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But we’re out of options, and what we’re currently doing is not sustainable.
I hastily enter my counterbalance and yell at Punk, “Now!”
Punk plugs in the system and hits the power button. The super computer rumbles to life. I hold my breath, watching the computer monitor in front of me. The damaged code rolling across the screen stops.
Nobody says a thing as we wait for the planted virus to overcome my Trojan. But it doesn’t continue. My malware worked.
Butch runs his hands over his head, blowing out a long breath. “Fucking hell. That was close.”
“We’re not out of the park yet. Our Trojan stalled the virus, but we need to remove it and assess the damage,” I instruct him. “At least we stopped the damage before it got worse.”
I lean my head back in my seat, turning to look at Simone. She looks like my salvation. “Come here, Numbers. I need your touch.”
With a grace only Simone has, she sashays to my side. She lays a steady hand on my shoulder, the other one running through my long hair, helping reduce the tension in my neck and shoulders. I place my hand over hers on my shoulder, relaxing into her gentle touch.
All of us are coming down from the high when Trent enters the room. His eyes sweep over us, taking in our irritated mood. “Everything okay?”
I grit my teeth. “No. Everything is far from okay.” I release Simone and turn in my chair to face Simone’s ex. “You have a saboteur in your ranks.”
His brows pull together on his orange head. “Huh? What are you talking about?” He looks to Simone for an answer—always focused on my woman.
“Don’t you look at her,” I snap. “I’m talking to you.”
“Chase,” Simone warns me firmly. “I know you’re angry, but try to calm down. Trent’s simply asking a question—it’s his job as liaison to ask what’s happening.”
My temper is steadily climbing with this asshole present around my woman after I told him to keep his distance the day before. No, I shouldn’t be biting the dude’s head off for asking what’s happening regarding the case. And Simone is right to tell me to ease up with the spokesperson for our clients. Yet, it pisses me off hearing my woman defend her ex.
“Someone in this company attempted to sabotage the main servers and fuck us over, Numbers,” I grit through my teeth before returning my attention to Trent. I narrow my eyes on the prick. “Have any idea who’d go to such lengths to fuck with me and my team?”
Trent blinks rapidly, looking stupidly surprised. “Why would someone do that?”
My fingers drum over the armrest of my chair, my patience dwindling. “Why do you think? Because we got too close to discovering who’s behind the thieving.”
“Shit,” Trent whispers, running a hand over his freshly shaved face. “How bad is the damage?”
“Nothing I can’t repair,” I say, crossing my arms.
Trent raises his brows. “Really?”
Is this jackass doubting my ability? Or is he surprised I can fix the situation?
“It’ll take time, but I’ll manage. In the meantime, you’ll need to inform your superiors the company servers will be out of order and explain why. They need to be made aware the case involves a member from their firm.”
“And how do you know this latest incident involves a member of the firm?” Trent argues. “I find it difficult to believe such a salacious lie. My co-workers are not crooks. An outside source is more likely. Where’s your proof of validating this ridiculous theory?”
Punk holds up the micro flash drive. “The idiot left behind a trinket. Hard for an outsider to plant something inside the company without having direct access to the building.”
“The culprit came after we left for the evening, inserting the flash drive into the main computer. When we turned on our equipment, the micro drive was activated, releasing a virus into the servers,” I explain.
Trent eyes the flash drive, licking his lips. “I see. Do you know who’s responsible for planting the virus?”
“Not yet. But we will,” Butch vows from his workstation, his attention focused on his monitor.
“And…this person, the one who planted the bug, do you believe they’re responsible for the missing funds as well?” Trent hedges, his tone cautious.
“It’s a safe assumption the two are connected.”
Trent stares at the ground, lost in thought. He sighs, his shoulders sagging. “The firm isn’t going to be happy about shutting business down for the day. I’ll explain it’s outside of your control. What should I say when they ask who’s responsible?”
