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My brows pull together. “What do you mean ‘he’ll know?’” All at once, it hits me like a fucking wrecking ball.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I screech. “Tell me he doesn’t have my phone monitored.”
Maceo told me he deals in security. I already knew he was snooping into small things like finding my address and going through my social media accounts. But tracking my phone?
Soft thumping is the only sound coming through the phone speaker. I imagine Punk is banging his head against a wall somewhere. It’s all the confirmation I need.
“Un-fucking-believable,” I fume. “I’m getting a new number.”
“No, Jo, please don’t,” he pleads. I actually empathize with the guy. Maceo’s probably going to have his nuts for all the shit he let slip.
“How would you feel if all your shit was being monitored?” I chide.
He groans. “I get it, Jo. All of our shit on the crew is being monitored.”
I blanch. “What?”
“All of our stuff is tracked. It’s a way of watching out for each other if something happens to one of us. We know where everyone is at any given time. We’re able to read through text messages and emails to keep track of info regarding missions,” he says with a sigh.
“And what about shit which has nothing to do with the missions?” I inquire in disbelief.
Another sigh. “It’s a natural casualty. Most of the guys have nothing to hide since we’re not in committed relationships and it’s kind of like bragging rights when, um, sexual things come through. But don’t worry. Atlas is the only one who sees what comes through from you, well, him and Chase, since he’s our cyber guy. Maybe don’t send nudes to Atlas and it will be all good.”
There’s mumbling in the background before Punk is back on the phone. “Chase says Maceo was going to tell you about us tracking you if things turned serious between the two of you, but he didn’t want to worry you if you guys were a bust. He’s doing this for your own safety.”
Punk’s words trigger a memory of Maceo and I in bed. He was talking to me about taking extra security percussions and we were interrupted when he got the text for the mission. Was he trying to tell me he was monitoring my phone? Does this mean he thought our status moved from uncertain to serious?
Who fucking cares! He hacked your phone, Jo.
“I didn’t fucking agree to this shit, Punk. None of this is fucking ‘all good,’” I bite back. “What does Maceo have access to?” I need to know how deep this shit goes.
“Everything,” he admits.
“Everything,” I repeat as a cold sweat rolls over me. I drop the phone in my haste to make it to the toilet as all the bourbon I drank comes back up. I have never felt this violated in all my life.
“Jo? Jo, are you still there? You okay?” Punk’s voice comes out louder through my phone speakers.
“How are you on the damn speaker phone?” I cry out.
“Um, I asked Chase to override your phone in order to check and make sure you’re okay,” he says sheepishly.
“For fuck’s sake!” I scream and start sobbing. “Tell Chase if he unblocks access on my phone for Maceo, I will go to the police and report him!”
There’s more mumbling in the background. It must be Chase. “Best not tell her we work hand in hand with the police,” I hear his muffled voice.
“He can’t, not without some major hacking since you blocked Maceo and you didn’t block me. Shit, Jo. What can I do to make this okay?” Punk pleads, worry laced in his voice.
I collect myself before answering. “Nothing, Punk. There’s nothing that will make any of this right.”
Silence from him on the other end, but I can hear him typing away on his phone.
“Atlas wants to know why you made a phone call to a Jacob Klein that lasted over an hour,” Punk asks, his voice all business.
Fucking controlling jealous asshole!
Of course, he would be going through all my shit since I’ve blocked him from texting and calling. He’s probably livid, knowing I was talking with my ex tonight.
“Tell Atlas it’s none of his fucking business,” I spit before crawling over to the phone and disconnecting. I remove the battery, not wanting to be disturbed anymore tonight. Then I crawl to my bed and climb in before sobs take over again. Hades whines in the doorway, worry contorting his adorable big face.
“Come here, baby boy,” I say through a sob and pat the sheets.
Hades launches up to the bed and lies right on top of me. I stroke his fur and continue to cry, letting the warmth from him seep into my cold body.
“You’re the only one I trust, big boy,” I tell him. I drift off, knowing he’s watching over me tonight.
