Page 94 of Severed Rivalry
“This will go live when I’m confident I haven’t let a single rat slip through. No home addresses, but I do think the predator becoming the prey in the media, their businesses being inundated with poor reviews, means they learn the consequences of their actions.”
Cian: You kind of scare me.
“Thank you. No one—and I mean no one—fucks with my girl. That doesn’t mean we won’t have a very uncomfortable conversation about sex and porn and internet responsibility. But we’ll do it safe from these men.” I extend a hand toward my screen. “And women.”
Cian: What does this mean for your job?
“It means I need a new one. And fast. I’ll begin looking on Saturday after our meeting with the FBI.”
His breathing evens out, and he begins pacing. His phone is on the island and he stares at me like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.
Not knowing what’s going through his head is killing me. But he’s allowed his thoughts.
I return to my computer and complete what I believe to be the end of what’s needed to prove these offenders knew the app users were underage. I have enough to see to it that Connect2Coach never sees the light of day and that the developers and owners are named as sex offenders enough to be charged. They’ll build something else—they always do—but their home addresses will be registered publicly, and every employment or lending background check will include the flag.
Cian
Colorado is my home. I vacation elsewhere, but I’ll never leave this place. I love everything about it, save one terrible detail.
Everything is public record. Everything. Sariah’s mugshot, for one. Her home address, for two.
She’s poking a mountain lion with this project. More like, she’s poking a den of mountain lions and could expose herself and Renée in the process.
Not that I want the fuckers to get away with it. Far from it. I’d make eunuchs of them all.
But we need to think this shit through.
With a peck on the lips and a smile that lit up my insides, Sariah said goodbye and was home by the time Rosie and Renée arrived.
I need more minds than mine on this. Grabbing my phone, I shoot off a text.
Me: I need help. Can we meet tonight?
Liam: Tell me when and where.
Ayla: Want to come here or want us to come to you?
Me: Here. When you can.
Neither Christian nor Ren reply, but knowing Ren, he’s already on his way. Lorenzo Gallo is former Army and was Ayla and Christian’s personal security, though he’s moved on. He’s still incredibly strategic and well-connected.
Of course, where Ayla goes, so goes Christian, so he’ll be here.
I take Eleanor out and wipe down the counters. I have no clue why, other than keeping my hands and mind busy. There’s not a speck of dust to be seen. Whoever Ayla hired did their jobs well.
Headlights wash the house as Christian’s expensive SUV pulls into the driveway. In quick succession, a Harley Davidson pulls up followed by an Indian Challenger.
I didn’t even know Ren had a bike.
Eleanor swishes her tail but keeps her seat as people begin filling the house.
I gesture to the kitchen though it’s pointless. It’s always where we gather. The living room is rarely used if there’s more than one visitor.
“What’s going on?” Christian asks, standing behind his wife who’s perched on a stool.
Ren takes the stool next to her, but Liam stands, leaning against the corner wall watching the gathered crew.
I pull out my phone and hit send on the group chat with the message I crafted while they were en route. It lines out what Sariah discovered on Liam’s cameras, what she’s been doing to address it, and my concerns for vulnerabilities.
