Men are inherently horny around beautiful women. And with a profile like hers, she had to know what kind of attention it would bring.
Maybe she wants that kind of attention?
No. I don’t think so. Her whole demeanor screams, “Stay the fuck away from me.”
I shoot another glance her way and she’s distracted, animatedly talking to Kyle.
Perfect.
I switch to my laptop and quickly hack her account. It doesn’t take long before I’m in, and I change all of her personal information and then her profile description. I make her sound like she’s a crazy person, and not just looking to get laid, and then I close out before she notices I’m up to no good. Not that she would. My composure is calm, cool, and collected from years of experience. But you can never be too sure.
I order my second mocha, and before I know it, it’s time to leave. I pack up my belongings with a rare smile on my face, and then make eye contact with Jordan one last time, giving my signature two-finger salute to say goodbye.
Once I’m out the door, I take in a fortifying deep breath.
Today is going to be a great day.
~ ~ ~
The ping on my phone thirty minutes into my drive to downtown San Diego has me on alert. I end up pulling over at the nearest gas station to open the text.
Happy Tails Pet Palace: You’re needed at the dog pound for your updated volunteer schedule.
Me: I’ll come straight from work.
That’s code for an impromptu meeting with the captain to debrief him on what I’ve found so far. This is the first meet-up he’s scheduled since I took this job, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.
I toss the phone in the cup holder of my blacked-out Escalade, a gift from the police impound lot, and pull back onto the highway.
I’ve been on assignment for the past four weeks with no breakthrough so far. This isn’t my first undercover job but it’s an important one. These things take time though and rushing could be detrimental to the case.
I’m more than used to being on an assignment for months at a time. The department has used me in the organized crime unit because I’m half Italian and half Mexican, and in the white-collar crime unit because I can blend in easily. I don’t have tattoos and I can speak multiple languages. This gives me a huge advantage when it comes to undercover work.
For this assignment, my buddy in San Diego, Luis Gomez, an undercover cop in narcotics, caught wind that an up-and-coming company was possibly working with the cartel. The police department decided they needed someone to infiltrate the company to see how big and far this connection goes, if at all, and he suggested me for the part. And, with the CFO’s bodyguard mysteriously going missing, it was the perfect opportunity for us to step in.
I came down from L.A. on a temporary assignment for this job. It isn’t unheard of for an undercover cop to cross jurisdiction, plus they needed someone completely unknown in the area. It didn’t hurt that at six foot three inches and two hundred pounds, I could easily pass as a bodyguard.
The task force assigned me to stay in Daybreak, only a forty-minute drive from downtown, but still in San Diego County, to make it seem like I’m a loner with no ties. It’s not ideal to be so far away from the company, but it gives me a little more room to breathe when I’m not in the field. On top of that, if anyone is following me, it will be easier to detect since the coastal town is so small.
It wasn’t hard for me to become the CFO’s new bodyguard. My “credentials” were top-notch, and with my fake background as an ex-marine with a shady past, I was hired not twenty-four hours after the initial in-person interview. It also helped that the I.T. guys who work for the task force sabotaged the other three candidates' resumes, making them look unreliable and incompetent according to their other employers.
What we know so far is that the company, Cahill Technologies, is legit. But it’s questionable how fast their finances have grown. That’s where I come in. It’s my job to follow the money and gain the trust of Emmett, the CFO, so he drops his guard, and I can find the link between Cahill Technologies and the cartel…if there even is one.
Emmett is the son of the CEO, William Cahill, and is a nepotism kid. From what we could find, he went to college for finance but only passed with average grades. His father immediately hired him to work for one of the six businesses he owned but he wasn’t the competent employee they thought he would be. He’s been moved around from each company over the past few years because they all ended up failing financially under his watch.
With this company though, it’s different. And the influx of money is something none of the previous companies have done in such a short amount of time. When Gomez made contact, alluding to the cartel being involved, it became an avenue for authorities to further investigate the company. The only problem is we need direct access to their finances to see where this all leads.
The thirty-five year old with a comb-over and slight belly shows up to work at eight-thirty AM every morning in his candy apple red Ferrari. He goes straight to his locked office to spend the day until I take him to any scheduled meetings, which are usually lunches with female escorts or scumbag businessmen. All who have checked out thus far. Emmett has yet to do anything shady under my watch, granted I’m not with him twenty-four-seven, but I’ve followed him and staked out his place whenever I can. The only crime he’s committed is wearing ugly ass suits to take his escorts to the club in.
Part of me wonders why the CFO of a company needs a bodyguard in the first place. I get that doing the financials for a multi-million-dollar company has its risks, but Emmett doesn’t seem like he’s in danger. Zero threats have come through to him, and nobody is holding stakes out front of the building with signs saying anything bad about the company.
He needs me, but for what?
It’s been requested that each morning I wait for Emmett next to the elevator in the parking garage to escort him up to the top floor of the building.
This morning is different though. His red Ferrari squeals into the garage and parks in the closest spot to the elevators. He gets out and without saying a good morning, he says, “We’re picking someone up and going to breakfast.”
He’s looking down at his phone, so I know he can’t see my eyes widen in shock and excitement.
