35. It’s us against the world
CHAPTER 35
IT’S US AGAINST THE WORLD
CHARLIE
“ A re you sure about this?” Emma asks, heel tapping on the floor.
If we weren’t in an elevator, she’d be pacing, I’m sure of it.
“Are you kidding me? He’s been against you from the start. We’re not going to make anything up. This isn’t about forcing him out, even if I wish I could. I just want to see if there’s anything to find.”
“And if there isn’t?”
Fuck, I hate how discouraged she sounds.
“Then we’ll think of something else. But he can’t just fucking get away with this,” I say. “Haven’t you ever wanted to give a bad guy his just deserts?”
She says nothing, but there’s no hiding the twinkle in her eyes.
I grin at her. “You have.”
“Of course I have,” she says, and I want to kiss the pout off her lips. “But that doesn’t mean I feel comfortable hacking into his computer.”
“All right, Neo, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. All I’m proposing is that we visit a friend of mine over in security. Manish’s a good guy. I wouldn’t ask him to do anything that would risk his ass or ours.”
“You promise?” she asks.
I brush my thumb across her cheek, needing the touch too much to care that we’re in the office. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do,” she says, delivered so genuinely I’m knocked off my axis for a full minute.
“Okay,” I say, when I can think again. We haven’t talked about the kiss, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Emma, though, hasn’t made a move to repeat it, and for the first time in my life, I’m thinking before I do something reckless.
Reese would be so proud of me.
Manish has us meet him in the blue room, which is a secure meeting space that is, surprise, surprise, painted blue.
The creativity here is off the charts.
“So, who’s the dude?” he asks.
I tell him.
“Oh, you mean the screamer?”
Hold up. Brows raised, I lean in. “Karl’s the screamer? Karl Roberts. Our boss. That Karl?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, gleeful as a golden retriever at the beach.
Emma’s gaze ping-pongs between us. “What are you talking about?”
Manish fills her in while he types. His fingers move so fast my thumbs ache in solidarity. “Two years ago, at the Christmas party, I was red-cupping the security desk while everyone partied?—”
“Manning it solo,” I explain to Emma.
“I didn’t expect anything interesting, but around ten p.m., there’s a notification that someone’s trying to enter the underground garage. Now, usually, it’s twenty-four-hour entry if you have an after-hours pass, but we turn it off during the Christmas party.”
“Because of the zero-tolerance policy,” she finishes.
He nods without looking away from the screen. “So I go down there to tell whoever it is to get a cab, and he starts screaming in my face. ‘Don’t you know who I am? I’m going to get you fired. You’re going to be living off breadcrumbs when I’m done with you.’”
“How do you know it was Roberts?” I ask.
“It’s protocol to take the pass before we kick them off site. He had to retake his drug and alcohol screening and attend mandatory compliance training to get it back.”
Jesus. “He’s an even bigger asshole than I thought.”
Manish chuckles. “Right? So what do you need?”
I hoped we’d find enough in the logs to back up our claim that Roberts has been tampering with the procedure.
But this ?
Emma’s eyes are wide and unblinking. I’m not even sure she’s breathing. “I miss the person I was thirty seconds ago,” she says, her voice rough.
That’s… yeah. Me too.
All I can think is thank fuck I hate using chat.
“I’ll say this,” Manish says, zipping the files up. The plan is to report it through the usual channels as a random check so that it can’t be traced back to us. “He’s been careful. The language he uses is enough to be suggestive without pinging any of our radars.”
There are a dozen, maybe more, messages flagged on-screen. Comments to or about coworkers that don’t just cross the line; they slingshot themselves over it.
But the ones about Emma are the worst.
If this doesn’t get him, I’m done.
Before we leave, I check one last name. “Landon Kent?” Manish asks with a sardonic chuckle. “Yeah, I know the little shit. Walks around like he’s god’s gift to IT. He threw a tantrum last year when the redundancies happened and they wanted to move him out of automation and into the SharePoint support team. Brought out the waterworks and everything.”
“Someone missed nap time,” I say.
Manish breaks into a smile like he already knows what I’m going to ask him. “I bet management is dying for a reason to boot him. After a stunt like that? It wouldn’t take much.”
I love this guy. “What’s it going to cost me?”
He glances at Emma, then turns back to me with a brow raised meaningfully. Nothing gets past him. “Don’t worry ’bout it. I never get to do anything fun anymore.” But I hear the truth as if I’d said it myself. Ambitious assholes who don’t have an ethical bone in their body are everywhere. Getting to stick it to a couple of them without stooping to their level won’t change the system, but it’ll feel damn good.
An hour later, I get a text from Manish that makes my day: Keystroke recordings caught our buddy faking it while working from home. Already sent the report. Cheers, M.
I tap Emma on the shoulder.
“Report’s been sent. Now we wait.”
“You know,” she says, her voice soft, her tone far too reserved for my liking, “it might not be enough. Guys get away with this all the time.”
I move in close. Too close to be appropriate for the office. She’s wearing a baby blue sweater and a frown, and I want to rid her of both. “It’s not like you to play devil’s advocate.”
It wins me a small smile. “I don’t usually need to. You advocate for yourself just fine.”