“Watch them. I want account numbers and transfer details.” I turn to start for the door when Christopher stops me.
“Wait, Boss… Look at this,” he says, pulling up his feed. It’s a detailed rundown of all the amounts these men have taken, all going to different bank accounts worldwide. “And they’re just finishing up.” He nods at the screen.
I wait there, watching as they move from one monitor to another, coming into view on each of the different cameras until they appear at the office where they’ll cash their chips out. One of the men is familiar. I’ve seen him before. But there’s a new guy I’ve never seen, and I can tell they’re getting smarter, trying to avoid detection with new men and new accounts. They don’t foolme. They’re probably paying poor, innocent people a cut of their winnings to come steal for them.
“How much?” I ask Christopher as he stares down at his computer.
“Thirteen grand today.” His eyes rise to meet mine, and I bite back an angry remark, then I head out.
I don’t care if Micah is getting squeamish about things. I won’t stand for this a second longer. She’s going to take every single cent of that money back, and I’ll be paying a visit to Bratva territory soon if they don’t get the point and back off.
I head straight to the back door and into the parking lot. I want to go home and talk to her face to face. The risk of her being caught is so marginal, at this point, it’s almost nonexistent. Sure, they’ll figure out it’s me, but to pin it on her isn’t ever going to happen, especially since I distanced myself from her family. She thinks she bought her father freedom in exchange for her work when what really happened is I pushed myself back from that table to create a buffer so my own hidden network wouldn’t be exposed.
“Santoro!” I hear behind me, and the booming baritone only further aggravates me.
I turn to see the man from the gambling floor standing near the building, as if he’d come expecting me to be here. It’s a sickening thing, really, to know your enemy hunts you like a lion preys on gazelle. They know me well enough to know my reactions. I look up at the camera and know it’s picked them up. They can’t do anything to me without jeopardizing their futures.
“Can I help you?” I ask, reaching into my pocket for my key fob. I quietly click the unlock button and prepare to leave if needed in an emergency.
“We know you’re taking our money,” the unfamiliar man blurts out.
“And we know you have Micah DeSantis doing it.” The Russian with the face I recognize may be nameless, but he’s just made my list. I stiffen and square my shoulders.
“You know nothing. I’ve had money stolen from me. And Micah is my wife, not my employee.” So they’ve figured it out, which means I need to up my security and keep her safer now. Probably her father and brother too. Sick fucks won’t stop at hunting my asset. They’ll destroy her heart so she’s useless to me.
“So, you’re denying she stole from you? And now you’re married to her… How convenient.” The men move closer as I ponder their words. No one could ever have known it was Micah who stole from me unless someone on the inside squealed, and none of my men would dream of that. Which only leaves Micah’s father. If they squeezed him already, though, he’d have told her.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I married her, but she never stole from me.”Directly, I add in my thoughts. She stole from my businesses, though she’s in the process of stealing my heart, which I may willingly give her before this is all over.
“Well, she’s stealing from us, and we know you’ve put her up to it. We want our money back.” They’re closer now, close enough to hit my center mass if they pull a weapon. I take a step backward until my hand rests on my car’s door handle.
“That sounds like a you problem, gentlemen. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I slip into my car, shut the door, start the engine, and drive away before they can come any closer.
I still don’t care. Micah will be safe enough at my home, and she will take that money back from those bastards. If it’s the last thing I do, I will bankrupt them.
15
MICAH
It’s been two weeks since Luke told me off for challenging his decision to steal back every cent his supposed card counters won at his casino. I’ve worked with dozens of account numbers, probably fifty transactions now, and it’s hard keeping up. I don’t know why he doesn’t just kick them out for cheating, but he’s a man who has his own means and methods of doing things. Though his promise to keep me safe and protect me from any backlash isn’t so reassuring.
My hacking can only entertain me so long, though, and I get bored. It’s difficult doing it alone, too. Dale is worthless. He knows less than Will, and Will’s degree isn’t even finished. As I progress through this task—siphoning a measly hundred grand from what Luke called his “Albanian rivals”—I think of my best friend and wonder what he’s up to.
If he were here with me right now, he’d be opening the back door into the system for me, monitoring traffic to make sure I’m not being noticed, and a few other small tasks. I miss doing this with him, the banter we used to exchange, and just having someone to talk to. It’s boring being alone—or virtually alone—all day longand staring at a computer. Dale may as well not even be here anymore. I’m not sure why Luke keeps him around.
“Yes, come on, come on,” I say to myself, cheering myself on as the algorithm runs its course. The code scrolls up the screen, populating from the bottom up as my hands work their magic on the keys. Normally, Will would be here cheering for me, cautioning me about dangers and otherwise being my best friend. I hate how silent it is in here.
“Shh,” Dale hisses, staring at the colored cubes falling across his screen as he plays his game.
I roll my eyes at him and continue my chase until I’ve scored the jackpot and the funds start transferring. When my mouth emits a shrill shout of victory, Dale scowls at me and closes his program. He stands and walks out, probably to piss or get a new soda. His workstation is covered in soda cans and half-eaten snacks while mine remains pristine and clear of any debris or substance that could damage the hardware.
I watch him leave and sit back after a few last keystrokes backing me out of the system. I miss Will, and I want to hear his voice, but he hasn’t answered his phone in the month I’ve been here. In fact, he hasn’t responded to my texts either. But I pull my phone out anyway and shoot him a new text message.
Micah 11:18 AM: Hey dufus, text me. I miss you. Just because all this happened, doesn’t mean we can’t talk.
I leave it at that, knowing he’s probably afraid. He already had qualms about working for my father at the jewelry store when he knew the Santoros were in charge. Dad reassured him enough that he loosened up and came and helped me, but he was always nervous.
I’m still happy over my recent hack and I want to celebrate. I know Luke will be happy too, though his praise has been hard-won lately. Something changed in him when I questioned his decision-making in regard to how much and how often I steal back casino transfers. I might just be imagining it, but I think he’s gotten moodier, maybe more controlling. He knows I’m not about to just take off and leave forever—I’m not stupid. He’ll hurt my father or hunt us down anyway, at least if we don’t have a solid plan first. So when I asked if I could take the ankle monitor off for good—not just for when we go out to dinner wearing fancy clothing—he snapped at me.