“My college roommate, Dylan. He was the one I told you about—the one who taught me how to code.” I shift uncomfortably on the couch. “He’s the reason I was able to develop Night Hunters so quickly.”
Her brows furrow. “Just how into computers is he, Jax?”
I take a deep breath. “He’s a hacker. Not only is he our best bet, but he’s the only one I know of who could take these guys out from the inside.”
“Ahacker?” she asks incredulously, eyes going wide. “Like, an actualcriminalhacker?”
“He prefers ‘digital security specialist,’” I say, using air quotes. “But yeah. He can trace where the message came from, maybe even get into their systems and delete the video completely.”
Clearly torn, she chews her bottom lip. “Isn’t that... illegal?”
“Very.” I shrug, not sugar-coating it. “But so is fucking blackmail.”
Running her hands through her hair, she tugs at the ends in frustration. “They’ve only given me seventy-two hours, Jax. How long do you think it’ll take him?”
“Not sure,” I admit. “But Dylan’s the best. If there’s anyone who can do it in the allotted time frame, it’s him.”
Sasha stands, wrapping her arms around her waist. The sight of her distress makes my blood boil. If I ever get my hands on her scumbag ex...
“What if he can’t find and get rid of it in time?” she asks, voice trembling. “What if they release it anyway? I don’t have a PR team at my disposal that can help make this go away.”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” Standing from the couch, I rest my hands gently on her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “Do you happen to have two million dollars just lying around?”
She barks out a humorless laugh. “Not liquid, no. I’d have to sell assets, pull from company accounts. It would devastate Summit Studio as a whole.”
“Then we don’t have much of a choice, do we?” I pull out my phone. “Let me call him. At the very least, he can tell us if this is something he can help with.”
Hesitating for only a moment, she gives me a small nod. “Okay.”
Pulling her into my arms, I kiss the top of her head and murmur, “That’s my girl.”
As I step away from her, she sighs, and I pace, scrolling through my contacts until I find Dylan’s number.
It’s been a while since we’ve spoken—probably six months—but that’s how it’s always been with us. We can go a yearwithout talking, then pick right back up where we left off as if no time has passed.
He answers on the third ring. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the tattoo king himself. What’s up, brother?”
Despite the seriousness of the current situation, I grin into the phone. “Hey, man. I need your help with something. It’s... time-sensitive.”
Silence breathes from the other end, and I can almost hear the gears turning in Dylan’s head. “What kind oftime sensitivesituation are we talking about, exactly?”
“Blackmail,” I reply simply.
I glance over at Sasha, still pacing nervously.
“Shit.” He blows out a breath. “Deets?”
Running my hand over my hair, I tug on the end of my flat ponytail. “Someone sent a text to... a friend of mine. Two million. Paid in seventy-two, or they’ll release a sex tape to TMZ.”
“Two mill?” Dylan whistles. “Shit. That’s big time. Who’s your friend? Anyone I’d know?”
I hesitate and look over at Sasha. Chewing her bottom lip, her eyes are wide with worry. “Sasha Garrett. Summit Studio.”
“The fitness empire queen? Damn, Jax.” There’s a hint of admiration in his voice. “You hitting that, or what?”
“Not the time, man,” I growl.
“Right, sorry.” Clearing his throat, I can hear him in the background as he starts typing furiously. “So whatcha need?”
