Page 102 of Summer People
I lean closer. “I need you,” I whisper against his mouth.
With a thoughtful frown, he studies me like he’s trying to determine if I truly want this or if I’m trying to hide behind my words.
I don’t move.
Our breaths tangle together and the air grows charged. I trace the lines of his face with my eyes, waiting for him to realize what I know.
“You’ve got me, Princess.” He angles in and his lips crash into mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
fisher
The dull buzzperforates my state of concentration, the sound getting closer, but I won’t stop until this is done. I finished the hard part—getting into the account—five minutes ago. Now I just need to leave the gift. I type out the number quickly, then click the box. Half a heartbeat later, the voices are close. Just down the hall.
In the week since Libby and I returned to the island, I’ve been singularly focused on my mission. I’ve never felt the desire for violence before. However, when Libby poured her heart out, along with her tears, opening up about what Brad did to her, I wanted to end him. I wanted to track him down and beat the shit out of him. I want him dead.
But that isn’t possible.
Libby and Sutton need me.
This way, they can still have me while I seek a modicum of vengeance. While I silently make Brad Fedder’s life a living hell.
On our first day back on the island, his security alarm malfunctioned. Ninety-nine percent of the day, the system doesn’t work. But every morning at 3:06 a.m., the alarm blares for seven minutes. No matter how many times he types in thecode to disarm it. All emergency personnel report to his house. Police, fire, and ambulance. For no reason. Not one of the many people from the alarm company who have been called to service the system can figure out why.
Day two, his phone reset. All the data justpoof, gone. Oddly enough, his iCloud has no history. He’s just shit out of luck.
Day three, his password key went nuts, suddenly populating the wrong password for every account and on every site.
Day four, all of his bank accounts were frozen by Homeland Security. Although no one can explain why, it will take time to sort through the channels to release the funds.
My time spent torturing this bastard has been the highlight of my week. It’s also ensured that he hasn’t had the time or ability to fuck with Libby. And, thankfully, no one has bothered her at all in weeks. With any luck, the fucker has given up.
“Hacker.” ApparentlySheriffis no longer fitting, so Libby has taken to calling me Hacker.
“Yeah, Princess?” I black out my screen and swivel around, leaning back in my chair.
“Was that Instagram?” She narrows her eyes on the screen behind me.
“You know I don’t have Instagram.” I stand and pull her out of my room. She doesn’t need to know what I’ve been up to. Plausible deniability and all that. Although typically, when someone is paying me to break into their network, it’s all above board, these side projects with Brad fall into a gray area.
“Maggie, Sutton, and I were thinking…” she says, her lips tipping up.
“That right there is enough to scare me,” I tease as we head down to the kitchen.
Libby shakes her head. “Look at you suddenly learning how to joke.”
“Oh my gosh!” Sutton bounces on her toes as she looks up from my laptop. It’s set up on the counter for her to use with supervision. “Did you see what Logan posted?”
Expression neutral, I watch her, waiting for what comes next.
“Logan?” Maggie asks.
She lifts her hand and stage whispers, “That’s not his name. That’s his name on the show.”
“Oh.” Libby’s eyes cut to me. With everything that’s been reported this week, it’s possible that she suspects I’m up to something. “What did Brad post?”
“Right, Brad.” Sutton spins the computer, and Libby’s eyes widen.
