Chapter 4
Chapter Four
CADE
Fucking Jack needs to be hit over the head with his game controller to see if it restarts that brain of his.
I know it functions. I’ve even seen flickers of intelligence, like he showed the day he chose Violet.
But since then, he’s just become more and more complacent, if that’s possible, and takes her for granted.
“Jack? Pizza?” Vi tucks a strand of her long, wavy, dark brown hair behind her ear. It’s fallen free of her low bun, and my fingers twitch to be the one to tuck it, to feel its softness. The unruly lock gives her an even sexier look.
There’s something about a woman’s hairdo becoming undone that gets to me.
“Pepperoni, babe.”
She tries to hide her wince.
I’m pretty sure the ‘babe’ is added for my benefit in some weird assertion of ownership over her. Which is laughable.
Vi is with him, not me. And I’ve never in my life made a move on someone with him.
He’s a hell of a lot younger than me, so doing that would’ve been weird.
Fuck, Violet’s ten years younger than me. She must see me as old and crusty.
The pit of my stomach lurches, and I glance back at Jack, who’s deep into his damn game once more.
He’s over what happened to his girl today.
Me?
My veins burn over this…what…forty-plus-year-old sleaze of a politician hitting on someone so young, so powerless.
This Isaac Stengal has got to know he can make or break her career.
Not break. Violet, for all the delicateness of her build, has strength.
But he could cause damage.
These fucking guys. Thinking they’re untouchable.
If my brother won’t teach this fucktard a lesson, then I will.
Violet’s staring at me, and I realize she’s waiting for my answer.
I close my laptop, shove my glasses to the top of my head, and grab my bag. “Thanks, but no. I’ve got work to do.”
With that, I head to my room and go to my desk.
The lights of the city filter through the window, but I ignore the world outside, thinking about what I want to do.
I don’t know much about Isaac Stengal, as I don’t take much notice of the local political arena. I know who runs things and it isn’t the self-important people looking to climb ladders to better and bigger things.
Oh, sure, there are those who really want to make a difference, but I’m realistic enough to see the world eats those people alive. Like it’ll eat Vi.
Though, she wants to be an analyst, or an advisor, I think.
I can see her trying to keep things on the straight and narrow for whoever she ends up working for. And I can see her do-gooder soul.
Vi has the drive, the brains, and morals to be the best damn thing to happen to a politician, assuming he or she wants to run within the law.
Maybe she’ll grow and bend into the system, or maybe she’ll be a burnout. I don’t know. I don’t have a crystal ball.
But what I do have is mad skills on the computer, so first I set about learning all I can about the jerk.
Isaac is a rising star in the political world, but pretty much anyone knows that.
I want the stuff no one else knows. The shit. The dark things he does. Because he’s going to suffer for attempting to manipulate her into sex acts. He’s lucky he didn’t put hands on her.
He didn’t, right?
For a brief second, I almost go out into the living room and demand to know if he’s ever touched her, but I change my mind.
As I run a program on the dark web on my main computer, I take my laptop to my bed where I lay back to dig up all the dirt hiding in murky corners.
The program will dig up everything from any debts he might have down to any scandals he might be covering up. The rest I can do myself.
Vi would have mentioned if he’d touched her. Right?
And I’m not sure crossing that line’s his jam. Men like that tend to manipulate the girl into touching, into thinking it’s her idea.
He keeps his life pretty much an open book, he likes pretty women, he dates around, just enough to be seen as a catch and not so much to be labeled a player.
There’s got to be something in that.
Interns can’t be his deepest, darkest secret.
I dive into his life, his history.
The inconsistencies in the story he puts out to the real one are small enough to not hold interest to most. Shit, even the fact he didn’t graduate top of his class before entering law and failing to pass the bar twice instead of sailing through isn’t much.
A smart advisor would leave it and save it to reveal later if he climbs higher on the ladder.
A smarter advisor would have a story in the bag, a white lie from embarrassment stopping him from telling that story.
But it’s one that’d be super easy to spin him being the guy who, like everyone else who had setbacks, had to work super hard.
It would work, and it’s not what I’m looking for.
The pings on the main computer from his online life story are few and far between. As I scroll through some pictures, I come across one from some business guy at a strip club, and there, in the background, is one Isaac Stengal.
My senses tingle.
It’s the only photo of him at a club. It’s a sleazy club, too. Not a high-end one that proclaims itself as burlesque. This is titties out, pussies on show, and lap dances where touching’s allowed. Fuck, this place has blowjobs and full-on sex for those who pay.
I know.
Belov owns it.
We launder the money from there. And it’s fucking lucrative.
The more I dig, the more I find.
Holy fuck.
I sit back and shake my head.
A good portion of Isaac’s salary goes on strippers. Not just there, but other places, too. Most of which are owned by various mafia and bratva…
Destroying Stengal’s reputation’s going to be easier than I thought.
But I want to do it right.
I unlock the drawer on my desk and pull out an old-school address book and thumb through to C, then I pull out one of the burners in there, and I call.
“Baby,” purrs a voice of pure buttered caramel, “changed your mind on my offer?”
I grin.
Enzo would kill to have Candi say this to him. But much to her chagrin, I’m not interested.
“How are you, Candi?”
“Better now that you’re calling. On the house, Cade. You and me. What do you say?”
She doesn’t mean it. That’s the other thing. Candi’s a top-tier escort, and she knows me well. And she also knows I’d never put her in danger.
Plus, if it’s something extra curricular, she knows she’ll be getting paid twice.
“I’d say I’d rather employ your services, if you’re available.”
“Depends on price and who he is.” Candi’s all business. “When do you need me?”
“Tonight, if you can do it. I’ll pay extra on top.” I track Isaac’s card, the one he doesn’t think anyone can trace, and log on to the feed of the place. There the slime fucker is. “It’s Isaac Stengal.”
“The hot politician? Because he is hot. Is he into young girls? If he is, I might need to kill him. I don’t hold with that.”
“Not that I’ve found, and I’ve been looking into everything. He likes strippers, and I get a feeling since he visits Meow Club here and there, he might have an itching for a little kink.”
She snorts. “Nothing wrong with that.”
Candi’s right. There isn’t.
“He tried to harass someone I know, and she’s in college.”
“What do you need?”
“Pictures. Video if you can, but pictures are just as good. The more embarrassing, the better. This is where you can find him tonight…” I rattle off the address as he orders another drink, the charge appearing on the card’s purchases in real time on my computer screen.
She hangs up, and I catch up on some work.
The sounds of the TV float through.
Jack’s computer game has got to be driving Vi up the wall.
I’ve played my share of games, but never with an audience member who doesn’t pay. And never with one as tasty as Jack’s girl.
There’s a bottle of cognac on my desk. I open it and pour some into a glass. Honestly, it’s a nice drop, probably expensive, and I can’t remember who gave it to me. Must have been one of the clients when we head out as so-called regular IT.
I take a sip, sliding into a bank account belonging to one of the businesses on Belov territory.
The person’s clean, no skimming, all bills paid, and they’re smart enough to spread the payments to be collected out so even a forensic accountant wouldn’t see a problem with it.
My burner buzzes.
Candi
Check ur email.
“Fuck, that’s quick.” I open the email and start to grin, running a hand over my mouth.
“You bad fucking boy, Isaac.”
Again, I’m not against him doing this shit, but no self-respecting politician should be doing anything like this outside the comfort of a club made for this shit with impeccable credentials and strict rules.
Fuck me, she even included a video, and it’s not just Candi but another girl too. Candi’s the one masked and in full-on latex. But I don’t care about the other girl. I care about the prestigious and handsy politician.
I compile it all into a short video with a choice snippet of the actual video Candi included.
Then I hack into the local New York news stations and replace the political TV ad campaign Isaac’s been running with this version.
And of course, to really sell the authenticity, I make sure it’s all signed by my hacker name, The Ghost.
When it’s all done, I pay Candi and add a generous bonus.
I sit back and sip my cognac.
No one knows who I am, not really, and they don’t know the things I’ve done.
Not even Jack.
Honestly, I do love my brother, but Jack’s way too self-absorbed that he wouldn’t notice anything outside his own little bubble. Fuck, he barely notices his long-suffering girlfriend.
And we’ve never been close enough for me to share my secret life. I’m just his boring older brother with a solid job in IT. Sure, I’m a fair bit older than Jack, but I know there are plenty of siblings with a decade or more between them who are close.
I think Jack’s always been jealous of the close relationship I had with Mom. He saw it as him being unwanted, the catalyst that split up our parents.
But our father’s a dickwad. And Mom…she worked fucking hard to provide for Jack and me.
When I was old enough, I helped her with Jack. But she worked all the time, and he didn’t see how guilty she felt at working over being home. For him, she was doing her obligation, and I was the reason why they weren’t as close.
After she died, that distance between us grew. And even now, no matter what I do, he seems to resent me.
But I try. I do what I can to be there, to help him. Even letting him squat in my home.
But I can do this for him. For his girl.
I take another swallow of the cognac and smile.
That ad should more than do the job of teaching Isaac to keep his fucking hands to himself.