Page 22 of Pressure

Marissa lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously, Lance. Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

His forehead wrinkled. “Tell you what?”

“You just said Isabelle found you by accident and applied. That kind of seems fishy to me. How is an application and website as secure as yours something you stumble onto by accident? I already know you’re not indexed in search engines.”

She watched as he went pale. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“You don’t think she could be the one pulling strings, do you?”

His head shake was violent. “No. And you won’t even raise a whiff of that suggestion to anyone else. Clear?”

“Crystal. I was just asking. Calm the fuck down.”

“Isabelle’s application came in around the time things went sideways for Patrick and Holly’s family,” Lance muttered to himself, ignoring her. His fingers flew and Marissa leaned back to watch him. She hated to admit how attractive she still found him. And watching him be so protective of Isabelle and the others at the club was kind of adorable. If only he’d been that protective of her and the potent dynamic they’d shared.

“Talk to me,” Garrett Oliver said as the door swung open.

Marissa jumped and nearly toppled out of her chair. She’d been so engrossed in watching Lance.

Lance didn’t respond and Garrett scowled.

“He’s chasing an idea. Give him ten.”

Lance flashed her a thumbs up and kept typing.

“Then you talk,” Garrett said, lowering himself into a chair near hers and rolling it closer. “How much does the press have?”

She walked him through the various communications she’d found and told him she was just getting started on D.C. media.

He shook his head. “I have people all over that. If it gets out in D.C. I’ll be getting a call from the White House press secretary or chief of staff or maybe both.”

She nodded. “Tell me about the reason you think this got leaked?”

He frowned. “How is that going to help you do your computer voodoo?’

Both eyebrows raised as she looked at him incredulously. “Voodoo? What I do is art.”

He shrugged. “Tell the witches in New Orleans that the magic they practice isn’t art. It wasn’t an insult, Miss Sullivan.”

Oh, he was smooth. No wonder he was successful in politics.

“Call me Marissa, please. And to answer your question, sometimes understanding motive can help me narrow down what kind of hacker I’m looking for. We’re a tight knit community, even those who do things that are less than legal—maybe especially that crew. The thing is, there are some jobs some of us won’t touch. If I can understand the motive, I can cross off some people. And I’ll have a better idea of who to talk to and what kinds of tactics to watch out for.”

Garrett nodded and dragged a hand through his hair.

"That makes sense. Where do I start?" He asked, more to himself than Lance or Marissa.

"If I'm honest, I'm still a little confused on the reasoning. But it started when my brother resurfaced and wanted to sabotage my business."

Marissa nodded and typed notes on her laptop.

"And what's your brother's name?"

Garrett leaned one arm on the table. "Legally I think it's still Maddox Oliver, but he also went by Maxwell Jameson."

Her fingers flew across the keys. "Thank you. And where does your brother live?"

"An urn in my closet at the moment."

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