Total D*ck(21)

She’d surprised me. Or, more accurately, I’d surprised myself. When she’d been flirting with Carey, I barely managed to keep myself under control. Even though I knew she was only playing a part to ensure Carey’s cooperation on the Fluffy front, I still wanted to yank her into my lap.

She’d gotten to me, more than any other woman I’d known. And then my bathroom stunt. Just the memory of her pants and moans had my dick trying to embarrass me by pitching an unwanted tent. Even so, I couldn’t stop the smile that overtook my face as I walked into the conference room. She was fire under my touch, and I’d always enjoyed playing with matches.

Scarlett was standing behind Carey’s chair, both of them staring at something on his screen.

“What’d I miss?” I held my hand up against the glare from the sun pouring through the wide window.

She didn’t even give me a glance.

“I found Fluffy.” Carey clicked a few things and spun the laptop around to face me.

A news story in an Italian newspaper about a suicide named Giuseppe Florentine sat front and center. Carey had translated it to English.

“Fluffy? How do you know it’s him?” I squinted at the too-bright screen.

“I had enough information from the old days to track him. But I didn’t want to approach him in the real world unless absolutely necessary.”

Scarlett peered at the stark black and white words. “When did this happen?”

Carey pointed at the laptop. “Two days ago. He was found hanged in his apartment.” He ran his fingers along the two spider bite piercings in his bottom lip. “This is so fucked up.”

Scarlett squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. He was a nice guy.” He rested his hand on hers and shook his head. “And that’s not all.”

“What else?” I sank down into a chair, my back to the garishly sunny window. From this angle, I could see down Scarlett’s top as she bent over. She wore a black bra. For me? I licked my lips.

“I got this via express international delivery this morning.” Carey held up a USB drive.

“What’s on it?” I asked, watching as a single tendril came loose from Scarlett’s bun and floated to her forehead.

“To the casual observer, nothing. To me, lots. I’ve already copied its contents, and I’m trying to crack the encryption.” He pointed to a piece of computer equipment. “I’m using the server to run a complex algorithm that will eventually figure it out. Once the encryption is broken, I’ll be able to see what’s on the drive.”

“How long will that take?”

He shrugged. “No way to know. The algorithm is playing a guessing game at an exponential rate that we couldn’t possibly comprehend. Could take two more seconds, could take two weeks, could take the year. Fluffy hid whatever is on there under layers and layers of security. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence he mailed it to me only days before he died. I know it wasn’t a suicide.”

I leaned forward and read the brief article on Carey’s laptop. Scrolling down, I saw a photo of Florentine. He was young, Carey’s age, and smiling in a photo with his arms around a couple of friends. “How can you be so sure?”

“I just know. This is Discord or something to do with them. It has to be.”

“But why? I thought he was one of them.”

“I don’t know. Discord is usually protective of their own. It doesn’t make sense.” He pointed at the USB lying next to his laptop. “But something tells me if there are any answers, they’ll be here.”

“So now we just wait?”

“No.” Scarlett finally looked at me. “We party. Greenwood execs will be at the ball tomorrow night. We need to hope they slip or, possibly, we can help them to open up.”

Carey whipped his computer back around and ran his hands across the keys. I stood and walked around to their side of the table, watching him work.

When he was done, he’d pulled up a list of names and faces, the top brass of Greenwood. Only one caught my eye, a woman in her thirties with long dark hair and piercing eyes. Greenwood’s public relations officer.

“That one.” I pointed at her photo. “I’ll get the info from her. If she knows anything about the Rhone break-in, I’ll know it, too, by the end of the night.”

Scarlett breathed hard out her nose. “Scroll down more.”

Carey did as asked, showing us the smiling faces of various executives.

“Stop.” Scarlett held out a long, slender finger. “The CFO. Brandon Leatherwood. He’s mine.” She threw a devious look over her shoulder. “I should be able to pump him for information. I met him at one of my debutante balls when we were younger.”