Page 87 of Web of Lies
Chase chokes a little, looking back at me. “I’m sorry, you stole his phone? How are you alive again?”
Seger snorts. “Yeah, go ahead and inform him of what happened after you stole all his shit,” Seger says in a mocking tone.
I pout, crossing my arms across my chest. “He took me to the boy’s bathroom, we talked, and then he tried to drown me in a toilet.” I hold out my hands at the immediate outrage pouring across his face. “But I’m alive, and I’m fine. That idiot doesn’t scare me.” My fingers move across the keyboard again as I break through the walls of Tate’s company.
“Holy shit, he should scare you. He’s crazy,” Chase breathes, fists curling at his sides.
“Believe me. We’ve tried to tell her. She’s just too….”
“Fucking stubborn for her own fucking good.” Seger finishes Zepp’s sentence with a smirk crossing his lips.
I tap my foot, eyeing the codes floating on my screen. My fingers twitch on the armrest, eagerly awaiting my moment to shine and help Chase clear his name. I wonder what will happen to the twins now their dirty secret is out? Does the Apocalypse have a backup plan? For the twin’s sake and Chase’s, I hope they don’t, but from what I’ve seen, they have their fingers in everything.
“I’m in,” I squeal.
A smile works its way across my face as I pour through the files from the main computer of Tate Benoit’s business. Tapping my chin, I click and click, trying to find a backdoor into the important information.
Spreadsheets filled with vital information pop up on the screen, showing their losses and profits. “It doesn’t look like any large amounts of money have gone missing from these,” Zepp says, scratching his chin. Hmm-curious. If there haven’t been any significant amounts of money taken out, does that mean he didn’t do it?
“Yeah, but that could be faked, right?” Chase asks with hope in his tone, worry creasing his brows.
“Yeah, it could.” I shrug, saving the documents to look at later too.
My fingers move across the keys, digging deeper into the hacked information. The deeper I go, the less I find. With my heart pounding against my ribs, I finally get to the end of the line. Even with getting into Tate’s personal computer and his office computer, there wasn’t any trace to show he had stolen anything. There’s no evidence of offshore types of accounts. Or anything to show Tate stole from his own company. Could separate written ledgers exist? Sure. But it’s improbable in today’s world.
“Everything seems clean,” I say, looking over at Chase. “Can I see the text again?” I ask, reaching out a hand.
He retrieves his phone from his pocket and hands it to me. I take it, plug it into my computer, and download the files, too. Side by side, I inspect the documents from the company and the ones they sent Chase. Zooming in and out of the papers, I finally spot the telltale sign of photoshop. Whoever did it, they were good, but not good enough to fool me.
“Right here,” I say, pointing to the tiny flaw in the doctored page.
“What’s that mean?” Seger asks, looming over the back of my chair. His eyes fixate on the computer screen, trying to decipher what is happening. But by the scrunch of his handsome face, he doesn’t have a clue.
“It means whoever sent those text messages didn’t have a damn thing on Chase, so they faked it all,” Zepp says through a confused sigh.
“Exactly.” I nod in agreement. “They made it all up.”
“And I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Shit.” He runs a hand down his face, shame coating his features. “Damn it,” he grunts, face falling into utter despair.
“Hey,” my fingers interlock with Chase’s. His sad gray eyes connect with mine, radiating the sorrow he feels for foolishly falling into their trap. “You didn’t know. To anyone else, this all looks real, legit. You did it to protect your dad, don’t beat yourself up, okay?”
“Yeah, man, seriously, don’t go down that road again.” Seger slaps a hand onto Chase’s shoulder, encouraging him to ease up on himself.
“I’m so damn stupid,” Chase begins, groaning. “I wasted so much time protecting my sister and my dad, who is innocent in all of this. I could have taken you to that damned restaurant. I could have protected you more from the beginning. I could have stopped everything from happening.” His blonde hair swishes when his head shakes. Shame fills every pore of his body at the what-ifs and what could have happened scenarios running rampant inside his head. But if I were in his shoes and had so many people to protect, I’d have done the same thing. He thought he was protecting his sister from his father’s indiscretions.
“Stop it,” I demand, cupping his heat-filled cheeks. Gray eyes stare back at me, clouding over with unshed emotions. “You didn’t know. It all looks so real, Chase. You had no idea, and you had to protect yourself and Ainsley from these people. They aren’t to be messed with. Look at my room, look at what they did to my stuff, and they haven’t even given me an actual reason for all of this.” My hands shake with the conviction of my words, moving his floppy blonde hair with my movements. A sly smile spreads across his lips as his hands cover mine, resting on his cheeks.
“It’s nice to know you know my name,” he retorts, making a snort slip from me. But it’s nice to hear the long-forgotten humor in his voice, that had slipped away.
“Don’t get used to it, Clark. I forget in a matter of minutes.” I tease, tweaking his nose with my finger.
“All right, all right, enough with the wishy-washy. I got some booze to wash down our fucking dinner.” Seger saunters towards us, holding a few beers up in his hands.
I shake my head, going back to typing. “I don’t drink, but thanks.” Seger shrugs, handing some to the guys, and strides back into the kitchen.
“Then what’ll it be, Princess? Coke? Juice?” A smile spreads across my face as Seger leans into the fridge.
His hands knock around the contents, clinking glasses together. He pokes his head just above the door, giving me a knowing smirk. “Eyes up here, baby.” I snort at what he’s insinuating, and well, he is right. His ass is mighty fine, bent over. My cheeks heat as I tell him I want a soda and not his ass. Totally not his delicious, tight ass. Damn, those jeans look good. Help—I need help.
