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Oh, Lenox. “I want to make babies with you too,” I tell him. “I might want a lot of them. I don’t know yet. But I already know, after watching you tonight and knowing you as I do, that you will be perfect for them.”
“I’m not sure I’d teach them to hack.”
“Then don’t.”
“I’d want to name one of them after Suzie.”
My heart clenches, and I rise over the console so I can kiss his cheek. “Then we will.”
“I fucking love that it’s you. No one else could ever get me like this.”
I drop my head on his shoulder for a minute. “I feel the same way about you.” Because he does get me. Even when I’m rambling nonsense, panicking over something, or simply wanting to listen to Christmas music in November while baking sugar cookies in the middle of a blizzard, he sees me, understands me, and loves me regardless. No matter what.
This… this feeling… this man… I’m married to Lenox, and it’s no longer fake. It’s everything real it’s supposed to be. I don’t know how we got here from where we started, but none of that matters anymore. The past is no longer important. All that matters is our future and where we go from here.
“Good.”
I grin. “Good.” Settling back in my seat, I smear a lather of vanilla ChapStick on my lips and comb my fingers through my hair. “Tonight was a fantastic night, but I need food and a hot shower.” We pull into the barn side of the garage, and Lenox shuts off the engine.
“Same,” he says as the garage door slowly closes, and we climb down from the truck. My bones are weary, and my muscles ache. “Go start the shower, and I’ll fix something for us.”
I don’t argue it, and frankly, he could roast me a squirrel from outside, and right now I wouldn’t complain. Much. Thankfully, he pulls some hamburger—not squirrel—meat out of the fridge along with some pasta and gets going on a very quick meat sauce. I drag myself upstairs, stripping as I go until I reach the top step, and then I am suddenly swooped off my feet. Lenox carries me into the bathroom, setting me down on the large tub and starting the shower for both of us.
“I’ll make the meat sauce when we go back down,” he tells me. “I have twelve minutes before the water starts to boil.”
“That’s barely enough time for you to fuck me.”
He grins. “I bet I can make you come twice in that time.”
“Impossible.”
“Not if I’m trying to knock you up.”
My hands meet my hips. “I have an IUD, and I didn’t say I wanted to have babies now.”
“Practice, Georgie. We need a lot of practice before we’re ready to start trying for the main event.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hacking is like chess. You’re always thinking three moves ahead and anticipating your opponent’s every play. It’s a game of strategy and skill. But unlike chess, the stakes are higher, sometimes as high as they can go. I was right about Alfie Earnheart. His public CEO of Monroe Securities face is very different from his real one. That good guy, mild-mannered, I care about you like a second father, routine is pure facade.
Simply put, Alfie Earnheart is a monster.
A soulless, remorseless psychopath. The Joker with the manufactured social image of a nun.
It’s taken me a week to feel fully confident he didn’t know I was in his system, but in that week, I lost time. Georgia’s mother shipped us Tyson Monroe’s laptop, and I’ve been sorting through that. And in doing so, that led me back to Alfie’s tonight, all of this spinning into a giant, convoluted web, and I need more time. A year wouldn’t be long enough to sort through all this and be able to put the missing pieces together.
And there are missing pieces. Several, in fact.
Georgia and I are set to leave for Boston today for the Thanksgiving holiday. I have to talk to Zax and Grey about Georgia, and while I could have done it on the phone—on any one of the five or so calls we’ve had where I felt like a guilty, lying piece of shit—they deserve to hear it from me in person. I need them to look into my eyes so they know this time everything is different.
After that, Georgia will be flying to LA for her board meeting, and I’ll be joining her.
Georgia is not safe anywhere near Alfie. Or Ezra.
If all goes to plan, I can make this happen fast and remove them. If not, that poses the challenge.
I’ve spent the last six hours combing through piles of data, text messages, and emails. I’ve been cross-matching that with dates and timelines from Tyson Monroe’s information. I have things I have to tell Georgia. Things that will hurt her greatly, but things she has to know about all the same.
