Page 147 of Golden Atonement

Rubbing my head, I groaned. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s familiar about this worm?”

“Every hacker has a call sign. Like a signature. We put it in our codes whenever we do something, kind of like a big fuck youto the powers that be. Anyway, for those who know what to look for, there is a reoccurring line of code that will always pop up.”

“The signature.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Well, when Sypher was going through the ghost files from the Soulless Sinners’ database, he found the signature, but he didn’t recognize it. So he sent it me.”

“And you’ve seen that signature before?”

“Yeah. But the problem is, I can’t remember where.”

“Babe,” Bullseye spoke up. “The hacker world is rather small.”

“I know,” she groaned, leaning forward. “There are only a handful of people I know who could pull something like this off. The problem is, they are all younger than me and have their own distinct signature. Whoever did this is not only smart, but cunning. They used an old-school worm and infused it with modern techniques. And while my first guess was Benson Graves, that man isn’t smart enough to pull something like this off. He’s an information gatherer, not a hacker. And just to make things more interesting. The person who uploaded the worm into the Soulless Sinners’ database, is also the same person who copied and downloaded all the files from the Trick Pony before Ace could upload all the files. I’m talking superfast on the keys. Faster than me or Sypher.”

Groaning, I rubbed my temples. I hated this computer crap. It gave me a headache every fucking time.

Pushing off the doorjamb, I was about to say something when my phone started ringing. Digging it out of my back pocket, I looked at the caller ID and sighed. “What the hell now?”

“Who is it?” Bullseye asked.

“King,” I groaned, and Bullseye chuckled.

“Let me guess. Savage is pissing King off again.”

“He better not be. I don’t have time for his petty bullshit,” I grumbled, connecting the call. “King. Whatever that fucker did, just take care of it. I’ve got my hands full over here.”

“President Reaper?” an incredibly young voice said through the phone.

Frowning, I looked at the caller ID once more to make sure I saw everything correctly. When I saw King’s name again, I frowned, putting the call on speaker.

“Yeah, this is Reaper. Who am I speaking with?”

“Uh,” the little voice whispered, before saying, “It’s Cameron.”

Grinning from ear to ear, I shook my head. “What can I do for you, Carnage?”

“Oh good. You remember me.”

“Won’t ever forget you, kid. You single-handedly took down the Sons of Hell. Gotta say, that was really ballsy of you.”

There wasn’t a biker club in the world who hadn’t heard of Carnage and the smackdown he put on the Sons of Hell. While it was all harmless, King would never live it down. The President of a motorcycle club got taken down by a seven-year-old kid.

“Yeah. It was one of my better moments. Anyway, I’ve got an issue and need help.”

“Why not go to your Prez?”

“Cause he ain’t sayin’ shit. He’s blackballed me, and now everyone refuses to talk around me.”

“I see.” I smirked, trying hard to hide my laughter. “So, what do you need from me?”

“There is something going on here. It’s big. I can feel it in my bones, but like I said, no one is talking. Lots of closed doors and secret meetings. Shit like that.”

“And you don’t like being left out of the loop?”

“Hell no,” the kid groaned. “These are my boys. How am I gonna help them if I don’t know what’s going on?”

My God this kid was a trip. He was going to be a damn good President one day. That is if he lived to see eighteen.

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