Page 95 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
“How do you know Polaroid is a man?”
Connor answers without hesitation, and with total conviction. “Of course he’s a man. Chicks don’t hack, and if they do, they’re never this good. Don’t have the brains for it.”
I have a feeling Connor’s going to eat those words one day.
Blowing out a hard breath, I rake a hand through my hair. “I think you should start at the beginning, when you left me this morning. Walk me through what happened. And then tell me what it all means.”
Connor sets my phone on the desk and lowers his bulk to the large leather captain’s chair. He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms over his chest, and begins.
“Started on your girlfriend with the usual background check. No felony or misdemeanor charges or convictions, clean DMV report, credit that would make Warren Buffett green with envy. No liens, civil judgments, or bankruptcies, pays her taxes on time, has more cash in one of her many checking accounts than I make in a year. And you were right: she has more money than you.” He pauses. “Wanna know how much more?”
I say emphatically, “Absolutely not.”
Connor chuckles. “Good. ’Cause it’d be a serious blow to your manhood, brother.”
I clench my teeth together so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack. “Moving on.”
“Right. Moving on. Other than a single prescription required for a minor heart condition, she’s drug-free. No history of mental instability, no major surgeries, gets annual checkups with her gynecol—”
“Enough.” I hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t tell me about her gynecologist. I feel bad enough prying this much as it is.”
Connor drawls, “—and no history of STDs. Gets tested regularly. Latest one was last month, and it was clear.” He smirks. “So you’re cleared to go ungloved.”
I stare at him so long and hard he finally relents, putting his hands in the air in surrender. “Moving on.”
“Exactly,” I growl. I don’t care how big he is and how long we’ve been friends. If he makes a rude comment about Victoria’s reputation or sex drive, I’ll leap across his desk and put him in a chokehold until he apologizes.
I’ll probably get my ass kicked in the process, but I don’t care.
“Education checks out, Social Security number checks out, everything right down to her birth certificate is legit. Didn’t see any obvious past connection between you two, though I’ll have to search other channels to confirm that: cross-reference travel dates, business and social memberships, whatnot. Since private communications are always the best place to start to dig real dirt, I tried getting into her email.”
He glances at the computer screen with a glower. “Which is when I ran into the problem.”
I’m relieved that Victoria doesn’t have any red flags in her past, and also relieved there doesn’t seem to be, at first glance, a connection between us. Also, she doesn’t have money problems, which means there are only two reasons she would’ve been trying to get into my safe.
One: she was simply snooping. She knows my reputation as well as I know hers; maybe she was just curious. Maybe she did take a wrong turn on the way out, and decided a quick look around my office couldn’t hurt.
Two: she’s digging for dirt on me, too. But why?
And we’re back to square one.
“So this Polaroid character.” I gesture at the bouncing cat on the screen. “Is he security for hire, like you?”
Connor looks insulted. “He’s not security, brother. He’s a fuckin’ anarchist! Likes to play games, blow shit up, cause problems! He hacked into Citibank’s computers about six years ago just to prove he could, left a message that said, ‘Your security is shit.’ And guess who was Citibank’s security firm at the time?”
My brows shoot up.
“That’s right,” says Connor. “Yours fuckin’ truly.”
I’m flabbergasted. Connor’s reputation in the security industry is unrivaled. If someone got past him, it means that someone is scary-smart.
And possibly a little unhinged. You don’t want a man like Connor Hughes as an enemy.
I say, “I didn’t hear anything about that breach.”
“That’s because no money was stolen. Though he had access to hundreds of millions of dollars in credit card and bank accounts, Polaroid didn’t take anything. He didn’t steal any customer data at all. He just hacked in for the fuck of it and cost me one of my biggest clients. But I’m not the only one; every major security company has had to deal with this fuckwit at one time or another. He goes after all the big boys: military, business, religion, you name it. Once took down the Church of Scientology’s computers for a full month.” He adds in a disgruntled caveat, “That one wasn’t so bad.”
“So if he’s not security for hire, what the hell is he doing protecting Victoria Price’s email accounts?”
