Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
These motherfuckers.
Were they ever going to tell us we had a clandestine forensic accountant among us?
“Do they know about those boards?” I asked.
“Yeah. They have some big computer expert on payroll up in Denver who monitors it.”
“And you work for the good guys?” I pressed.
“I like to think so.”
“And who are those good guys?”
“I can’t discuss my clients.”
“Okay then, why do you do this at The Surf Club?”
“Because I can mask the IP here easier.”
That made no sense to me, but I didn’t go after it because he could explain it, and it would still make no sense to me. Sure, I knew what an IP address was, but what made it easier to mask, I didn’t know.
I also didn’t care.
“So you are totally a computer guru,” I stated.
“Mostly, I’m an accountant. But I know my way around a computer, yeah.”
“As such, and mind you, you can say no. This isn’t extortion. I’m never going to tell anyone about what you do, except the Angels, obvs. But you might be able to do some bits and bobs for the Angels on your computer.”
“They told me if you ever figured it out, you’d recruit me,” he mumbled.
“Who told you?”
“The head dude, the tall, ex-surfer guy.”
Mace, operations manager of the Phoenix branch of NI&S, Knox’s boss.
Holy hell.
This was crazy.
“And yes, I’d be willing to do stuff for you, if I know how to do it,” Byron said. “But I don’t work for free.”
I sat back, disappointed. “If you know about us, you know we do work for free. And our day jobs are servers, bakers, and bartenders. It’s not like we’re rolling in it.”
“No, I mean, you have to set me up on a date with your sister.”
It was a wonder I didn’t fall out of my chair and roll across the room, that bowled me over so viciously.
“Say what?” I asked.
“I want you to set me up with your sister,” he repeated.
“Dream,” I said to confirm.
“Yeah. Dream,” he confirmed.
Okay, I needed time with this.
First, I was no cockblocker.
As far as I knew, Dream had sworn off men post-baby daddy number three.
However, if the spirit moved her, a girl had to get herself some.
And Byron had a full head of brown hair, nice features, and he was taller than her (and the Nelson family ran tall, for instance, I was five feet eight). Obviously, he was highly intelligent, and since I’d spent nearly every working day with him for six years, I felt relatively safe in saying he seemed like a nice guy.
He might be good at giving “some.”
Thus, I shouldn’t remind Byron she had three kids, three jobs, and she could be a bitch.
Second, Dream was my sister.
Should I hook her up with some dude I’d known for years, but clearly I did not know him very well. A dude who watched people’s money without their knowledge for undisclosed clients he “liked” to think were good guys?
To buy time, I remarked, “I thought you didn’t like her.”
“Why wouldn’t I like her?”
“Because you took my back when she was handing me shit that one time.”
“I’ve seen growth lately.”
This was true. I had too. Even when it came to me.
“It takes a certain kind of strength of character to be so deep into who you are, but still, you can take a look at yourself and realize you need to do better and be kinder,” he carried on. “And then you do better and you’re kinder.”
This was true too. And food for thought when it came to my own mission with Dream.
“And she’s hot,” Byron finished.
I couldn’t make that call, but I could say that even rundown, Dream was pretty. It was just her personality that made that shine dim.
“No offense, Byron, but, even if you know I don’t exactly get along with my sister,”—I flicked a hand to his laptop— “you hang out on the dark web and have a morally vague job.”
“That isn’t on the dark web,” he said.
“Wait. Those boards are on the regular web?”
“No. They’re on the web where even the people on the dark web don’t have the skills to access the…erm, secret web.”
“You are so totally a computer guru,” I accused.
He lifted his chin, sidestepped my comment and stated his case. “I make good money. I like kids. I know how to cook. I’ll take the garbage out when it’s full or the bin smells, and not only because I live alone, but because the garbage needs to go out. I’m a decent looking guy. I own my own home and car. Not outright on the home, but I’m only five years out on that. And what I do doesn’t hurt anybody, but it might stop others getting hurt.”
I tipped my head to the side, because that was a good case.
“So let’s be clear. If I get you a date with Dream, you’ll do how many jobs for us?”