Santa's Pet (26 page)

“Grandpa and Ben.” Nash stepped forward, removing the cowboy hat prop he went around in. “Glad you’re both here.”

“Actually, I have to get back home and buy groceries,” Ben said to his grandfather. “Is there anything you want? What’s on the allowed shopping list?”

“Don’t leave yet,” Nash said. “I’ll help you pick some things up along the way.”

“I don’t need your help.” Ben tried damn hard to keep the hiccup out of his voice. He lowered his head so Nash couldn’t observe his watery eyes and brushed by him to the door. “Bye, Grandpa. I’ll be back early to help you check out tomorrow.”

Barely glancing in his grandfather’s direction, he slipped into the corridor. He was almost to the parking lot, when Nash jogged to his side.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, Brittney ended our friendship.”

“She what?” Hot and cold chills scratched the back of Ben’s neck. “She said she’d never do that. That you’re too important for her.”

Nash stepped aside and rubbed the back of his neck. “That was before I acted like an ass.”

“What did you do?” Ben’s muscles tightened, on instant alert.

“Made a move on her. Whoa, wait. Her sister was there.” Nash held up his hands and ducked. “No hitting in the hospital.”

At least his worst case scenario hadn’t played out, but why would his own brother betray him like that, and then come to boast about it?

“You’re upset,” Nash said.

“Shocked. I never made moves on any girl you or Damon tagged.”

“That’s because you’re the baby brother.” Nash shrugged. “I really wasn’t that into Brittney. I just couldn’t let you win.”

Ben swung his fist and choked the hit at the last second, stopping right before he connected with Nash’s pretty boy face. He couldn’t keep using violence if he wanted Brittney back.

“Good choice.” Nash smirked, stepping back. “You lost Brittney all by yourself. Lacy told me on the way to Grandpa’s house how strong Brittney is. She’d rather have nobody than compromise her beliefs. You’re not going to get anywhere with all your bluster and fighting.”

Ben shoved his hands into his pockets to control himself.

“So, now that you know, what’s stopping you from going back to Brittney?” Nash hooked his fingers in his belt loops and rocked on his heels.

“I can’t ever forget what the two of you did.” Ben’s heart clenched inside his ribcage. He was so close to getting what he wanted. Brittney had ended her friendship with Nash, but it didn’t change the fact that Nash had been inside of her first.

“Look, I don’t see Brittney as anything more than a friend. It was a convenience thing. She had an apartment and I needed a place to stay without paying.”

“Please … no more information.” Ben’s shoulders tensed and he clenched every muscle in his body. That wasn’t how Brittney had portrayed it. She’d actually wished Nash would care for her.

“Can we forget this ever happened? Right now, she’s not interested in either of us.” Nash put his palm up and shook his head. “You’re my brother. We’re not going to fight over a woman. You should have called it, but you were never interested in her, so how could I have known?”

He couldn’t have known. Of course, Brittney didn’t belong to either of them—like an arranged bride. No, she was her own woman and free to express herself sexually to anyone.

As for Nash, no matter what a douche he was, he was still his brother. Family.

Except he wanted to pound him flat. Ben took a deep breath and pushed Nash, not hard. “Half of me wants to kick your ass for taking my woman, and the other half of me knows I’m a fool. She’s not mine and will never be.”

“Why don’t you call her and explain how you feel?” Nash shrugged as if it were the easiest thing in the world for him to do. “I saw the earrings you gave her. She’s obviously the one for you.”

Ben’s heart twisted at how much he’d hurt Brittney, leading her to believe he loved her, giving her the earrings and making plans for the future, only to act as if it meant nothing. He’d put his heart and soul into making love to her, and he’d felt it too, until he screwed it up with his fear of losing her. The price of love was grief, and he wasn’t sure he could pay it again—not after losing his mother and baby sister.

Except he was paying for it now, in spades. Ben groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I wish there was something I could do for her that’ll make me look as good as you.”

“Why don’t you help with the benefit concert to raise money for her legal fees?”

“I already offered to pay. She’s not having it. See? She accepts help from you and not from me.”

Nash always made him feel inferior, even when he wasn’t trying.

“Then surprise her. You know football players, right?”

“I know a few.” Ben wasn’t sure where Nash was leading. Even if he helped with the benefit concert, Nash would still get all the credit from Brittney’s point of view.

“Great. I’ll need a few celebrity endorsements. I’ve already put up the ads, set the publicity machine in motion. We’re starting the Anti-Slut-Shaming or A.S.S. campaign and could use some video clips of celebrities against slut-shaming to play at the concert.”

Ben couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from his lips. “Ass sounds right. Sure. I can probably get some of my former teammates on board.”

“Of course you can. And you know what? Us guys should be anti-slut-shaming asses, because we love girls who love sex, don’t we?”

“Uh, yes. I guess.” Ben wasn’t sure how getting a few football players to do video clips would help him get Brittney back. He had to do something bigger than Nash.

“Great.” Nash clapped an arm around him. “Hey, we Powers boys gotta stick together. We’re already big asses, so A.S.S. is the right cause for us to support.”

“Especially if it helps Brittney and her legal fees.” Ben pasted on a grin, even as he cast in his mind for something to upstage Nash.

“Cool, let’s do it.” Nash tipped his hat and suddenly, Ben knew why he was a country super-star and celebrity. Charm and the ability to forgive. That and not holding grudges.

“Thanks, Bro.”

~ Brittney ~

Days go by with no news from Ben. At least Nash texted me on Friday to let me know they had taken his grandfather home to the sprawling farmhouse. He says Grandpa’s doing well, getting help with his diet and exercise and recovering slowly.

I didn’t bother asking Nash how Ben was doing. Ben knows where to find me, and if he doesn’t care to contact me—wants to pretend we have nothing to do with each other, then I’m certainly not going to be the one groveling for his attention.

Instead, I’ve been glued to my laptop, trying to trap the hacker. I lost my best chance a few days back when they’d opened the hole. I almost had the worm uploaded. Now I can’t even get back in. Could someone have tipped off the hackers? Since they shut Samantha’s tunnel, it definitely has to mean something—either she’s guilty or someone who’s been to her apartment went back and closed the hole.

I’m pissed now. Sean Rodgers, my security guy, isn’t doing anything useful. I punch his number on my cell phone.

“Hey, Britt, how’s it going?” His voice is as jocular and carefree as a beach bum surfer. Doesn’t he give a shit about the security breaches and the lawsuit?

“How’s it going? I should ask you. What happened to your security audit? How was it you never caught the hacker coming into our network? Did you know someone was tunneling into Samantha’s router?”

“Sorry, I can’t talk to you about this. Marlena’s the boss and she says you’re the one doing the hacking. We caught an intrusion from your IP address last week.”

“I was trying to figure out who the hell hacked in.”

“Yeah, well, explain it to Marlena.” His voice is still lackadaisical. I can picture him sitting in the bullpen with his feet on the table, scratching his stinky pits.

“Tell her she should be nailing the real hackers.” I end the call, wishing like hell I could throw my phone at the wall.

So, I hit a dead end. So my life is in shambles. So I have no friends, not Nash, not Sean, not even Samantha.

I’m just going to have to be more clever about this. Think. Think. Think. I tap my keys and go through my notes on last year’s hack job. Someone had to have left a hole. Is my honeypot still set up? I’m not sure anyone took it down. Would the hackers be stupid enough? I log into my walled garden network and root around. It sure looks like no one has cleaned it up. From there, I might be able to hop back into Shopahol and continue with my investigation.

I must have been deep in the code for hours, because when I look up, it’s evening. I just finished planting traps for the hacker, loads of interesting looking purchases from fake customers that sound like movie stars, politicians, and athletes. Now, all I have to do is wait for the hacker to step into the trap. When he or she opens the fake customer profiles and attempts to hijack the data, my tracker will log all their activity, including tracing them to their MAC address, the one that uniquely identifies their network interface card.

My apartment door thumps and the aroma of barbeque wafts toward me. It’s my pregnant sister who’s now in the food delivery business. Today’s haul, pulled pork sandwiches and steak fries.

“You still at this?” Lacy drawls as she places the greasy paper bags in front of me. “I’m lucky I’m eating for two, but what’s your excuse?”

“Have hackers to catch.”

“How about a hunky football player? Why aren’t you out catching him?”

“He knows where to find me. I’m not the one with misplaced priorities.”

“If you say so.”

The logs go across my screen. Is no one at work, or has the hacker given up? If so, I may never find him, and I’ll forever look like the guilty one.

“Eat, eat.” Lacy peels open a foil wrapped pulled pork sandwich, which has my mouth watering.

I can’t remember the last time I ate. I can’t even remember the date. As long as I keep my mind on catching the hacker, I won’t have to think of anyone else—least of all He Who Shall Not Be Mentioned. Except every time I try not to think of him, my mind floods with memories, images, scents, and tastes of him.

I bite into the sandwich and watch the screen.

“I’m getting tired of you ignoring me,” my sister says. “Look at you. Have you slept? Washed your hair? Gone outside? You’re going to get blood clots sitting here all day long.”

Her words flow over me like pieces of confetti. I need to not think about anything. Not care about my appearance. Not go out. Not feel my heartbeat. Not live. Because if I’m honest with myself, I’m hurt badly. I stopped counting the days, the hours, the minutes waiting for him to call me, text me, or visit. He knows where I live. He knows how to get ahold of me, but he chooses to pretend I don’t exist. How could I have been so wrong and thought he cared for me?

I touch the earrings to reassure myself they’re still dangling. Why’d he give them to me if I mean so little to him?

Suddenly, lines and lines scroll onto the screen. Someone is accessing the fake customer profiles, and it’s coming from within the company.

“Snagged!” I pump my fist at the flashing computer screen. “I got him. Look, Lacy, look. He’s opening the bomb I planted. I’ve got the socket, the port, the MAC address. Snagged by my bomb!”

“Snagged juicy bomb,” the cockatoo, Big Blizzard, cheers from the cage. “Hello!”

“Yes! Snagged! Woohoo!” I jump up from my chair and dance around the kitchen table.

“That’s great,” Lacy says. She goes to Big Blizzard’s cage and says, “Say, ‘Brittney loves Ben.’”

Is this all my sister can think about at a momentous time like this? “I got the hacker! Who cares about Ben?”

“
You
do.” She munches on a steak fry and feeds the rest of it to the bird. “Brittney loves Ben.”

“Bree-ney love Ben. Arck!” the dumb bird repeats.

“How about ‘Brittney is Santa’s Pet?’” Lacy suggests. “Santa’s Pet.”

My mood is too good to let my sister sabotage it. I rub my hands together as the seconds tick by. “They should be closing the hole any minute now.”

The FBI had promised to secure the network as soon as they snatched the culprits. I keep my eyes on the rolling log, waiting, waiting.

It stops moving, and the last message says,
Good job, Brittney Reed. Congratulations from Marlena Morley.

“Marlena Morley!” both me and my sister exclaim.

I stare at Lacy and she stares back.

“Did you really catch the hacker or is she the hacker thumbing her nose in your face?” Lacy asks.

“I have no idea.” I call my FBI contact.

“We’re sending someone to your place to pick up your laptop and confirm the kill,” the agent says.

“Is Marlena the hacker?” I tell him about the cryptic message.

“No. Marlena is the agent hunting a gang of notorious and dangerous hackers. We now have the evidence and caught them red-handed. Good job, Miss Reed,” the contact says.

While I’m on the call with the FBI, Lacy receives a call from Brandon.

She taps me on the shoulder. “Brandon just called. He’s on his way over here. He’s happy we caught the hacker.”

“Does he know who it is?” I ask after hanging up with the FBI agent who refused to tell me more.

She puts her phone on speaker. “Did you know Marlena’s an FBI agent?”

“Of course I did,” Brandon says. “I stepped away to let her in so the hackers wouldn’t suspect anything. I was onto them, but let them believe they framed me and got Jewell’s wind up.”

“Who?” I can’t catch my breath. “Is it someone we know?”

“Actually, it is,” Brandon says. “I’m right outside your apartment. Is Lacy sitting?”

“Uh, yes, but what’s going on?” I march to my door and open it.

Brandon taps to hang up. He walks toward Lacy and hugs her, kissing her lightly on the lips.

She pushes him. “Who? Why should I be sitting down?”

“Sit. Both of you.”

I cast in my mind. “It can’t be Mom or Dad. They don’t know anything about computers. Samantha’s safe since she was at work when the hackers accessed the tunnel. Ben doesn’t know anything about computers. Grandpa Powers? I can’t think of anyone else we know who has a motive.”

Brandon presses Lacy onto the sofa and puts his arm around her. Okay, so, it might be someone Lacy knows. Could it be Jazzy, her friend with the escort service?

“Samantha’s being arrested right now,” Brandon says.

“Sammie? Our Sammie?” I stand, my hands flapping in panic. “That’s wrong. She was at work when the hacker used her username and tunneled into the code.”

“True, but she can’t prove she wasn’t in cahoots with them.”

“What about that guy she was sleeping with?”

“Which one?” Brandon nails me with narrowed eyes. “Are you saying you knew what was going on?”

“No, I was only at her apartment to set up the tunnel. His nickname was something like ‘Back Door.’”

“Doesn’t help to narrow them down that way. She slept with the entire gang,” Brandon says. “‘Big Dog,’ ‘Back Door,’ ‘Full Chat,’ ‘Nut Cracker,’ and ‘Fender Buff.’ ‘Handle Down’ was Dex Steele, who’s doing time in San Quentin. You remember him?”

“Uh yes.” Dex was the guy who tricked me last year by pretending to have a crush on me when all he wanted was to get into my encryption modules and frame me for attacking TrophyShots, another social media sharing site.

“So, Mitch Slack isn’t one of them?” Mitch is TrophyShot’s CEO and I had thought the guy with Samantha was him.

“Nope. Scrappers is not Mitch’s club,” Brandon clarifies.

“But why did Samantha do this? I gave her the job. Every opportunity.” I slam my fist onto the table. “She’s my cousin.”

“She’s pleading innocence,” Brandon says. “She’s a recent grad, and she did some stupid things, but she claims she had no knowledge.”

“Then she must have had help. Who are the rest of the guys? Who’s ‘Big Dog?’” I can’t believe Samantha did this on her own. Someone stupid enough to leave her router management password in plain view is stupid, but not devious, unless she left it there to make her seem innocent. Hmmm …

Brandon rubs his chin and averts his gaze. Somehow he’s not comfortable telling us. Could ‘Big Dog’ be ‘Big Ben?’ Or Grandpa Powers?

“Is a basset hound considered a big dog?” I blurt, my heart cracking into pieces. “Why would Ben do this to me and then pretend he cared enough to take me away from the mess? Is he ‘Big Dog’?”

And if he is, does this mean he also slept with Samantha?

“Big Dog,” the cockatoo yells. “Big Blizzard. Big Dog.”

“Wait, who’s bird was he before he was put up for adoption?” I march to Big Blizzard’s cage. “Who’s your owner?”

“We can find out who gave him up,” Lacy says. “It can’t be Grandpa Powers. He’s computer illiterate. Where are the records for Ragamuffin’s Rescue?”

“I have them somewhere. I run their website.” I scramble to my laptop, but Brandon clamps his hand over my shoulder.

“No need. It’s your security chief, Sean Rodgers.”

All the air in my lungs leak from my mouth. Relief that it’s not Ben. Disgust at myself for thinking he’d sleep with Samantha and screw my network, and disappointment at myself for not suspecting Sean Rodgers.

“Sean? Stinky Sean?” I slap both sides of my head. “What’d he do, leave a trail?”

“Oh, my, he must have left some smelly footprints,” Lacy joins in and kicks her heels on the coffee table, holding her stomach with laughter.

“Talk about leaving bread crumbs, they must have been stale.” I can’t help but join in. It’s such a relief it’s not Ben or Grandpa Powers.

“Juicy Melons!” Big Blizzard yells. “Juicy Melons. Breast Ben fits.”

“Wait. That’s the password on the router,” I exclaim. “Juicy Melon Breasts.”

“So, Big Blizzard was Sean’s bird?” Lacy shrieks hysterically. “Why’d he give him away?”

“Big Blizzard talks!” the bird crows with his characteristic head bob. His feathers stand straight up and he flaps his wings, stirring up dirt. “Talk too much!”

“High five,” Lacy says. “You caught the hackers and got your company back.”

“That remains to be seen,” I say. “Dave and Jen might blame me for bringing Samantha in. I thought I could trust her. I can’t believe she slept with the entire motorcycle club, especially Stinky Sean.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, that’s only what they said about her in their instant messages. You know how guys are.” Brandon levels an apologetic gaze at me.

Lacy elbows him. “Seriously? Not all guys. I bet neither you or Ben would drag some woman’s name in the mud by claiming she slept with the entire motorcycle gang.”

“It’s up to her attorney to sort it out,” Brandon says. “And thanks for your vote of confidence. You know I never sleep and talk.”

“No, you don’t talk in your sleep.” She snaps her fingers. “Shucks.”

“If I did, you’d only hear your name.” He slants his face into hers and before I can count to one, he and my sister are lip-locked, smooching and making all sorts of sickening cooing noises.

I walk to the birdcage and let Big Blizzard out. “Sorry Stinky Sean was so bad to you. At least I have you now.”

“Juicy Ben!” he squawks and sidesteps up my arm to perch on my shoulder. “Big juicy Ben fits.”

~ Ben ~

“Come on, Treat.” Ben dangled a leash. “Get your lazy butt off the floor.”

Grandpa had stubbornly come home and driven away the home health aide. He insisted he could take care of himself, but he still needed help going in and out of the bathroom as well as taking a shower. The wound was healing well, but looked gruesome. They’d wired his breastbone back together and glued the skin. Nash was in charge of cooking healthy food, and Ben found himself with exercise duty.

“You, too, Grandpa. Gotta get your walk in.” Ben helped his grandfather from his recliner. “Up you go.”

Grandpa groaned and shuffled toward the parson’s bench to put on his shoes.

The basset hound also groaned and waddled toward the leash. Ben rubbed the dog’s loose skin and attached the leash to his collar.

“Let’s go,” Ben said to the lazy dog. “Let’s take you to do doggie things, like sniff, pee, and scratch.”

“And I gotta go do manly things like spit, pee, and scratch,” Grandpa said. “I’m not going to that assisted living center. No way, no how.”