Page 53 of Grift

She steps back. “Look, I have no beef with you, Patrick.”

Before she can finish, Callan forces his way in behind me. The hall’s dingy, like a rotating bunch of people sleep and shower there, but the important parts of their lives happen somewhere else. I turn around, ready to hustle Callan out but she just shrugs. “Whatever. It’s fine. First door down here on the right.”

The apartment is small, a studio with a bedroom area that’s more like a closet. Technically they probably charge for a one-bedroom, which is bullshit. There’s a kitchen table, but it’s command central with three huge screens, a server, and a bunch of things I can’t identify. Another computer rack hums against the far wall. There’s one couch that’s opposite a huge television, with every video game console on the market hooked up.

She slides into a computer chair, folding one of her legs under her. Her toes are painted to match her hair. She points toward the couch. I gingerly lower myself down, wincing at the groan of old springs. Callan is standing and looks like he’s about to start pacing, when I look up and growl, “Sit the fuck down.”

This is not like him at all.

“Lila, thank you for seeing us. Before I go on, I’d like to ask if you can keep what I’m about to tell you confidential,” I hedge.

“You’ll need to sign an NDA,” Callan bites out.

At a glare, he stops talking but when I look back at Lila, I give her an uneasy smile. “He’s probably right. If we go forward with a paid project – that is, if you’ll help me – I’d ask you to sign something.”

Something. I should know what NDA stands for, because now it’s not just some worthless document. It’s about protecting Jessica. I need to know everything now, everything it’ll take to get her out of this situation and keep her safe. Get her away from assholes like my father and her father, and probably away from guys like me.

“But it’s not about me. It’s just about making sure my wife’s business stays private,” I run a hand over my jaw. Talking about this is harder than I expect, a thought that leaves me furious. Not a time for weakness.

Her thick eyebrows pull together in concentration and she nods. “Let’s assume that out of respect for your wife, everything we say today is totally off the record. Although how a Carney managed to land an amazing woman like that is beyond me,” she says, and then adds, “Sorry Patrick.”

No apology needed.

“Listen, Bridget says you’re a hacker.”

“I prefer cybersecurity expert, but yeah, ethical hacker works. What’s going on?”

I don’t want to tell her too much, but the truth is that I don’t know about enough IT shit to know what I can hold back. So I just shoot straight. “When Jessica was in college, she was drugged and filmed while being assaulted.”

As I say the words, Callan goes ramrod straight and stares at me with a shocked expression. He didn’t know either, then. He’d bought the sex tape story too then. The whole weight here – or more of it – lands squarely with my father then.

“Since then, the tape has surfaced repeatedly in schemes to get money from the Senator. But the problem hasn’t ever completely gone away,” I finish.

“Fucking blackmail. Assault. That’s horrible,” she’s already spinning to face the computer. “The person who did this, are they in jail?”

“No,” I bite out. “The Senator was more interested in suppressing it than in justice for his daughter.”

“Fuck that guy. So what are we dealing with? It’s online?” she asks, and when I don’t answer she spins back to face me.

“I don’t know,” I admit, suddenly horrified. “Nothing turned up in a basic online search, or in the work done by regular PIs, but I don’t really know how to check for more. This is getting into serious technology territory that’s beyond the skillset of the people I work with on a regular basis. Or that I have myself.”

Another skillset I’m furious I don’t have. It’s not logical. I can do two things: buy the information I need and make sure that those responsible pay. That should be enough. It has to be enough, and yet it’s not. But for some reason, where Jessica’s concerned, I’m becoming less rational by the day.

“I know how to track that down,” she says, sounding so fierce that I’m immediately filled with admiration. She’s five feet tall and probably weighs a hundred pounds. But that determination and knowledge punches way above her weight, so to speak. “Let me get this straight. Some creep assaults her, films it, and then bribes the dad. He pays the blackmail instead of hunting the fucker down, apparently because he’s a big family values guy and he’s afraid a scandal hurts his career. You guys get married, and what, the threats start again once the sleazebag realizes that she married into the family that’s behind the big casino project?”

Callan shifts beside me, and I signal for him to be quiet.

I don’t want to admit this. But I’m not going to lie. This woman’s too smart. She’ll find out the truth, one way or another. Besides, fixing this is part of taking responsibility for my part in this whole thing. For agreeing to marry a woman under these circumstances. I had my reasons, but now I have my reasons to make sure it never happens again.

“No, Lila. My father got a copy of the tape. At least, I’m assuming it’s just a copy. He’s using it for leverage on her family, against the Senator.”

Emotions cross her face, before recognition settles and her voice is dark. “Well that answers how a Carney married a Kensington.”

I’m at the end of what I can take today, but I swallow it down. “I didn’t know, at least not entirely. But for reasons that are probably obvious, I don’t want to go through the standard channels in cleaning this up.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I don’t want Jessica’s privacy compromised any more than it has been, and meaning I don’t trust anyone that works for my father.”

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