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11

MAX

The problem with running a cybersecurity firm full of savants is that they’re all smart enough to be shrewd and sarcastic without the social skills to realize it.

And annoying. Did I include annoying?

“Bauer, I swear to God, if you go on and on about one more hacker you were able to take down using a backdoor you placed on a video game instead of finishing that ransomware report, I will remove you from anything mission-critical and let you rot in compliance work,” Loretta snaps.

Bauer swivels in his chair. “But this one’s genius. You clip through a wall and⁠—”

“Noooo!” Loretta is banging her head dramatically against her desktop.

Yamila is in her office, muttering to herself while wiping her desk with disinfectant like it might harbor anthrax.

Suddenly, Frank barrels in without a care in the world. He’s whistling some tune so off-key there’s no way I’d ever figure out what it was without him telling me. I begin to join Loretta in banging my head against my desk, knowing I’ll never get any work done here when I catch Frank’s latest company shirt out of the corner of my eye.

The front of the bright blue tee has a picture of a fist bump with the words TRUST ME BRO DELIVERY. His company logo. It doesn’t take long for him to turn around, where I catch the back: NO, I DIDN’T LOOK IN THERE.

Loretta simply stares at him. I’m sure she’s wondering if the doctor who delivered Frank may have dropped him after cutting the cord.

Frank grins. “What?”

“You look like a chapter seven bankruptcy waiting to happen,” she says weakly.

He blows her a kiss and spins toward the exit. “Love you, Mom.” Then he does a quick 180 and circles back toward her.

Loretta shrieks as he plants a loud kiss on her cheek and flees, narrowly missing the stapler she throws at him. “You better quit before I knock you into next Sunday and save you a seat at church.”

I rub my temples. I’m supposed to be reviewing phone records. Hundreds of them. Metadata, timestamps, and cell tower pings. They’re my least favorite part of a case. Mind numbing busy work.

I should ask Yamila to do it. She’s so OCD she’d knock this out in no time. But she’d ask too many questions. This case isn’t one for the Secure Sphere files. It’s something I’ve taken on myself. It would be bad enough if I was ever found out. I don’t need anyone within the company going down with me.

It seems the woman’s story is checking out. Her ex-husband’s emails are shady as hell, and there’s dark web chatter that suggests he’s into underage content. However, I’ve found nothing concrete enough to put him in cuffs. By my estimation, everything hinges on his phone. That has to be the way he’s communicating with these girls. Through all of the account scraping I’ve done, there’s no interaction via social media or email. It has to be through his phone. Or a burner phone.

This means continuing to stare at my data until my brain leaks out my ears. And with this circus around me, that’s not happening. I’ll never focus beyond reading the same line over and over.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Gianni: Matteo’s in town. A few of the guys are coming by. Any chance you’re available to give us updates on Vincenzo?

I don’t even hesitate.

Me: On my way.

Hell, if nothing else, at least the chaos at The Devil’s Playground is mouthwatering. Good Lord, man. Stop thinking about that girl.

I arrive to find Matteo in our usual location, drinking water. This tells me everything I need to know about how seriously he’s taking this situation. The last time Gianni found him, he nearly drank himself to death.

Gianni walks over and gives my shoulder a playful shake. “What, did you teleport here?”

“Hmmm. Not a bad idea. Will have to try that next time.”

Gianni chuckles, taking a seat beside Matteo as Lala approaches with his scotch. His cousin eyes the drink, pushing his hand through his dark hair. I don’t know how he does it. I think if I was trying to stay on the wagon, I’d avoid anywhere that served alcohol so freely. But it says a lot that he’d brave his temptation to ensure his crime boss father hasn’t made any traceable threats against him or his ex-wife.

I’m mid-sentence, about to explain encrypted comms when I see her.

Cassidy.