Page 64 of Dirty Love

“If I came up with one, could you even shift gears?” Jason’s yelling by the end of the question. “No, we’ll make this work. But you’re bringing us in, on everything. Right fucking now.”

I take a deep breath. “Easier to show you at my place.”

~

Tag lets out a low, long whistle as he looks at the wall in my loft. Around the domino parade of names are a list of bank routing numbers, connected to domain addresses, dates, other names…a complete web of money and masked confusion. “This is old-school vengeance, dude.”

I take that as a compliment. “Thank you.”

Cole laughs. “Okay, explain it to those of us that don’t think in binary.”

“For months, I’ve been waiting for Grant to do something illegal. Hire an underage hooker, gamble on the wrong thing. Jackass hasn’t. So I decided I had to do it for him, and with his brother’s money to boot. Those are small denomination donations to Rook’s so-called charity. They funnel in and then right back out of his company accounts. He does accounting once a month, so he’ll notice this at some point, but he’ll just find his brother. I don’t really care how that plays out. Then the money drops here—” I tap at Grant’s name. “And he uses it to bet on the fights. I pushed data packets onto his computer from the last dozen broadcasts, so the feds will find that trace after they arrest him.”

“And how they are going to discover him?”

I wince. “This is the part that includes Best, and unfortunately, I’ve already pulled the trigger. He’s also exceeded the personal contribution limit out of the same account, to the tune of ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dirty, racist dollars that the Best account will be forced to report to the Federal Elections Commission in the next day or two.”

“Triggering an investigation into that account?” Jason’s jaw is still tight as a steel coil, but there’s a grudging admiration in his voice that gives me hope.

“Yeah. Ideally, they’re watching him as he bets on the fight, and they swoop in to arrest him at the event.”

“You want him there in person?” Cole shakes his head. “Wouldn’t it be better if he was arrested at a hotel or something? Reduces the risk of…” He waves at the wall in the middle, where I’ve listed who I think might be at the fight in Vegas. Including now myself, as Nix. “You going to jail as well.”

“Unless he’s there in person, it’s all circumstantial evidence. And a good hacker would be able to unravel what I’ve done, or at least show that all the fingerprints were digital only, and therefore questionable. His physical presence greatly reduces the chance they even send the digital stuff beyond their in-house tech guys. The entire case will be about his bets that night, not as much about the validity of the donation money.” I let out a long, slow breath. “Or that’s the plan, anyway.”

“It’s good.” Jason nods. “We’re in.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t ask you guys to do that.”

Cole gives me a hard look. “I asked you to take fucking knitting lessons from my woman. We’re in. This is what we do. Besides, how are you getting him to go to the fight?”

“That’s the most beautiful part of it all. He was already in Vegas that night. Victor Best is going to invite him, and send a car. And he’s going to believe it, because he’s just that shallow.”

“Excellent. I’ll be the driver.”

“And we’ll be your eyes and ears outside the fight,” Jason says. “Worst case scenario, we can run interference with the Feds.”

“Worst case scenario is that I end up pummelling the guy to death. He’s going to recognize me. If he engages…”

Jason just shrugs. “That would be a bad idea on his part.”

No fucking kidding.

—twenty-nine—

Tabitha

Portland

When a stagehand knocks at my dressing room door and asks me if it’s a good time for a visitor, I’m expecting him to introduce Victor Best. Instead of the fifty-something billionaire, though, it’s his twenty-something wife who steps inside.

“Oh, hi!” I swivel out of my chair and put down the extra-pointy necklace I was just abut to put on in case Victor tried to hug me. “I’m Tabitha.”

She laughs and steps closer, holding out her hand. “Ginnifer, nice to meet you. I think, right? We haven’t met before?”

I shake my head. “I’ve met your husband once or twice at things, but I think this is the first time for us. I was expecting him, in fact. My manager said he was in town.”

Something passes quickly behind her gaze, then she gives a very practiced smile. “We are. He was.” She laughs. “Something came up and he had to fly to Washington unexpectedly.”

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