“Okay.” He twisted the taps off. “I’ll admit rule number one is just fucked.”
Jacob grabbed a towel from the rack and scrubbed his hair dry as he dripped his way back to the computer. The icon was flashing notification that he’d gotten a reply. He dried his hands on the towel, slung it around his neck, and flipped the e-mail open. He snorted to himself.
It was the first time anyone had ever asked to meet in a Starbucks, but whatever. Jacob could get a coffee, and with what Jacob had for him, the client might even pick up the tab.
Because, somewhat to Jacob’s surprise, it looked like the client’s suspicions were right. Devon Porterhadstolen from him first.
SOMEONE SOMEWHEREhad once done Harry Clayton the sartorial disservice of telling him to ditch the nerd wear. He was the sort of short, chubby guy who could pull off a meme T-shirt and a pair of dork glasses and make it look good. Instead he wore tailored suits with an air of resentment. Not sexy. Although Jacob was sure that the platinum card he had in his wallet made up for a lot of his flaws.
Although the fact he was too cheap to buy a contractor a coffee wasn’t in his favor. Jacob sat down in the narrow, hard-backed chair and sucked cold coffee and cinnamon cream through a straw. The sugar hit the back of his tongue and gave his brain a buzzing jolt.
“Mr. Clayton.”
Rather than responding, Harry folded his paper in half and pretended he was so absorbed in taking sparing sips of his black coffee that he didn’t notice the lanky blond who sat opposite him. Simon took his coffee black too, but at leasthedrank the stuff like he enjoyed it.
Jacob caught the tail end of the thought and smothered it. Irritation pricked at him. He didn’t usually spend so much time thinking about people hewasfucking, never mind ones he used to. Certainly not when he was working. It was hardly professional.
“Well?” Harry asked as he glanced up from the weather report and gave Jacob a quick, sidelong look. “You said you found something.”
Something made Jacob hesitate—the unhappy nagging feeling that twitched at the back of his brain like a kid tugging at his sleeve. He still couldn’t put his finger onwhatit was. Itdidoccur to him that it might be guilt, but he hoped not. So he tugged the square of cardboard out of his pocket and slid it over the table.
Harry covered it with his hand and slid it off the table. He glanced discreetly down and squinted as his contacts caught on the waterline of his lower eyelids.
“Doris Gallagher?” he said. “Who the hell?”
“There’s a QR code on the back.” Jacob sat back, hooked one leg up, and balanced his ankle on his knee. Since it was a business meeting, he’d made some effort with black trousers and a fitted black shirt. He drew the line at a tie. His clients liked to think he was abitdangerous. “Scan it, and you’ll get access to all the data I secured investigating your issue with Porter.”
Harry immediately reached for his phone and leaned away from the table as he dug his fingers into his pocket.
“Obviously.” Jacob drew the word out as he rattled the straw around his cup to mix in the cream. “That would be after you’ve paid the remainder of my fee, Mr. Clayton. Just a precaution.”
Suspicion made Harry scowl. “How can I trust you to deliver once you have the money?”
“Because I’m not a con artist,” Jacob said.
“You’re a thief.”
“I prefer Confidential Information Acquisitions,” Jacob said mildly, and he glanced around to see if anyone was listening. He nodded pleasantly at a woman sitting opposite who looked up from feeding crumbs to her baby to eye him suspiciously. “It sounds nicer, I can talk about it at parties, and it has a badass acronym. Mr. Clayton, I’m a contractor. If I didn’t deliver at the end of the project, I wouldn’t get hired again.”
Harry looked flustered for a second and then sighed. He set the paper down on the table and rubbed his hands over his face.
“I don’tdothis,” he said. “I’ve always done everything aboveboard, got all the permits, made sure my workers were receiving a living wage, paid the taxes to the penny my accountant tallied up for me. I leave pennies at tills. I’m not doing this to profit or to steal anything from Porter.He’sthe one that stole from me. All I want is proof that Devon Porter isn’t the genius everyone thinks he is.”
Jacob stretched an arm over the table and tapped the card with his finger. “That’s on here. And once you pay me, it’ll be yours. As far as I can tell, the code you gave me has been used on a variety of Porter’s projects over the last five years. Predominantly on something called Icarus.”
Harry took a deep breath, and his lips puffed as he let it out. “I didn’t want to believe it, but I should have known. That son of a bitch.”
He swiped his thumb over his phone screen and tapped information into the keypad. “See, Porter always thought he could just take what he wanted, because whatever he was doing was so important. Because I just run a social-media platform. He took my code, and he made me look like a fool—”
Harry’s low, angry mutter broke off, and he looked up. His forehead furrowed as he stared over Jacob’s shoulder. Instinct made Jacob turn to scan the half-empty coffee shop. The only thing out of place was a man at the counter, sucking sugar out of packets as he waited for his coffee.
“I know that car.” Harry grabbed his arm. His fingers dug into Jacob’s muscle, hard enough to bruise. “What happened? You turned me in to Porter to save your own ass? Did he offer you a better deal to sell me out? Well, fuck you. You think I can’t break your stupid encryption? That’s what Ido.”
Harry bolted to his feet, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and stuffed the business card into his pocket. As he shoved his way between the tables, he knocked Jacob’s coffee over, and the half cup of coffee splashed out over the table and Jacob’s knee. He cursed, grabbed a handful of napkins, blotted his wet knees, and made an abortive attempt to sop up the spill from the table.
It was pointless. Jacob dropped the sodden ball of tissue onto the table and grabbed his peacoat from the back of his chair as he chased after Harry. He caught the door as it swung to, and shouldered it open.
He shrugged his jacket on as he looked around for Harry and caught a glimpse of a broad back and a flying coat as it disappeared around a corner. Jacob followed and wove between the Christmas-present laden shoppers who filled the street. It slowed him down enough that, once he turned the corner, there was no sign of Harry.
