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I slid a picture over the table to her.
She looked down, saw it, and gasped. “What—How—You—Oh my God!You invaded my privacy.”
Matt’s head fell backward. “Are you freaking kidding me? That’s all you do to us!”
Her face pinched in on itself. “I thought… I thought we had a good time the other night.”
Another groan from him. “That was forever ago, and it wasso my family could get inside and figure out what the fuck you had on us.”
I pointed to the picture. “That’s also when I installed a program to watch you.”
I let my statement hang between us.
The image was of her doing somethingveryillegal.
“I have the trail to back this picture up, along with audio and video footage over the last month.”
“You can’t do that. What you did was illegal!”
She was white around her mouth, matching the blood draining from her face. She couldn’t stop staring at the picture.
Yes. What I did was just as illegal. I didn’t care.
“Prove it.”
She looked up, her eyes so dilated that it took a second to focus on me. “You bitch…”
“I have mercenaries on my payroll.”
She turned, looking at Kash, and she visibly shrank back again.
He stared right back, his voice level. “I wanted to give them your name, to tell them to ‘get rid’ of you in any way they chose. I’d be very kind to Bailey right now. She overrode my suggestion.”
Another gulp. This time it was audible, and that said a lot since we were in a nightclub. Flashing lights and techno music was an automatic with these places. And dark corners, thank goodness.
She crumpled up the picture, her gaze back on me. “What do you want?”
Now that we got that out of the way, I slid over my next item. It was the latest piece she wrote about Hoda. “This is you.”
“No, it’s not.”
I shook my head, not understanding why she kept trying. “By now, you should automatically know that I don’t bluff. If I say I have it, I have it. If I say I know it, I have a trail of onlineevidence to back me up. Stop. We’re not even here to do anything to you. Just shut up and listen.”
Her mouth clamped tight.
“Finally.” Matt sighed.
“Youare Inside Daily Press. I ran all of the articles, and they’re all from you. They all generate from your four computers. And yes, I know about the fifth one you keep in the back closet. I know all—just make that your mantra by now. Bailey knows all, so stop arguing with me. You’re only going to piss me off to find more shit on you, and I have a ton already. I have enough that we could hand it over to two FBI agents, who would be happy to do with it what they wanted. I don’t think you’d get away with the warning we’re going to give you.”
Matt was annoyed. I could feel it in the air.
Kash was having fun. Since Calhoun was locked up and taken away to a black site prison, one that we were promised the public didn’t know about, he’d been almost whistling Broadway tunes. He was a new fan ofHamilton. But he was enjoying making Camille Story squirm under our threats.
“What do you want?”
“Stop writing this shit about Quinn. It’s biased and it’s lies. It’s all lies.”
“But—”
