Page 102 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
She says, “Exactly. It’s bad. Also there’s the fun fact that I haven’t yet been able to get past whatever software is protecting Parker’s systems, because now there’s someone on the other end who keeps changing the passwords.” Her voice turns sour. “Every two minutes.”
“Wait, what are you saying? What does this all mean?”
She takes the papers from my hands and crushes them into a ball. “My best guess? Your boyfriend has someone like me on his side who knows what we’re up to, and is trying to do to us what we’re trying to do to him.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
“The pooch has been screwed, is what. The fat lady has sung. All the backdoors I could’ve exploited have been slammed shut on Parker’s system, and his admin has put traps in place that will lead him right back to me if I try to enter. It’s tighter than any military system I’ve ever seen. I’d have a better chance at getting in the Pope’s asshole undetected.”
She adds grudgingly, “Honestly, it’s pretty impressive. If I didn’t hate this prick so much, whoever he is, I’d want to pick his beautiful, bastardy brain.”
“Rewind a second—military system? When did you work on military systems?”
Tabby looks at me silently for a moment. “Remember before, when I was telling you about President Underwood’s minion who insisted on keeping certain nefarious details confidential so the president could plead ignorance if questioned?”
My eyes pop so wide I feel like a cartoon character, as if my eyeballs are in danger of springing from my head with a bazOOO-guh! noise, like an old-fashioned car horn. “Tabitha. Please tell me you’re not involved with anything to do with hacking the government.”
She shrugs. “Not anymore.”
Oh God. My head is spinning. I think I need to sit down, but I panic at the thought of Parker waiting for me in the lobby. Then something horrible occurs to me.
“Does Parker know it’s us who’ve been trying to gain access to his system?”
“There’s no proof where the attacks originated; so far, I’m invisible. But it can’t be coincidence that we targeted him, and then this happens.” She waves the crumpled wad of papers in my face. “And if I keep trying to get in, I’ll lead him right to us.”
“So there’s nothing more we can do? We’re screwed?”
“Six ways to Sunday, boss. The SS Cyber Revenge has sailed.”
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”
I dig my hands into my hair and stand for a moment with my eyes closed, breathing deeply, trying to determine what my next move should be, when Tabby says with utter nonchalance, “Unless I break into his house.”
I drop my hands to my sides and stare at her. “You’re joking.”
“I only joke about politics, religion and the size of men’s dicks, never about something important like work.”
I look around, worried that anyone standing nearby might overhear this outrageous conversation, but except for a few banquet guys conferring about setting up for another event tomorrow, we’re alone. In a lowered voice, I hiss, “Are you crazy? If you’re caught you’ll be arrested!”
She smiles a vague Mona Lisa smile. “So you’re not against the idea per se. Your only objection is that I might get caught?”
I open my mouth to deny it, but catch myself. “Well…yes.”
When I see her smile turn smug, I insist, “But Tabby, there’s no way you can guarantee you won’t get caught! If he’s got major defenses on his computer—not to mention the biometric security on his office safe—there’s no telling what kind of security system he has installed on his home!”
“Sure there is—”
“No! I’m not letting you do that, Tabitha. It’s too dangerous for you. The answer is no.”
She stares at me with her lips pursed, a lock of red hair falling into her eyes. “So you’re cool with me breaking and entering electronically, but physically it’s a problem…I assume you’re aware of the definition of the word hypocrite? Because I’m thinking if we looked it up in the dictionary, your picture would be right next to it, Maleficent.”
I want to wring her neck for arguing with me, but exhale in exasperation instead. “Last time I checked there weren’t policemen with guns pointed at your head in cyberspace—if you trip an alarm at Parker’s house, it will be swarming with armed cops before you can say ‘Guardians of the Galaxy rocks!’”
Tabby’s nos
trils flare. “Do not mock Guardians of the Galaxy, Victoria. Chris Pratt was super hot in that! And don’t even get me started on the special effects—or the soundtrack! And remind me again how you’re going to ruin Parker’s life if we can’t get into his safe, or his computers, to find his dirty laundry?”
She’s being sarcastic, the little bitch, but she has an excellent point. If I’m cock-blocked by Parker’s smarty-pants security firm and can’t get any more information on him, and the intel Tabby’s come up with so far is bubkes, what’s my next move?
