Page 17 of Hacked For Love
Robin.Holy shit this woman is trouble,I think, a moment before I push past my haze and shove myself out of mybed.
But I like her kind oftrouble.
I’m in the shower when my phone starts ringing. I finish rinsing off, wrap a robe around myself, and wander out, yawning, to see who it is. The phone keeps ringing until I pick it up. “It’s four thirty in themorning.”
“Yes, sir.” It’s one of the desk guards, and he sounds pretty damned nervous. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, sir, but there are two very large Italian men in suits downhere.”
I blink slowly.Shit. Here we go.“All right. Let them up. Do not escort them, and let John know we have a Scenario Six as soon as the elevator doors close behindthem.”
“Yes, sir.” He hangs up. Sighing, I get dressed in a good black suit and make sure I have my Berettahandy.
Five minutes later, the door slides open, and two of Don Rocco’s enforcers come in. I would know them at once for what they are from both their enormous size and the way their shoulder holsters show against the jackets of their ill-fitting suits. They pause as they come in, and the larger, older one narrows his small eyes as he looks me over, clearly not expecting to find me sitting calmly alone behind my loftdesk.
“Help you gentlemen with something?” I ask quietly as I stand. The pistol gleams next to my keyboard—I’ve made sure they can’t see it from theirangle.
They look at each other and then walk up to my desk and stand over it, arms folded. I sit back down as they approach, sliding the pistol into my lap. Neither seems to notice. The smaller one, who has a scar cutting into his jowl on one side, steps forward andspeaks.
“We’re here as representatives of Mr. Marcone. I’m sure you’re familiar.” They sound overly casual; they seem to have forgotten that they’re in a highly secured building and have only gotten this far because I allowedit.
“I am. But Mr. Marcone and I don’t have any business dealings, so I’m confused as to why he arranged this sudden early morning visit.” I play innocent, just as calm and casual asthey.
“Oh, I think you know,” comes the almost sarcastic reply, and I do my best not to bristle. So much ego in these men—and so little competence to back itup.
“Look,” I say, gesturing toward the small wet bar I keep by my desk. “Let’s pretend for a moment that it’s well before dawn, I haven’t had sufficient sleep or coffee, and your boss and I have never had a problem before. Oh wait, that’s the absolute truth. So please, excuse me if I’m hazy about where I stepped on your esteemed boss’stoes.”
“He had a bunch of that Bitcoin stuff stolen from him,” sighs Scarface. He jerks his head at the bruiser, who goes to fill two tumblers halfway with eighty-year old Scotch. “Our IT guy traced them to youraccount.”
I blink, and then—after making sure the pistol is concealed on my lap—open my laptop and bring up the affected Bitcoin accounts. I am going to be partially transparent at this point...partially. If I’m going to put up a smokescreen, it’s going to be so close to the truth that only Robin will be concealed byit.
Robin.I’m not sure why I’m protecting her, especially since I know that Marcone is looking for a convenient fall guy. Except that she and I are so alike in so many painful little ways...and she doesn’t actually deservethis.
I don’t imagine that she’s gotten much in her life that she actually does deserve. But maybe I can help changethat.
Bottom line: I like her. I want her talents at my disposal and her dainty little green-haired self in my bed. And none of that is going to happen if I let Marcone have her. “I want to show you some information from my Bitcoin accounts from four days ago. This is confidential information, so please don’t let it go any further than youremployer.”
“Of course.” They seem confused that I’m treating this with the calm, respectful formality of a business transaction. Maybe even relieved. Both men crowd in behind me, and after setting up a redacting program to scramble my sensitive information, I show the window inquestion.
“At a little later than this time four days ago, I received an alert from my IT team that my own accounts had been robbed. But right before they were robbed, I got a transfer of Bitcoin from an unknown source. That money was then transferred out of my account within the hour, along with another twenty-five thousand Bitcoin of myown.”
I show them the transactions. The big one grunts and looks at his senior. “The numbers match what the Boss said he lost,” herasps.
“So, someone sticks a bunch of our money in your account, and then pulls that and some money of yours out and sends it somewhere else. Do you know where?” They go back to their seats, and I feel myself relax slightly. They didn’t notice thegun.
I hesitate for a split second, realizing that they’ll notice if I take too long.They’ll trace the other transaction to Yoshida no matter what I do. But I will not be the one to implicate him—one undeserved enemy is more than enough.“We’re still determining where the money went from there. But your boss and I could both simply be links in a chain of suchtransactions.”
“So, whoever this is robbed a bunch of people at once, shuffling money through their accounts as he went?” Scarface is smart. Maybe too smart.Handle himcarefully.
“Well, if my theory is correct, thenyes.”
The big one frowns. “The Boss wants his money and the hand of whoever did this to him. But if this is a frame-up, we’d be bringing him the wrong hand and the real thief will get offfree.”
“Look, gentlemen,” I say calmly as I watch the two idiots drink down my good Scotch like water. In this rainstorm, they’re probably going to end up totaling their car if they keep drinking like this. But I’m not here to keep goons from dying ofstupidity.
“Besides what I’ve just shown you, I have the two best reasons in the world to not be your thief. The first part is that I do not want or need Mr. Rocco’s money. The second is that I certainly don’t want or need Mr. Rocco as anenemy.”
I wait as the two sit back down and confer in Italian. I can understand every word, but I simply sit there pretending to beoblivious.
“Look, the incoming account numbers match, the amounts match, and the transaction times match, too. I know this Steele guy’s supposed to have serious balls, but he wouldn’t just show us stuff that sensitive when it could fuck him later, unless he really did believe it would get us off his neck.”Scarface rubs his face, loosening his collar. His cheeks are pink. The Scotch is doing itswork.
