Page 4 of The Orc of Wall Street

“I wouldn’t be calling if it were a hunch,” Reese continues, and I think I can hear the sound of ice clinking in a glass.

“How much did the cyber thief take from you?” I put my legs up on the desk in my office and let the candy bowl my heel just kicked fall to the ground.

It rolls across the carpet, but I don’t bother to pick it up. I wish a bowl of spilled candy was my biggest problem.

While Reese hasn’t branched out into selling his own line of products as we have, it’s not from lack of talent. He is a gifted mathematician who mostly develops software for the motor industry. So if he tells me there’s a hundred percent chance I should be worried about a certain cat burglar, I’d be a fool not to thank him for the intel.

“What he took doesn’t matter,” he blurts out.

It feels forced and practiced, telling me one major thing – Reese is hurting from this one.

“You’re a bigger man than me,” I say in the spirit of camaraderie.

I’m already dreading the moment everyone at Jarn Enterprise learns of my own loss. The company’s loss, since what hurts our bottom line hurts them. Maybe not after one hit, but if this continues? I pride myself on paying well, and Fuck Face Craig is trying to spoil this fact for everyone.

He’s always been jealous of my generosity, which is something the naga can’t quite seem to manage. So he likes to destroy the practice where he sees it, no doubt fearing his own business model won’t stand out. Not if his competition can’t out-boss him.

“It sounds like what happened tonight took a solid crew, not a genius working alone.” Reese clears his throat before continuing. “Which is to say you’re not done getting robbed just yet.”

“Only by someone else now,” I growl.

“More money, more problems,” Reese says. “My son said it the other day. Profound, right?”

Not from where I’m sitting. “Definitely,” I reply, then thank him for the call.

This Siphon is crafty, but now that I see them coming, maybe I can get ahead of their plans and make the criminal an even better offer.

What’s more useful than a genius when trying to crush your enemies? And there’s no way I’m letting Fuck Face Craig off the hook without a fight. This Cyber Thief is about to get an offer they’d be a fool to refuse. Especially since I’ll leave the con no choice but to join my team or rot behind bars.

CHAPTER 3

Sloane

“Get you anything else, dear?” a charming and frail voice to my right asks.

I look up from my fake spectacles and jet-black wig with a genuine smile. “Just the name of your boss, Edna, because you deserve a raise,” I reply, though I know the bushy-haired pixie with the D-plus hearing aids won’t remember me anyway.

Not if she hasn’t all the other days I’ve come in, dressed in different getups and gazing out the window as if watching light traffic is my thing.

“Oh, that is too kind of you,” Edna gushes, missing my mug but getting coffee on my plate and pastrami on whole wheat.

I stay quiet. The ancient waitress should be reading under a palm tree or touring the south with her friends, not hustling for single-digit tips on the night shift. Or holding hot coffee.

“Perfect, you’re a doll.” She shuffles away, and I slip my gaze out the dingy window to my real target.

Jarn Enterprise’s fancy schmancy lawyer’s office. I narrow my eyes on the ginger-haired werewolf running out of Dracus and Draper Law. I check the time on my burner phone. He’s leaving early.

Ella Vos must have him sick with lust. Good. I know her as Delilah Rowan, one of the finest escorts in the city, and thank my lucky stars that I passed her rigorous vetting when I first approached her.

I don’t know what makes her more legendary. Is it the creamy skin, toned everything, and long, natural lashes? Or the fact she’s a double major in psychology and drama?

The bombastic blonde has been milking Preston Rowe Draper for every drop of relevant information for the past month. And lucky for me, Loose Lips likes to brag. Especially about Jarn Enterprise’s launch of underwater DSLR cameras, which are supposedly near-indestructible.

Cutting-edge engineering is partially to thank, but so is the Operator in Chief. Tarek Jarn is a savvy businessman. The tech company has branched out, buying industry-adjacent companies with big ideas and tiny budgets.

This means I don’t have to get all my information straight from Jarn’s system. The deep catalog of blacklisted buyers the enterprise refuses to work with can be found on Preston’s computer. Each company is the perfect one to dangle the schematics in front of. Once I get them, of course. But that’s step two.

My burner phone vibrates against the wobbly diner table. I smile because I know it’s Delilah.

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