It was Ace who broke the tension. “I swear.” He shook his head. “I start my days in a good mood. But within ten minutes of being around all you heteros, I have a serious desire to kill someone.”
Emily ignored him, glaring at Dagan. “S-stop trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not trying to change the subject.” That was a lie. “I’m just pointing out that your accusing me of fighting with Chelsea to cover up the fact that I want to sleep with her is a little like the pot calling the kettle black.”
Now Emily’s cheeks were fire-engine red. “For the record”—she stole a quick look at Christian—“I fight with Christian becausesomeonehas to. It’s the only way to keep his ego in check.”
Christian’s eyebrows slammed into a scowl. “Bloody hell. How did this get turned on me?”
Before anyone could answer, their phones came to life. The combined sounds had Dagan’s spine going ramrod straight. Pulling his cell from his hip pocket, he thumbed on the screen. They had received a group text message from Chelsea, and a dizzying mess of emotions tumbled through him when he read her two simple words:I’m in.
Chapter 2
I’m in! I’m in! Take that, Dagan Zoelner!
Chelsea slid her cell phone into her pocket after sending the text and glanced around before pushing the door to Morrison’s office wider. At this time of the morning, the only staff members in Morrison’s fancy-schmancy Mayfair penthouse were her and Juanita Gonzalez, Morrison’s chef. But Chelsea still felt as if a thousand eyes were peering at her. When the door hinges creaked, she winced.
Toeing out of her kitten heels, she slipped into Morrison’s office. She’d only caught a few glimpses of the room over the past month, but they had been enough to familiarize herself with the layout. His large mahogany desk—and the laptop that was her ultimate target—were over by the west wall. Too bad that in order to get there, she’d have to pass a passed-out Morrison.
The clang of her heart in her chest was so loud, she was surprised the sound didn’t wake the sleeping man as she tiptoed across the room. She missed her shoes quite desperately. The hard marble tiles were cold enough to freeze the tits off a frog—one of her father’s favorite Southern-fried sayings, God rest his soul. And the frostiness seemed to slip through the soles of her feet and up into her body, turning her lungs into two blocks of ice.
Was Dagan right? Was she reallynotcut out for this kind of work? The fact that the room was spinning seemed to point toyes. Of course, not being able to breathe probably had something to do with her stupid frozen lungs.Damnit!
Tugging on the collar of her blouse, she forced herself to suck in a ragged breath. The air felt hard and sharp, but it was enough to crack the sheet of ice in her chest and make the room stop doing its best impression of a merry-go-round.
Better.She nodded to herself with satisfaction and crept farther into the room. When she passed the red leather sofa, she glanced down at the old man. He was still wearing the tuxedo he had changed into before she left yesterday. The smell of bourbon and cigars wafted up from him in a cloud so thick, she thought if she squinted she might be able to see it.
Apparently, the fund-raiser he’d gone to had turned into quite a party. Then again, everything Morrison was involved in eventually turned into a party. He acted like he was twenty-one, not seventy-one.
Lordy, he even had a mun—that would be aman bunfor the untrendy—like he was a hipster or some shit. Which, at his age, was pathetic enough. But the mun was made worse by the fact that his thinning white hair meant the little knot at the back of his head was no bigger than a cherry tomato.
Chelsea couldnotunderstand how his stylist let him out into the world looking like that. Then again, when you were a multibillionaire media mogul and a secret underworld crime boss, you did what you wanted and damn the naysayers.
And everyone else, come to think of it.
She took comfort in knowing that once she used the thumb drive sewn into the lining of her blazer to upload the virus, Morrison wouldn’t be damning anyone anymore. His “party boy” persona was just a ruse to cover up the true depths of his depravity. She was certain of this because sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t looking, she saw his lips thin, his eyes narrow, and an ugly look of malice would slide over his face. At those times, she felt she was seeing thetrueman.Spider…
Morrison’s mouth slid open, and out came a mighty snore that reminded her of her father’s ol’ bluetick coonhound—who’d had the uninspired name of Blue and was now buried beneath the willow in the backyard of her childhood home—and how the dog used to fall asleep on the front porch, snoring loud enough to wake up half the county. Only ol’ Blue had been a good boy. Roper Morrison on the other hand…
The thought hastened her journey across the room. After reaching her destination, she slid a hand inside her blazer and tugged a loose string in the lining. The thread unraveled, revealing the pouch that held the thumb drive.
If she’d thought her heart was racing before, now the damned thing was trying to break the land speed record. Every muscle in her body clenched, and her teeth threatened to explode beneath the pressure of her jaw. Closing her eyes and counting to three, she forced herself to relax and inserted the thumb drive into the USB port on the side of Morrison’s laptop.
Done!
Now, all that was left to do was wait. Wait as the program on the drive automatically booted up Morrison’s computer. Wait as it went through the algorithms necessary to break through the password. Wait as the virus began to upload. Just wait, wait, wwwwwait.
She hadn’t realized she’d curled her hands into tight fists until one of her nails pierced the skin of her palm. Sucking the sting away, she thought of Dagan. No doubt about it, henevergot this nervous. He was Mr. Calm-Cool-and-Collected. And if he could see her now, he’d shake his head and say,I told you so.
Well, he could take his I-told-you-so’s and shove them where the sun never shined. John Wayne supposedly said once that true courage was being scared to death and saddling up anyway.
So…giddyup.
She glanced over at Morrison, happy to see him still out cold and sawing logs. Then a flash on the screen drew her attention to the computer. The virus was in, and the laptop powered down.
It’s done!
A ragged breath leaked out of her, and she gave herself a second to fully appreciate the magnitude of what she’d accomplished. Then she quickly unplugged the drive, slipped it back into its hidey-hole inside her blazer, and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She texted two words to the group at the flat:Virus loaded.She thought about addingbooyah,but ultimately decided against it.
