Chapter Ten
The aroma of curried shrimp seduces me at the kitchen table as Melanie flurries about as if she’s cooked here a thousand times before.
Kavon sits beside me, typing on his laptop at the table, doubly irritated with us at this point. He’d searched every crevice of the bathroom when he stormed in earlier, searching for evidence that we’re “up to something.” And Melanie only made it worse by taking the mickey out of him. Kavon doesn’t like being mocked.
And now, after hours of waiting obediently for Jaxon to return, Melanie—against Kavon’s barked warnings—is in the kitchen whipping up dinner, and Kavon is sulking about it. Because he is the cook of the house, and the kitchen is his sacred ground—his words. But Melanie couldn’t care less.
Eduardo has circled through the kitchen every ten minutes or so, watching the pot, as seduced as I am by the aroma.
As Melanie starts to get dishes out to set the table, Jo all but drags herself into the kitchen, her laptop balancing precariously on one hand. Her appearance is drained, defeated, and…come to think of it, I can’t recall seeing her eat as much as a mint all day.
She collapses in a chair on the other side of Kavon, carelessly drops the laptop down to the table, and proceeds to bang her head against the wood. After much forehead torture, she lifts her head, leans in close to Kavon and says with a worrisome undertone, “I can’t get it done, Kav. It’s like…it’s like my brain is on lockdown, or something. He wants something new and fresh, but my head just isn’t there right now. He’s gonna get rid of me, isn’t he?”
Kavon’s features soften as he lifts a hand to squeeze the back of her neck. “Hey, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t the best.” He shrugs. “Have you been on top of your game lately? To be honest, no. You’ve been too distracted with all that skirt chasing. You gotta learn to balance it out, babe. Gotta make sure your fun doesn’t affect your work. Talk to him when he gets back. Tell him you need more time. He’ll understand.”
“While our security is compromised?” she returns, unconsoled. “I don’t think so.”
Kavon’s eyes flick to me. He sees me watching them and stops talking.
Melanie slides me a surreptitious glance. She heard them, too. Nonetheless, Jaxon is absent, so it’s pointless to show up Jo at this juncture.
Yet, to my surprise, Melanie turns and says, “I peeked. The codes you’re using would’ve been brilliant a year ago. But technology is like it’s never been before—hacking and breaching are at an all-time high. Thus, coding and encryptions are becoming more and more…innovative by the hour. You think you’ve created something foolproof tonight, but then it’s all cocked-up by morning. Blows your mind.”
If looks could burn, Melanie would be roasted. “Mind your own business, dweeb. And what the hell do you know, anyway?”
“I know,” Melanie says smugly, “that if you take over dishing out this food, I can code up an original overhaul in less than fifteen minutes.”
Eduardo, who happens to be making another round through the kitchen at that moment, whistles.
Jo’s mouth opens and closes, and her dark eyes narrow in suspicion. “That’s impossible.”
Not if we already have a handy backlog of codes. Codes we’ve never used. Codes we’ve used for a short time and moved on to something better. Codes far superior to anything that’s already out there. Superior to anything Jo could ever dream up. We do this for fun, remember? We have ideas and codes we’ve tossed aside that we could sell and make millions.
That said, coding isn’t Melanie’s strong suit, it’s mine. So, she’ll be expecting me to clue her into which code to use. Her memory is nothing like mine, so she’ll have to go to our highly secured cloud and copy it.
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she rounds the table to Jo’s chair. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to take credit. Just saving your arse.” She knocks on the back of the chair. “Get. Go feed yourself and your fellow thieves. I don’t think I’ve seen you drink a glass of water all day.”
Jo doesn’t move, though the hostility has somewhat faded from her body language. “What do you care?”
“About your arse?” Melanie leans down and puts her mouth to Jo’s ear. “How about I whisper that bit to you later, huh?”
Jo frowns, trying to figure out her motives.
Good luck with that. Because… Hell and damnation, so am I.
What on earth is Mel doing? I thought the plan was to convince Jaxon to let her audition for replacing Jo. He’s not even here. So why is she volunteering to help, and promising not to take credit? And is flirting with Jo?
Melanie waits for Jo’s response.
So do Kavon, Eduardo, and I.
They engage in an intense stare-off, until—surprise of all surprises—Jo breaks first.
Wow, she must really be worried Jaxon will give her the boot.
She stands, steps aside, and waves a hand to the laptop. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”
As Melanie sits, her triumphant eyes flick to me. Cue for the clue. I mentally filter through the available code and choose one with a setup that is good but not too complicated for a house of grifters.
Casually flipping through a recipe book sitting on the kitchen counter, I mouth, “Gemini,” to the pages.
Mel gets it. And she gets to work.
Thirteen minutes and forty-four seconds later, she is done.
She makes this known by setting off all the alarms in the house, grinning as she mutters her final steps, “Hack, disengage.” The alarms quiet. “Override. Reset. Reactivate in one hour.” She glances up. “Verification emails sent.”
At once, Jo, Kavon, and Eduardo’s phones go off.
Setting down my fork, I cross my arms and watch as Mel stands, stretches, and walks over to the stove.
All three thieves abandon their half-eaten meal of curried shrimp masala and basmati rice to check their phones.
“How’d you get our email addresses?” Kavon demands.
“Mate, put me in front of a computer and I can steal your whole life.”
“Thumbprint verification?” murmurs Eduardo.
“Yep,” Mel says over her shoulder as she portions food onto a plate. “Emails with instructions have also gone out to Jaxon and Collin. I completely overrode the system here. The activation won’t set until all five of you have thumbed in. Once that happens, you’ll receive another email with a link to download an unlocking app. The system here will register your prints and the new setup will be fully activated in an hour.”
They all just stare at her.
“Now, if you prefer keyless, hassle-free access,” she continues, “this setup will be most convenient if you all get an iWatch and download the app to it. Easy, one-touch access that will work up to one hundred feet away from the door. But you can also use your cell phone or any other mobile device. All you have to do is open the app and thumb yourself in.”
“Wait,” Jo says cautiously. “Is this a third-party app? Because we don’t—”
“No, it’s our own app. As in, mine and Tim’s. We created it a while back, but never bothered with it. It happens to be perfect for this system, though, so I coded it in. Now it’s exclusively yours.” She grabs a glass and goes to the fridge.
They all look like a row of owls sitting at the table.
“You can read the rest of the email about the bonus of impenetrable protection for your devices and security cameras. How to deactivate the alarms, etcetera,” she says, and adds proudly, “Nobody does firewall like Tim.”
“Cool,” Kavon mumbles with an impressed nod of his head.
Jo shakes hers. “Jaxon will know I didn’t do this.”
“Does it matter?” Melanie asks as she pulls out a chair across from me. “If he gives you a task it shouldn’t matter how you got it done, as long as you got it done. Or?”
Jo looks to Kavon, and he tips his head to the side and shrugs, as if to say, “She has a point.”
Mel shoves a forkful of rice into her mouth. “If you promise to stop being such a grumpy twat, I can teach you how to be half as good as I am.”
Jo makes a face. “Why’re the both of you so fucking obnoxious?”
“And fucking smart,” I point out. “We’re smartly obnoxious.”
Melanie nods. “So true.”
“All right,” Jo begrudgingly agrees. “I’ll admit I’ve been slacking off lately, and it’s been a while since I wrote anything new. Today’s been a wake-up call. I guess I can…adjust my attitude if you bring me up to speed on all this new shit, and promise not to take credit for it.”
“I won’t.” Melanie looks up. “If I do, Jaxon will know you’re not the best and replace you. I wouldn’t want that.”
What the what? That’s exactly what we want!
How can she just change the plan without giving me a bloody hint?
Conversation falls to a minimum after that, save for low mumbles between Melanie and Jo. Jo, who is suddenly all kind smiles and amicable touch. In the time I’ve been here, I have never seen her like that. Not even with her teammates.
Following a loud belch, Eduardo says, “That’s some good cooking, mami.”
Mel acknowledges the compliment with a smile.
“I feed you every damn day and you’ve never given me so much as a thank you,” Kavon says, offended.
“Uh-oh, Eddie,” I tease. “Looks like you just got someone’s knickers all bunched up.”
“Why you mad, hombre?” Eduardo laughs, holding his hands out. “She’s a guest in our house. I’m just being polite.”
“Wow,” Melanie says. “If he’s getting this bent over some simple shrimp masala, I wonder how he’s going to be when I cook my well-acclaimed pot roast tomorrow…”
“I’m not—”
“Did you know that shrimps dance?” I cut in.
Everyone stops and looks at me. They blink.
“It’s true,” I go on. “They wave their antennae in a little dance to attract fishes. Like flirting. Get this. There are one hundred and twenty-eight species of shrimp! The dancing shrimps, also dubbed cleaning shrimp, will sometimes cruise right inside a fish’s open mouth to remove bloodsucking parasites. How ace is that, right? But not more ace than the snapping shrimp. They dwell among the coral and protect them from predators. I mean, the noise they make with their snapping claws is louder than a bloody gunshot! Sometimes Navy submarines actually hide in beds of snapping shrimp to cover their location from sonar detection.”
I smile.
All except Melanie give me quizzical stares. Mel is accustomed to my random blurts of info dump, so she just forks the last piece of shrimp into her mouth.
“What on earth does all that have to do with anything?” Jo asks no one in particular.
Kavon and Eduardo give off deep chuckles.
“Excellent work, Jo.” This comes from a voice not seated at the table. A voice we’ve been waiting on for over twelve hours. A voice that sends sweet chills down my spine and toe-curling sensations to my nipples.
All laughter stops. All heads turn. One breath is held.
Jaxon stands in the archway to the kitchen, Collin lingering behind him.
The pajama bottoms Collin rushed out in this morning have been replaced with navy slacks and a red button-down. Either these people drive around with extra outfits, or they went shopping.
Neither man looks worn out—not from sun, humidity, overthinking, or activity. In fact, they look rejuvenated, as if returning from a day at the spa.
“Um, uh…” Jo clears her throat, shifts a side glance to Mel, finds her blank and uninterested, then looks back to Jaxon. “Thanks.”
Jaxon points to Melanie, and then to me. “You two, come with me.”
“About bloody time,” Melanie mutters as she pushes to her feet and stretches.
I hesitate to follow. Mainly because Melanie has deviated from the plan without a heads-up, and I hate walking blindly into things. But she doesn’t stop so I can ask her what’s up, so I decide to just go on and be, well, me.
In a few strides, we are in Jaxon’s office—or whatever this room is.
Mel and I plop down into the two chairs in front of the desk while Jaxon stands beside it, his hands loose in his pockets.
“No more beating around the bush,” he says. “You’re both here for something. What is it?”
Like a kid in class, my hand shoots up in the air, fingers wiggling.
Jaxon half-sighs, half-groans. “Timber?”
“I just want to point out that I was drugged—twice—and brought here against my will. So, the real question is what do you want from me? Also, I would like to purchase some knickers that aren’t shear, thongs, or open crotch, please. Collin’s taste is bit too wild and risqué for me.”
Jaxon takes a breath as if to respond, but then just heaves out a puff of air instead. He looks to Melanie. “What do you want?”
“Me? I’ve got plenty of salacious knickers, thank you very much. I’m just here to join the Unseen.”
At this, Jaxon’s head jerks back. “Excuse me?”
I shoot my hand up again.
“Timber, you don’t need to…” He trails off and pinches the bridge of his nose, motioning with his other hand for me to go ahead.
“Just an opinion here, but I think the name the Unseen is lame. Will you be open to a name change when Mel makes the team? To something like”—I make a dramatic gesture with my hands—“Specters? Or, uh, Zero Evidence?”
“Zero Evidence?” Melanie giggles. “Really, Tim?”
I shrug. “Well, it’s a lot better than the Unseen.” I make air quotes and a disgusted face.
“What do you mean you’re here to join us?” Jaxon breaks in, ignoring my sarcasm. “How did you learn about us? Who are you, and what makes you think you’re qualified? Blowing doors off, lighting firecrackers, and making a scene is not what we do.”
“Bypassing your security and blowing your door off was just my first audition,” Melanie says, unperturbed. “How I know about you to begin with is what makes me qualified. If you seek further qualification, why don’t you go ahead and check those impeccably concealed bugs you have in the kitchen? The fact that your team doesn’t even know you’re spying on them, yet I’ve been here less than a day and I sniffed it out, should be more than enough qualification.”
Wait, what? Ohhhhh. That explains Melanie’s inexplicable careen from our initial plan.
“Mel,” I murmur as I turn and brace on the chair arm, “you promised her you wouldn’t take credit.”
“I know,” she said, never taking her eyes off Jaxon. “Just more auditioning for his ears. He’ll understand, and he won’t let on to her that he knows. Besides, if he tells her, I’ll have to tell he’s been snooping on them. And that will only drive a huge wedge between them all where trust is concerned.”
I cringe inwardly. Damn, she’s good.
Jaxon doesn’t respond.
As good as I am at reading people, there is no breaking through that impassive barrier. He’s too adept at hiding himself. My inability to discern his thoughts infuriates me and arouses me at the same time.
Cool and detached, his unreadable eyes slide to me.
And stay on me.
At first I shrink into myself, but then I sit up straighter, jutting my chin out. I can’t let him intimidate me with those eyes.
But is it intimidation, though? Or is it…twisted seduction?
“Oh, you want Tim’s qualifications, too?” Melanie asks at his prolonged fixation on me.
Jaxon still doesn’t break his stare.
I fidget with my glasses. Partly because it’s starting to get to me…in a sexual way. Not good.
I blurt out, “I can steal a hundred thousand dollars from you in under ten minutes.”
This gets double eyebrow lifts from Jaxon…which is huge coming from him. “Explain yourself.”
“Well, I’m going to need a computer and the name of a bank you have an account with. An account that has at least one hundred thousand dollars in it.”
Jaxon doesn’t even blink. “You serious?”
“You either want her qualifications or you don’t, mate,” Melanie chips in, sounding bored and impatient.
Jaxon looks at her, and back at me, then at her again, before he waves me around to his desk and pulls out the massive, über-comfy wingback chair for me to sit in.
He glances at his watch. “Ten minutes.”
I get to work. I open a browser, hack it, and insert my coding.
He gives me the name of the bank when I ask for it. Using the hacked browser, I go to the online banking site and activate my coding.
Within three minutes and two seconds, the code successfully imitates the website, word for word, icon for icon, everything legit—well, the fake kind of legit. Once it’s done, a green box with a blinking cursor pops up.
Without looking up, I prompt Jaxon for his email address associated with the account. He hesitates for a second, but then rattles it off. I enter his email address and hit send.
Seconds later, his cell phone chirps from his pocket. He pulls his phone out, taps across the screen, reads for a few seconds, then looks at me. “This is an email from the bank saying someone tried to hack my account and advising I change my password to protect it.”
I sit back and pout. “Well, hell, it seems Scooby-Doo busted me before I could get in. Better change your password to protect that dough.”
Melanie giggles.
Jaxon is unamused. He changes his password.
Has the man not seen Blackhat?
Minutes later, all his information pings right back to me.
Damn, I’m good.
I rub my hands together in giddy glee and open up a fresh, uncorrupted browser, navigate to the authentic online banking site, enter his original password, and voilà, I’m in!
In another couple of minutes, I’ve transferred a hundred thousand from his account to mine. Of course, the transfer will take a day or two to complete. Therefore, I change the password to his account for real this time, so he can’t get in to stop it.
Job done, I sit back, look up at him, and give him an angelic smile.
His mouth opens, but on cue, his phone chirps in his hand. I watch him open the email, relishing the stifled surprise in his eyes. “A wire transfer receipt.”
“Ta-da!” Melanie exclaims, giving me a proud wink.
A mystified head shake from Jaxon. “Explain.”
“See, it wasn’t the bank that emailed you at first. It was me.”
“Figured that much.”
“I designed a code that can accurately mimic any website, that can trick you into believing it’s the real deal. My code copies the email addy the bank uses, so everything appears legit. It’s flawless. Zero way to tell it’s fake, unless you call the bank directly. So, you follow the link to change your password. Once you’ve entered your password into the ‘Enter Old Password’ box, that’s all I need. I’ve got you. Bypassing security questions and everything else is a walk in the park. Done and done. The only reason you even got a wire transfer receipt is because I wanted you to. Otherwise I would’ve rerouted it to a random email address so you’d never know until you checked your account.”
Jaxon nods once, contemplative. “You could make serious money from this.”
“Except,” I hold up a finger to halt his avaricious thoughts, “I designed that code for experimental purposes. Not to rob people’s hard-earned money.”
Tucking his phone away, he arches a censorious brow at me. “You want to be part of our team? That is what we do. We take what isn’t ours.”
I raise my hands. “Whoa there, mate. I did not ask to be a part of your team.” I point to a bored Melanie. “She did. And she doesn’t know this code, so don’t go thinking you can bribe her into telling you anything.”
“But—”
I shake my head. “I know. I know. With this you wouldn’t need to go out in the field and risk getting caught. You could just sit behind your computers and become billionaires. But I’ll not be contributing to that.”
His eyes narrow. “What’s your purpose, then?”
I shrug. “If my mate’s going to be here, so will I. You heard her, we’re a team. Joined at the hip.” I pause, think, and add, “Also, Collin. I like it very much when he ties me up and straddles me.”
Oh, yes, he had. When I tried to stop him from ordering those atrocious undergarments.
Melanie’s eyebrows jump up in surprise.
And Jaxon…a reaction slips through his veneer that both scares and excites me. His jaw pops. It’s clenched so tightly I can almost hear his teeth grinding.
Nerves have me fidgeting with my glasses again.
Catching himself, he turns away and rakes a hand through his hair. Yep, his perfect control slipped, there, for a second.
Fixing his attention solely on Melanie this time, he says, “You get a six-month trial run. You’ll sign an NDA, along with the general team contract. You do nothing without my permission. You blend in with the world and do nothing to draw attention to yourself. No more blowing shit up. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you’re just a normal, innocent nobody.”
He looks up to the ceiling and orders, “Now, get out. Both of you.”
Mel leaps to her feet, over and done with this meeting ten minutes ago.
I’m a wee bit slower, giving Jaxon a careful eye. His face is still turned to the ceiling.
As I’m about to pass him, I hesitate and pause.
“Timber?” His voice is gruff, gaze still fixed above.
“Yes?”
“Go.”
“I—”
“Go.”
I go.
But I wonder. What the hell was that all about?