue. “What’d you do? Read what she was sexting her boyfriend while she was supposed to be watching your kids then rip her apart for it?”

  If Meena had a boyfriend to be sexting I wouldn’t have a problem or at least…I don’t think I would.

  Fuck, I know that’s a zero.

  “Find out she was secretly a stripper?”

  There’s no such thing as secretly being a stripper. When it comes to being in my life, let alone my children’s, there’s no such thing as secrets period. And she’s never gone through that sort of phase. Even her provocative outfits pale in comparison to the shit her siblings have worn over the years, especially Mia. I get it. She shouldn’t be afraid of showcasing her body, but she couldn’t have put a price tag on it either.

  “Did you find topless photos of her on the internet from a crazy Spring Break weekend?”

  Not su
re if the line of interrogation is irking me because it implies I only higher idiotic, juvenile women to watch my children or because it insinuates I’m sort of fucking uptight asshole, I snap, “I finger fucked her the first night.”

  His eyes widen and I instantly regret opening my mouth. “What!”

  I tug at my tie again. “It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  No matter how much I want it to.

  No matter how much she wants it to.

  No matter how easy it would be to just press 1….

  “Whoa. Whoa. Back up,” he quickly commands. “Start at the beginning. Where’d you find this girl?”

  “Woman,” I chomp. “She used to watch Lynk back in the day when we were partying at The Row. She was always the first babysitter I would call if we needed one. For anything, really.”

  Nate nods his understanding. “And since you’ve hired then fired every available woman in the city you decided it would be best to start the process all over?”

  His sarcastic comment receives my middle finger.

  “I’m not exaggerating, bro. Ever since Beth died you’ve had a revolving door of women to watch them.”

  “No one’s ever been good enough.”

  “Is anyone ever going to be?”

  My hands slides up to the tie that’s beginning to feel more like a noose.

  “How’d you get in contact with her?”

  “Randomly.”

  “Holden Reiss doesn’t do random,” he states matter of factly. “He does calculated.”

  It’s really the best for everyone.

  “We ran into each other at Lynk’s soccer game. One of her nephews was on the opposing team. She had only been back in town a week and this was the first chance she had to see him play. We started talking on the sideline and before that part of my brain could get to work, I was offering her the job.”

  “Without looking at her resume?”

  I shake my head.

  “Without checking her references and their twice removed uncles?”

  Fucking dramatic, just like Wyatt.

  “You just…went with a feeling?”

  Dread drags itself down my neck. “And that’s exactly the fucking problem. I can’t make commitments based on that bullshit. Just like I can’t let my dick make decisions for me anymore. My life’s not about me, bro. It’s about Lynk. It’s about Sage. Doing what’s best for them and giving them the life I never had.”

  “Shouldn’t that include a father who isn’t fucking miserable?”

  My lips press together to prevent responding.

  “Look, Holden, I get it. Your world, your life, are those kids. We all know there’s nothing you wouldn’t fucking do for them, just like we know there’s nothing you wouldn’t fucking do for us. But what about doing something for you? What about doing something that makes you fucking happy? Shouldn’t that factor in? Shouldn’t you want your kids to see their father not only loves them but is capable of loving another person?”

  “I loved their mother,” I bite harshly. “Don’t you fucking sit there and make it seem like I didn’t.”

  Nate’s hands fly up in surrender. “No one is doubting you loved Beth, bro. All I’m saying is maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if your kids saw you move forward?”

  I let my eyes fall to the floor space in front of me.

  “Maybe it’s not the best idea to do that with the nanny, but maybe it’s not the worst.” When my eyes lift to meet his, he shrugs. “What’s the harm in finding out?”

  Destroying what is probably the most incredible shot my children will ever have at stability with a nanny, because I suddenly can’t say no to my cock. It’s not that I don’t see his point. It’s not that part of me doesn’t agree, particularly the part of me that wants to spend hours sandwiched between her thighs. It’s that sacrifices have to be made to assure they don’t end up trapped in the foster care system because I lost focus.

  Because I failed them.

  I already have the weight of enough regrets resting on my shoulders. I can’t risk taking on more.

  “No daddy!” Sage giggles and tries to remove the silver spoon hanging from Holden’s nose. “That’s not where spoons go!”

  I lean back into the corner of the chocolate brown couch with a wide grin.

  This has become a regular part of our routine over the past few weeks. Sage and I will do some sort of learning activity while her brother should be working on his homework, have a snack and then start to play together, which is when Holden joins in. Sometimes he’s just coming in from wherever it is he has spent the day, other times, like this, he’s just waking up. He often works all night and into the early morning, only crashing after the kids have gone to school. He gets anxious to be the one to drop them off, but by the time they’re dressed and ready, his eyes are usually struggling to stay awake. I’ve had to convince him to let me do it every morning not only as a part of their routine, but his. I didn’t think he’d be as stubborn about the adjustment period as his son is. The two of them are the most excellent example of the old saying ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’. Except in this case, both apples are a bit rotten and won’t let anyone give them the love they need.

  Holden keeps the balancing act of the utensil going, this time moving it to his ear. “Here? Does it go here?”

  “No Daddy! It goes in your hand...” Sage giggles and again reaching for the spoon. “Tu mano.”

  At the same time she removes the spoon he furrows his eyebrows. “Apple? It goes in my apple?”

  Sage shakes her head while sweetly correcting. “Mano means hand. Manzana is apple.”

  A wave of pride washes over me.

  Younger children have an easier time learning an additional language even if it’s just vocab. They typically don’t possess the conscious and unconscious resistance older adolescents do.

  “You’re learning Spanish,” Holden sighs warmly.

  “Si!”

  “Yes, I do see.”

  Sage and I snicker together, but he gives me a wink to let me know he’s joking around.

  His playful nature is almost as intoxicating as his dominating one. The way he lets his guard down and connects to them as actual people rather than hard drives to fill up is beautiful. With Sage it seems his only mission is to make her laugh. I’ve noticed she laughs hardest when she’s being tickled or he’s doing his pathetic imitation of Batman. He sounds more like William Shatner in Star Trek than any version of the winged super hero. Lynk on the other hand, he’s jokingly competitive. Always goading him to take the challenge, to go the extra mile, to think outside the box and be more than just a sheep. Sometimes it’s inspiring to overhear the pep talks he gives while they play around in the back yard, when Lynk’s timid about making a risky shot. If I’ve learned anything over these past couple of weeks, it’s that there are two versions of Holden Reiss. The question is how do I get them to fuse into one?

  “It’s almost time for Lynk’s soccer practice,” I announce. “Can you put your puzzle box away and go get ready, please?”

  “Yes, Miss Meena.”

  Holden helps her toss the loose pieces back inside and insists he’ll put away her dirty dishes.

  Once we’re alone, I ask, “Did you play sports when you were Lynk’s age?”

  He shifts himself to face me. “No, I was too busy getting ready to testify.”

  The casualness of the comment informs me his closed off nature has returned. “Against who?”

  “The man who killed my mother.”

  There’s a lack of sadness in his voice that should frighten me yet it only spurs me to want to push him more. He needs to be able to open up to someone. I know he has friends, but something tells me even they don’t know how deep some of the wounds go. “You were a witness?”

  “Character.”

  “It wasn’t an accident then.”

  “No,” he grunts, “and they didn’t actually want to let me testify. They were worried if t
he defense had a chance to question me it would weaken the case, but I didn’t care. I needed people to know the woman he murdered was more than just another prostitute. She was my mom. The woman who tucked me in at night and made me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, ya know? They needed to hear about how he forced me to watch him beat her when she made a mistake. They needed to hear how fucked up my life was because of him and how much I would miss her…”

  Desperate to keep the Holden file open as long as possible, I ask, “She was killed by your father?”