I also think about Saige. What kind of guy will she like? Charming? Or dark and brooding? I won’t know until I’ve spent at least a little time with her. Maybe I should follow her a bit and see.

As it does every now and then my completely legal work piles up I don’t have a chance to follow Saige for the next few days. Instead I spend my afternoons and evenings at the office.

On Tuesday I meet again with Beaumont. He is cordial and cool as always. I’m good at getting a read on people, but he’s one of those who has a lot going on below a calm facade. I would have to play my cards carefully and consider every move before I make one.

After I finish telling him how his money is doing and what I have planned for the future, we settle into the normal chitchat. I decide not to bring up Saige. I don’t want him to know how interested I am.

“Are you a golfing man at all, Mr. Brand?” I don’t want to be, but I am. All part of the job.

“I play my fair share,” I say with a smile.

“You should come to my club sometime. They’re very discreet. I’m sure I could get you in with no problems.” Every now and then I go play with my legitimate clients, to keep up appearances, but I never play with my illegitimate clients. Best not to go out in public with them.

“I’ll consider it,” I say. He tells me which club it is and, of course, it is one of the most exclusive. So exclusive they still don’t allow women.

“Well, I should probably get back to work. Make some more money so I can send it your way.” He smiles again and we shake hands. I hit the intercom button and Grace hurries to escort him out and I lean back against my chair. I feel a headache building behind my eyes

I grab two pills from my desk and swallow them with some cold coffee. It makes me cringe, but hopefully they’ll do the trick. I close my eyes and massage my temples for a moment, but then Grace’s voice comes through the intercom.

“Your next appointment is here, Mr. Brand.” I take a deep breath before I press the button.

“Send him in.”

The migraine doesn’t seem to care about my medication, and I tell Grace to cancel my afternoon appointments and that I’m heading home.

I take a cab home and by the time we reach my apartment, I can barely crawl into bed. Leo is there, meowing as if he knows there’s something wrong with me and wants to help.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, and even those few words hurt my head. It takes all the strength I have to get up, close the curtains and then get back into bed. I close my eyes and lay on my back, as still as I can. Now I just have to wait for it to pass.

I must have fallen asleep, because my phone starts going berserk and I open my eyes and search for it with my hand. The migraine is subsiding, but only fractionally. A few more hours and it will be completely gone.

Fuck. I missed the meeting. I’d sent everyone a message earlier that I might not make it, but they are still blowing up my phone. I have at least three messages from each one of them. I send Cash a message back to go on without me and I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.

Slowly, I get to my feet and shuffle to the bathroom for a glass of water. I down it and then shuffle to the kitchen to feed Leo. If I don’t, he’s bound to start meowing and my head can’t take that right now.

After he’s fed, I have another glass of water and go to bed.

But not before I get a text message from a blocked number.

Nice try. But I’m smarter than that.

Six

I grit my teeth. It’s like the anonymous hacker is taunting me. Kicking me when I’m down. I crawl out of bed and grab yet another burner phone from my stash. This person is making us go through a fuck ton of phones. Good thing we have the money for this, but shit. It’s starting to really piss me off.

“Cash? I got another message. I can’t get there, so have the guys come here.” I’ve only done this a few times, and they know how to stagger their arrival so we don’t look suspicious.

“Be right there,” he says and then hangs up. Still in pain, I go to the fridge and check to make sure I have enough beer. Usually at least one of them will bring something with them, to give the appearance that we’re just watching football or something. They also wear Patriots shirts to keep up the ruse. Most people are so involved with their own shit they don’t notice what anyone else is doing. Still. You can never be too careful. Ever.

Cash is first to arrive and goes immediately for the phone. I’ve situated myself on the recliner with another glass of water. The headache is down to a manageable level, but if Cash can’t figure out who this hacker is, it might come back with a vengeance. Hardy is second with a case of Bud Light, followed by Row and then Track.

“You okay?” Track asks as he takes his spot on the couch and flips on the television to ESPN and before turning the volume up so we can talk freely. I already checked my apartment for bugs, something we all do regularly.

“Yeah, just have a headache,” I say and then give him a thumbs up.

“Oh, come on!” Baz yells at the television. I give him an icy glare and he points at the screen.

“Did you see that? Fucking ridiculous.” I just keep glaring and Baz mumbles something under his breath that I don’t bother to call him out on. Cash puts his hand up.

“Will you all kindly shut the fuck up? I’m trying to concentrate here.” Baz snorts, but keeps his mouth clamped shut.

I close my eyes and lean back in my chair as Row, Track, Hardy and Baz pass around the beer and discuss who the potential hacker could be. Row starts taking wagers. I open my eyes and snap my fingers.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” I say. Normally, I’d let them have their fun, but my patience is thin tonight.

They all look at me like I’m a fucking killjoy.

“Fine, do whatever the fuck you want.” I close my eyes again to wait for Cash’s victory dance. He has to crack this phone. He just has to.

Finally, I ask Cash if he’s got anything. He shakes his head slowly.

“I have no idea what this is, but it might be some military grade shit. It’s confounding every single thing I try. I’m sorry, man, but I don’t know what else to do.” Well, fuck.

“Okay, but you can still contact your hacker friends, right?” Cash’s network is a surprisingly trustworthy lot. They look out for their own.

“Yeah, I’ll have them give it a shot.” He types some more as the others discuss who could be doing this.

The problem with what we do is that we have a long list of enemies and those enemies have means to get back at us.

“We’re just going to have to step up security,” I say and some of the guys groan.

“Hey, don’t blame me. I think we need to start doing stuff off the grid.” That means using our cell phones and computers less and doing things the old-fashioned way. The way people did before technology. With paper that could be destroyed.

“I keep saying we should all learn Morse code,” Cash says, not looking up from his keyboard where his fingers are flying so fast they blur.

“Morse code would be nearly useless because it’s easy to crack. Too big a risk,” Hardy says. He has a point, but that doesn’t deter Cash. Yet another facet of his obsession with antiquities.

After the bust with the phone, we got back to our regular business.

“So, haven’t seen the girl yet, huh?” Baz says. “Might be time to call in the big guns.”

“Oh yeah, who’s that?” Row asks. Baz pops him on the arm and I swear to God, if they break my fucking coffee table, they’re all dead.