Page 7 of Filthy Little Regrets

Ian’s gaze flits around again, paranoia riding him hard. “Can we go to your place?”

My gut clenches, and I hesitate. I know Ian, sure, but it’s been years since I’ve seen him. Not to mention, he’s kind of freaking me out. What kind of trouble is he in?

“I know it’s weird.” Ian shifts on his feet, eyes jumping around the room. “In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t ask, but you’re the only person I can trust right now.”

A general rule hackers live by istrust no one, especially another hacker. Unease swirls in my chest.

“Why?”

“Not here,” he says again quickly. “We had a pact, remember?Please, Cassia.”

My eyes flutter closed. The pact. If either of us needed it, the other would help. No questions asked. We were in college when we made it. Something isn’t right, I should say no, but the desperation in his tone has me relenting. If I needed help, I hope he’d keep our pact. “Fine, but I want to ask questions,” I say, giving him a stern look.

“I’ll answer what I can.”

Meaning, there are things that are either really against the law or things that would put me in danger. This is probably a bad idea.

“I need to change. I’ll meet you outside?”

He nods, gaze pinging around the space again, as if he expects someone to jump out and screamgotcha!Warning bells go off inside my head. But we had an agreement. Besides, how bad can his situation be?

It’s bad.

Like, really, really bad.

“So, let me get this straight. You either do this job, or these...Russianguys kill you?” It’s a down and dirty summary of his twenty-minute monologue where he recounted all the bad decisions that got him here.

Ian nods from his seat on my couch. “Sounds about right.”

Ian fucked around and found out. He’s indentured to the fucking bratva, and if I don’t help him, they’re going to kill him.

Across from him, I twist my computer chair from side to side, a nervous habit I’ve never been able to break. “And why do you need my help?” He’s a great hacker, better than me in some areas.

“No one understands Rex Technologies’ firewalls like you do.”

That’s only because I spent years figuring out how they kept detecting me and kicking me out. I don’t like failing. I especially don’t like failing when Mace is involved. But I can’t agree to help out of spite. That would be too petty, right?

“And the job is?” Petty is my middle name.

Ian blows out a shaky breath. “A wire transfer.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the catch?” There has to be more to it than that.

Ian shrugs. “That’s all they told me. Believe me, I tried to do it on my own, but I can’t even get past the stupid firewall. They must have made an update.”

“Try ten,” I grumble, planting my foot on the ground and stopping my side-to-side motion. “The feds have beenon the hunt,” I remind him. “How serious are these guys about killing you?”

He blanches.

Great. My pulse thrums through my veins. He’s seriously terrified. I have to help him. Sighing, I spin my chair toward my wall of monitors and wiggle my mouse. “What’s the bank?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ian says in a rush, hopping off the couch. “First Bank of New York.”

I side-eye him as I type in the URL. Can I trust Ian? “If this comes back on me?—”

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