Break Me (Corrupted Hearts Book 2) Page 11

  “You’re going to have to do it,” Clark said, pressing the phone back into my hand.

  “What? Why?” I asked, alarmed.

  “Because he got a good look at me, but barely glanced at you. He’ll know something’s up if I give it back to him.”

  I frowned and prepared to argue more when Clark cut me off.

  “Trust me on this,” he said.

  His eyes were serious, his dark brows drawn together . . . and I believed him.

  “Okay,” I said with a nod. “What do I do?”

  “Go to the security guard on his left,” Clark said, motioning with his chin. “Tell them you found the phone and wanted to return it to whomever lost it. Don’t let on that you know it’s Lu’s.”

  “Got it.”

  I pushed my glasses up my nose and straightened my shoulders. I could do this. Easy as pie. I’d just found a phone, that’s all. And the security guard was obviously not a guest, not with the earpiece, so it was natural I’d give it to him.

  “Excuse me,” I said, not bothering to use my bad fake smile on him. “I found this on the floor over there. I’m sure whoever lost it would like it back.”

  He took the phone from me, looking me over carefully. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see to it.”

  “Thank you.” I turned away, stopping short at the woman who’d accosted me earlier and was there again.

  “I knew you looked familiar! You’re that girl—what’s her name?—Oh yeah. China. You kicked Jackson Cooper to the curb, right? This is so cool! I didn’t know they’d have celebrities here tonight.” She gushed at me, her voice way too loud.

  I stared at her, aghast. Reflex made me turn to see if Lu had heard. He was staring at me. While Clark had said he hadn’t paid me any mind before, he certainly was now.

  I had no idea what to do. If Lu’s security guards found out I wasn’t the name on the invitation, would they throw me out? Call the cops? Or would they bypass the American justice system in favor of their own type of interrogation?

  “You followed me here? Really?” Jackson had taken my arm and pulled me forward while speaking loudly. “That’s quite an extreme. We broke up, remember? The paparazzi are going to be all over this. Come on, let’s get you home.”

  I was too shocked and scared to do anything but let him lead me back down the stairs and outside. Wait, what about Clark? Had he made it out, too?

  “Nice one,” Clark said to Jackson, stepping out of the shadows. “Thought for sure that chick had blown it.”

  Lance pulled up, driving a limo this time. Jackson yanked open the back door. “Both of you, get in.”

  I didn’t argue or wait around to see what Clark decided to do. I wanted to put as much distance between Lu and myself as I could, so I scrambled inside the limo. They must’ve had a battle of wills because it took a few moments before Clark got in, then Jackson, who shut the door.

  “Hold here,” he ordered Lance, then pressed the button to raise the divider between the front and back.

  “I’m not into threesomes, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Clark deadpanned.

  Spotting a decanter of scotch, I reached for it and splashed some into a glass, which I downed in one swallow. It burned going down. Now that the ordeal was over, I was shaking. The aftereffects of adrenaline.

  “What is going on?” Jackson asked, his voice like steel. “And don’t give me some shit about it’s a secret and you can tell me but then you’ll have to kill me.”

  “Nothing gives you the right to know,” Clark retorted. “Not even that you’re the great Jackson Cooper.”

  “Me getting her out of there is what gives me the right to know. I don’t know how you coerced her into helping you, but Lu isn’t someone you should fuck with. He’s worth literally billions and he didn’t get there by being a nice guy.”

  “No shit. You think we were there on a whim? And trust me, if you hadn’t gotten her out, I would’ve.”

  “Stop,” I interrupted. “Being around you two is like being with two children. You bicker like teenage girls.” Dialing my cell, I waited until Roscoe answered. “Are you getting the signal?”

  Regardless of what was going on with Jackson, I wanted to make sure the job was done. After all, I’d been through having a duck’s mushy organ in my mouth tonight. I had to rephrase that inside my head right after I’d thought it. Damn Grandma’s romance novels and euphemisms for male genitalia.

  “Yeah, the signal is coming through loud and clear. We’re uploading software now. We should have everything on that phone along with eyes and ears going forward.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Fabulous. Have a report ready by morning.” After Roscoe’s affirmative, I ended the call. Jackson and Clark were still arguing.

  “I think you mean thank you,” Jackson said, his voice dry. I reached for the decanter again, but he took it from me. “Tell me the truth, China. Why were you there?”

  I sighed. I didn’t see a way out of telling him something. And it wasn’t as though Clark would rat me out to Gammin. “I told you I work for the government,” I said. Jackson nodded. “It’s a top-secret organization. Tonight, we needed to hack Lu’s phone and I was the only one who could do it. Clark handles operations, I handle tech.” In a nutshell.

  “A secret organization?” Jackson asked with a frown. “That does what exactly?”

  Use the software you helped create and thought you destroyed to monitor domestic and international communications.

  Nope. Couldn’t say that. I was saved by Clark.

  “The whole purpose of it being a secret organization is that no one knows about it,” he said. “The very fact that she’s told you of its existence is against the law. Are you going to put her in even more danger by making her divulge information that you don’t need to know?”

  “I’m not the one putting her in danger,” Jackson snapped. “You are.”

  “She was doing her job.”

  “What about you?” I interrupted. “Why were you there tonight? What were you discussing with Lu? And who was Rebecca?” Of all those questions, I wanted the answer to the last one first.

  “Rebecca is a friend,” he replied. “She accompanies me to events sometimes.”

  “What kind of friend?”

  “We’ve dated a few times, if that’s what you’re asking, but now we’re just friends.”

  “Do I really need to be here for this conversation?” Clark asked, sounding bored.

  “No, you don’t.” Jackson opened the door. “Get out.”

  Clark climbed out of the limo and Jackson followed him. Wondering if I should go, too, I scooted forward but stopped when I overheard Jackson speaking.

  “. . . second time I’ve had to pry my girlfriend away from you,” he was saying. “You don’t want there to be a third.”

  “Is that a threat? Seriously?” Clark scoffed. “First, a guy like you threatening me is laughable. That’s really all that has to be said, but since I’m sensing a recurring theme here, I’m going to address that, too.”

  I couldn’t see what happened next, but suddenly Jackson was slammed against the side of the limo and Clark’s voice changed to a low rasp I had to strain to hear.

  “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. Mack and I work together. That is all. Work partners is all we are or will ever be. So you can set your inner caveman aside. Not to mention that treating Mack like a piece of your property is insulting. She may trust you, but I don’t. You don’t want to piss me off by jerking her around.”

  “You’re a liar and you’re dangerous,” Jackson hissed. “I don’t like you being around China. Tonight’s a prime example of why. She may be disposable to you, but she’s not to me.”

  There was a slight scuffling sound, then Jackson was back inside the limo and slammed the door. He toggled a button and barked, “Drive.” The car began moving.

  “What was all that about?” I asked.

  “He’s an asshole.”

  Tell me
something I don’t know. “Yes, but we were working tonight. It was my job to go, not because of any decision Clark made. You shouldn’t blame him.”

  “He knows what he’s getting into. You don’t.”

  Anger flashed through me. “Actually, I do. I may be young, but I’m far from stupid. And I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. Clark works for me, not the other way around. So if anyone’s going to yell at him, it’s going to be me.”

  The limo had stopped and I impulsively hopped out. We were downtown, sitting at a stoplight. I’d catch an Uber home.

  “China, wait . . .” Jackson called.

  Forget waiting for an Uber. A taxi worked just as well.

  “We’re on a break, remember?” I said to Jackson, flagging down a cab. “Go back to Rebecca. Give the tabloids someone else to talk about.” Hmm. That came out with a bitterness I hadn’t expected.

  I got inside the taxi and left Jackson standing on the sidewalk, staring after me.

  8

  I was up late—way past my bedtime—reprogramming my firewall for my home network. And because I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what to do about me and Jackson. He’d made me angry tonight. Though I’d spent a lot of time exceeding others’ preconceived low expectations, it had been jarring to hear Jackson second-guess my decisions. On the one hand, it had been sweet, him going all Jealous Boyfriend on Clark. But on the other hand, his reasoning was that basically I was dumb.

  My smarts was the one thing I had that was irrefutable, so pretty much the quickest and most surefire way to piss me off was to imply that my intelligence was questionable. This was the first time Jackson had ever done that, and I didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

  “He can just go back to Rebecca,” I muttered to myself, giving her name a nice little bitchy sneer. “They won’t have anything they can talk about . . . though I doubt talking is what occupies their time.” My self-delivered pep talk ended on a sour note as I remembered how pretty Rebecca was and how long her legs were.

  A message popped up on my computer screen, catching my eye.

  Talking to yourself . . . it’s the first sign you’re going crazy.

  I froze. More words appeared.

  Of course, you’re pretty strange anyway.

  So my firewall hadn’t helped. He was already in my network. And wanted to make sure I knew so I could admire his mad hacking skills.

  “I’m not the one eavesdropping on strangers,” I said. I wasn’t surprised that he’d activated my computer’s webcam.

  You can learn a lot of things, eavesdropping on strangers.

  “Like what?”

  Like how you’re violating about half a dozen laws with the surveillance you do.

  Technically not true, since we were operating under a Presidential Directive, but I couldn’t tell him that. By nature, those were secret.

  “How do you know what we do?”

  A little birdy at another alphabet agency told me.

  My heart rate kicked up even more at that. If someone else did know about Vigilance, it could very well be the mole Gammin suspected.

  “Really?” I asked. “Which agency is that?”

  Why should I tell you? You’re all as bad as each other.

  Not a lot to disagree with there. “Some things are necessary to keep people safe.”

  You try to predict terrorists. No one can do that.

  “We can, and have,” I said. Which was true. One of the first people Vigilance had flagged was a Syrian refugee who’d been planning a car bomb at a sporting event in Texas. The federal agents had captured him before he’d managed to carry out his plans.

  The ends don’t justify the means.

  “In your opinion. But why are you hiding? You know who I am. At least do me the same courtesy.”

  So you can have me arrested and sent to some secret government prison, never to be heard from again? I don’t think so.

  “Then at least tell me who your source was.”

  Nope. Sorry. Can’t do that either.

  “So what’s the point of this conversation then?” I asked. “To brag? I did not appreciate you messing with my Iron Man, by the way. It’s very expensive.”

  That was totally sweet.

  Whatever. I was growing tired of the conversation. “I’m pulling the plug if you don’t give me a reason why I should bother continuing to talk to you.”

  Okay, here’s one. You’re in danger.

  As far as reasons went, it was a pretty darn good one.

  “And you know this how?”

  Can’t say.

  Figured. “Being ‘in danger’ is pretty vague,” I said. “Can you be more specific? Technically, I’m in danger every time I drive my car.”

  I just know you’re a threat to someone important.

  A shiver trickled down my spine. “I think you’re lying,” I said. “I’m going to bed now.” Reaching over, I unplugged my network again. Then grabbed my phone and called Roscoe.

  “You got it?” I asked when he answered.

  “Yep. Good job, boss. We’re monitoring now.”

  The hacker had taken the bait—as I’d known he would. No hacker could resist bragging. Now he’d carry the little bot I’d hitched onto him from my firewall right back to where he came from. By morning, I should know everything there was to know about him.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you in the a.m.”

  I put a piece of electrical tape over my webcam before changing into my pajamas, just because it freaked me out a little. I was making progress on the hacker problem, I’d done a good job tonight with Lu (making me feel like a combination of Black Widow and James Bond), and Clark and I hadn’t killed each other. Work was going very well . . . so why did I feel so unsettled?

  I stared at the ceiling way too long, thinking. I realized that my vague discomfort was all about the people around me. Jackson and I on a break. Mia at her parents and not sure she was going to return. As upset as I was about Jackson, one thing kept ricocheting through my head, and that was Clark’s declaration that we were only and would always be just work colleagues.

  Should I just forget it? Absolutely. And yet . . .

  Clark and I had once shared kisses that I still couldn’t forget. I wished more than anything that I could. My life would be much easier if I did. He’d made it very clear to Jackson that there was nothing between us and never would be. And I should be fine with that. I should be.

  I should be.

  The next morning, I tried to get back into my routine, but with Mia gone it felt all wrong. I’d finally taught her the difference between a heaping teaspoon of coffee grounds and a rounded teaspoon, but it mattered little if it was just me.

  Emotions were uncomfortable for me. I preferred the language of binary and code. Understanding how I was feeling left me frustrated and confused. I didn’t like feeling . . . sad. Which was how I felt. It made me unsettled and unbalanced. And I didn’t know what to do about it. How could I fix relationship problems when it wasn’t just up to me? Last I checked, it took two people to form a relationship.

  Roscoe was in my office first thing. “His name is Lai Kuan-Yu. He’s Taiwanese, a student at MIT, and seventeen,” he said, placing a tablet on my desk with a photo of a young Asian man. His hair was longer in the front than it was in the back and he had a lip piercing. “Been in trouble a few times with the FBI, but they could never prove anything. Too smart for that, though he likes to see how far he can push it.”

  “Any ties to terrorist groups?”

  “Not that I’ve been able to find so far.”

  “What about the Chinese?”

  “First thing I checked,” Roscoe said. “There’s no love lost there. He was part of Anonymous when they launched the DDoS attacks on the Chinese back in 2014.”

  I remembered that. Over thirty Chinese government websites had gone down in that Denial of Service attack. The hacker group Anonymous had claimed responsibility, citing support for several Hong Kong “hacktivists” who
had been arrested by the Chinese.

  “So just your usual don’t-trust-authority, I’m-smarter-than-the-next-guy type of personality?” I asked.

  “Pretty much. Keeps to himself. Lives alone in an apartment outside Boston.” His phone dinged an alarm. Switching it off, he dug a baggie from his pocket that looked like it contained some kind of seeds. He popped a few in his mouth and chewed.

  “What’s that?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “Pumpkin seeds.”

  “What happened to the pork-and-protein-shake diet?”

  He grimaced. “Made me constipated. I’m trying a seed-and-wheat-germ combination now, alternating every other day with citrus. It’s supposed to increase my energy levels. So far, it’s really working. Can’t you tell?”

  Roscoe’s trademark monotone hadn’t changed in the slightest, his droopy eyes and mouth reminding more of Eeyore than ever.

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, adding in my forced smile.

  He gave me a nod and chewed a few more seeds.

  “What about Lu?” I asked. “Intelligence coming in on him?”

  “Yeah, Lu’s been very active, speaking to several administration contacts,” Roscoe said, updating me on the state of our project. “And Jackson Cooper.”

  That got my attention. “What did they discuss?” It hadn’t occurred to me until later that he hadn’t answered my question last night about why he’d been speaking with Lu.

  “Jackson accused Lu of attacking Cysnet’s networks and citing them in that investigation with the State Department. Tong Enterprises is on defense, playing at being outraged at accusations of hacking and theft when, dollars to donuts, they’re guilty of the very thing they’re accusing Cysnet of doing.”

  War of the hackers. Not gripping reality TV, but a deadly game all the same. With lives around the world affected intrinsically in every way by technology at risk—disruption to key services such as gas or water, Internet outages, military technological espionage—hackers were on the cyber frontlines. China, Korea, and Russia in particular attempted to hack the Pentagon and military contractors on a regular basis. Not to mention the terrorist groups always on the watch for vulnerable systems where they could create havoc.