I curse into the brisk morning air when an email lands in his inbox out of nowhere. Its loud whoosh sounds like a siren roaring through Alex’s apartment since not a single noise can be heard—not even Alex’s faint snores from earlier.
Clutching at my chest to ensure my heart remains in place, I return my eyes to the screen of the laptop. The cause of my near heart failure is an email from someone named BJ. The subject requests for them to have an urgent meeting, and it was sent only thirty seconds ago.
Confident I can make the email look unread with one quick click of a mouse button, I open it.
Alex,
We need to meet. Preferably outside of the office. It’s in regards to the information we obtained about Theresa this morning. Please delete this message once you’ve read it. I also sent additional details to your phone.
BJ
After reminding myself time and time again that there are plenty of women in the world named Theresa, I assess BJ’s email more diligently. What information is BJ referring to? Alex couldn’t have helped him this morning, as he was with me all morning. He never left my side. . . except when he consigned me all the hot water so I could wash my hair. I found my open laptop on the bed following this.
You son of a bitch!
After tossing his laptop back in its rightful spot, I charge into Alex’s room. I’m not planning to wake the ass-peddling, lying son of a bitch. I want proof.
Proof he’s a liar.
Proof he’s a user.
Proof I’m the biggest fucking idiot in the world for ever believing a single word he said.
I find what I’m hunting for a few seconds later. His brand new cell has only been in his possession a few hours, but since I overheard the customer service representative showing him how to activate his phone using iCloud connectivity, I’m hoping it will hold the clues I’m seeking.
I hit a snag when my swipe of the screen requests a lock code. I try every combination I can think of before the iPhone locks me out of his device for five minutes. Five minutes might not seem like a long time in a standard, everyday life, but when you’re seeking answers while only two seconds from losing your shit, it feels more like a death sentence.
“He broke your trust first,” I assure myself as I call a frequently dialed number on my cell.
Even with the early hour, Hunter answers in a timely manner.
“I need your help,” I demand, rudely not offering a greeting.
I hear Hunter scrub the thick beard on his jaw before he replies, “Anything.”
He knows he owes me, so this will make us even.
* * *
Over the next ten minutes, Hunter walks me through the process of hacking into Alex’s phone. At the start, he was hesitant as to why I couldn’t ask Alex his details, but a quick mumble about Alex being an adulterer changed Hunter’s prospective.
Hunter hates cheaters, so much so, he offered to drain Alex’s bank account of the scarce funds he has before guaranteeing to fleece any family money he has coming his way in the distant future.
I thanked him for the offer but said it was unnecessary. I wish I wasn’t so quick to refuse when the evidence in Alex’s phone turns damning.
Although his iCloud account has yet to sync with his photos, the handful in his album take care of the last thread binding my heart together. Add them to the messages BJ sent every hour on the hour the past eight hours, and I can only reach one conclusion: he used me. Not to get to Isaac. Not to have me face charges over half a decade old. He used me to advance in his position at the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Thatbosshe spoke of, the one he appears to hate, she’s the same woman my boss loathes. Their reasons for dislike are vastly contradicting though. Isaac can’t stand Theresa Veneto because she’s dragged him through three years of legal battles in an attempt to pin an illegitimate child on him. Alex hates her because she’s higher-ranked than him.
Well, was.
From BJ’s messages, it’s obvious she was removed from her position last night. Either Alex didn’t get BJ’s messages strongly urging him against using the information he discovered this morning, or he didn’t care about his advice because each message received reveals BJ’s growing agitation.
3:45 PM– We need to talk. It’s urgent.
3:55 PM– Is this the right number? Why aren’t you replying?
4:10 PM– I know you think you’ve struck gold, but don’t use the information you unearthed about Theresa.
