The Dirty Series 2(75)
I want to leap up out of my chair and pace around the room just to kill time, but I don’t. I stay seated and glance over at Angelica. Her lips are pressed tightly together, and her face is oddly pale. Dinner sooner rather than later, I think.
“Thank you, Damon,” Cook says and hangs up the handset gently. “I’m sorry about that, Mr. Brandon.”
I wave away the apology. “Quick, Cook. I want to know what’s happened with my accounts.”
“It’s a very odd circumstance, Mr. Brandon. What we’ve uncovered is not, as we first suspected, due in any way to the automated investment system. I’ve had a team of people working on this since we last spoke, and they’ve confirmed that.”
My chest tightens. “What the hell is it, then?”
“It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what was happening, because many of these transactions were being moved between your own accounts. Earlier today, one of the members of my team uncovered the culprit. It’s an outside account disguised to look like one of your own.”
My skin goes hot. “Are you telling me that someone hacked my account?”
“It appears so, Mr. Brandon.” Cook looks me in the eye despite the color coming to his cheeks.
“Your servers are supposed to be secure.”
“That’s just it, Jett.” Cook folds his hands on top of the legal pad. “In all, we’ve accounted for close to a million dollars in moved funds, with two hundred thousand already deposited into that account.”
I grit my teeth together.
No fucking way.
“Rest assured, please,” Cook says, clearly struggling to keep his tone even, reassuring, “that all of this money will be returned to your accounts. We’ve already started the process of—”
I slap my hand down on the surface of the desk. “How the fuck did you let this happen?”
“Well...we didn’t, as a matter of fact.”
“What?”
“Our tech personnel were able to track where the access originated from. Everything that happened was started from your personal computer.”
My mind can’t make sense of this. What in the literal fuck is Cook trying to say?
“I didn’t steal my own money.”
“I’m not suggesting that. But someone had to have access to—”
I stand up, towering over Cook. “Wonderful. Absolutely God damn wonderful, Cook. I assume we’re in the process of launching a full investigation to catch whatever greedy fuck did this?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Brandon. And again, I—”
“Wait.”
Angelica’s interruption is the last thing I expected to happen.
We both turn to look at her.
“What is it, Angelica?”
Her eyes fill with tears.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Angelica
I can’t let him storm out of here. I can’t let this go on another second. So when Jett’s accountant starts to explain the investigation that’s about to happen—the investigation, Jesus—it starts to spill out of me.
“Wait.” My voice is choked, tight. It’s the first thing I’ve said since we entered the office.
Jett looks down at me, eyes narrowed, mouth slightly open. I can feel the accountant’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look at him, because....
“What is it, Angelica?”
My eyes fill with tears.
Fuck.
“I can...I can help you with your investigation.”
Jett drops back into the chair, forehead furrowed. The accountant clears his throat.
Jesus, this is so much harder than I thought it would be—and I thought it would be terrible to begin with.
I want to erase the confusion from Jett’s face. I want to calm his anger with an explanation that will make everything clear. I want to make the accountant’s job easier.
But I don’t want to lose Jett.
My heart thrums, Don’t do this. Don’t lose him. Don’t do this. You’ll lose him.
I know I will, and I can’t back down.
Not now.
My mind casts around for a solution, any fucking solution, but it comes up blank...because there isn’t one.
I take a deep, shuddering breath and blink back the tears. They’re waiting for me to speak. Tick tock, Angelica.
“I want you to understand that....” It comes out as a pathetic whisper. Jett shakes his head. He couldn’t hear. I swallow the painful lump in my throat and start over.
“I was the one who...who got access to your computer.”
The color drains from Jett’s face. When he leans toward me, it’s with a slow, deliberate movement, as if it’s all he can do to keep his muscles under control.
“You did what?” His voice is deadly soft.
“You know—you know that all of this started...well, almost four weeks ago now. It started then because that’s when they sent me to install a program on your computer.”