Page 85 of Dirty Little Secrets
He sighs. “No one else? You can’t think of one single person who’d have a vendetta against you? I doubt that, Cavanaugh. Men like us are born with enemies. Look harder.”
“Fuck you.”
“Send little Emery my regards,” he coos. “I hope her throat is feeling better.”
My teeth clench together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Quinton lets out a boisterous laugh. “Brilliant. My data is adding up perfectly. Take care now, Cavanaugh. Good luck finding your rat.”
I hang up on him, slamming the receiver on the dock. I already found the rat. Now it’s a matter of extermination.
THE COLLECTIVE
EMERY
Trust me.Trust me. Trust me. His empty words replay over and over again in my head as I stare at the computer. He’s lying to me. I’m certain. There’s something hidden within these files that he doesn’t want me to uncover. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I don’t need to know what lies within this account. Plus, I don’t particularly want to get sucked into his web of corporate subterfuge.
Right…?
In situations like this, ignorance is always bliss. I should exit the server. I should move on to the next account. I should focus on the fact Damon is taking me out tonight. For real. Not to fuck but to bond. The thought alone leaves me anxious.
He told me to trust him, and I should. I want to givehim the benefit of the doubt. I want to believe him when he says it’s just another client, but I can’t seem to exit out of the server. VenCore. VenCore. Where have I heard that fucking name before?
I close my eyes and think. Think, goddamn it.
VenCore…
VenCore…
“One more question…” The reporter swallows. “Mr. Cavanaugh, what can you tell us about VenCore LLC?”
“VenCore?” Damon asks. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that name before.”
“But—”
“Let’s go.” He takes my hand. “I hate reporters. Bunch of opportunistic scum.”
“What’s VenCore?” I ask. “Damon?”
“Nothing. After you.”
My eyes spring open. The fundraiser. That’s where I heard it. But… But it doesn’t make sense. Why would the reporter ask him about it? My frustration grows deeper. What the hell is VenCore?! Without wanting to draw attention to my online searches, I pull out my personal cell phone and do a Google search. If it’s a registered LLC, then it should come up. It should pop up on some sort of database.Please. I scroll through the search results, my stomach in knots as absolutely nothing of value appears on the screen. Nothing. How can there be nothing? It’s like this company doesn’t even exist.
My gaze flits back to the computer monitor. It’s just a password. A ten-digit code. I should’ve paid moreattention when Tom was babbling on about his underground hacker network. What was its name?
If I could just…
I need to get better at controlling my impulses.
“Hello?” Tom’s wary voice croaks through the phone. “Emery?”
“Hello, Tom,” I say, suddenly anxious. “How are you?”
He scoffs. “How am I? Seriously? You drop off the face of the earth formonths,and you ask me how I am? I’m great, Emery. Truly fantastic. I’m dating someone new. Ellen. From legal.”
“That’s good,” I hum. “She was always quite friendly.”
“What do you want, Emery?” he asks, tone stern and cold. It makes sense. I did hurt him. “Well?”
