“ATM-skimmings and cybercrime.”
“Yep.” She gnawed on her candy, her mind spinning. “That brings me to my plan. Do you want to hear it?”
“I’m on pins and needles,” he deadpanned.
“PaulVer.”
“What?”
“PaulVer Rize. You haven’t heard of him?”
“No, should I?”
“I’m disappointed, Cole. He’s only the most notorious hacker in the world. He stole more than 200 million payment card accounts from major retailers in the U.S. He created back doors in several corporate networks and pocketed an estimated 300 million dollars from one company alone.” Her pulse accelerated, and her hands fluttered through the air as she talked. She could feel herself getting excited. “He’s on fire.”
“You want him to hack into the mafia and steal the video file?”
“Yes. They would’ve made copies as a safeguard and stored them on a server somewhere. I just need PaulVer to hack in, snatch the file, and blast it all over the Internet.”
“Wow.” He leaned back and clasped his fingers behind his neck, his expression thoughtful. Then his lips curled into a smile. “That’s fucking brilliant.”
“Thank you.” She released a slow breath. “Only problem is no one knows who he is. PaulVer is his hacker name.”
“I’ll start digging around, see what I can find on him.”
“Already did that. For fourteen months, Mike and I have chased him and his hacker friends all over Europe. You know where he spends his time?”
“In strip clubs.”
“And nightclubs and anywhere there are dancing girls. No one knows what he looks like, and those who do would never say. There are a lot of rumors about him, but the one that is consistent in every club in every city he visits is that he’s drawn to talented female dancers. When he sees one that impresses him, he gives her a painted Easter egg.”
He stared at her, incredulous.
“What?” She widened her eyes. “I’m not making this up.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“I thought so, too. At first. Until I saw one of these Easter eggs with my own eyes. Then I saw more. Mike and I have literally been on an Easter egg hunt for the past year. After bouncing between strip clubs to dance clubs all over Europe, we know which clubs are his favorite and the type of girl he approaches. He targets the most beautiful, most talented dancer in the club, comes up behind her, and slips a painted egg in her hand. By the time she examines the strange object and turns around, he’s gone. No one has ever seen him.”
“Have you ever witnessed it happening?”
“No. I’m always watching for it. But I never spot an occurrence until after a girl makes a fuss over the egg in her hand and waves it around. Of course, these women have no idea the meaning or that it has anything to do with a notorious hacker. It’s not like they’re dancing in these clubs to win a painted egg. They just shrug it off. Most of them just leave the egg on a table.”
“So that’s your plan? Try to catch him handing off an egg and confront him? Then what? Make him an offer to hack the mafia for you?”
“Yes. I’ve also been trying to draw him to me. With enough glamour and the right dance moves, I was hoping he would put an egg in my hand.”
He laughed. The mean son of a bitch actually threw his head back and laughed.
“Fuck you.” She crossed her arms over her chest and flung him her most venomous glare.
His amusement cut off, and in its place rose a brooding, stony-faced, intimidating man. He stood and prowled toward her, getting right up in her face. “You are undeniably the most gorgeous woman in all of those clubs. But you can’t dance.”
“Yes, I can.” She slammed her fists on her hips and met him stare for stare, noses touching.
“Let me clarify. You can’t dance as well as the dancers I’ve seen in those clubs.” He kissed her lips. “But you can learn.”
Her chest hitched. “You like my plan.”
“I fucking love your plan. It offers the least amount of risk with the greatest chance of success. If this hacker is as good as you say, he can snatch that video file and transmit it all over the world in one night from the safety of his computer.”
“I just need to learn how to dance. You think you can teach me?”
“No. But I know someone who can.”
“Danni Savoy.” Her stomach clenched beneath a fist of insecurities.
“You good with that?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Will she agree to it?”
“I can convince her.”
Why? Did he see this as an opportunity to rekindle old flames?
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” He cupped her face and drew her mouth to his. “She’s a solution to a problem. That’s all. How badly do you want this hard drive?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Yeah. You wanted it badly enough to capture an innocent man, lock him in the dark for thirty days, and torture him with the worst thrash metal song ever created.”
She cringed. “I said I regretted nothing, but I really do regret that. I’m sorry.”
“I survived. And I’ll take hot dogs and terrible music over that stonecutter any day.”
She wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders and rested her forehead against his. “So you’ll call Danni?”
“I’ll call Trace and have them meet us in Missouri. I have a safe house there.”
“We only have until Inauguration Day. Less than a month.”
“Danni will have you dancing like a pro in less than a week. Then you’ll get your Easter egg.”
Her heart melted, falling, crashing, and breaking open for this man. “Take me to bed.”
His eyes made hungry promises as he lifted her. “I’m going to take you on this table first.”
Hours later, Cole lay in bed, staring into the sleepy, sea-green eyes of Lydia Pictam. Such an exquisite creature. Arresting. Rebellious. Fearless. Mine.
He ghosted his fingers along the outer curve of her breast, savoring the soft noises each caress drew from her cherry lips. Every touch reinforced their connection. A connection forged so deeply inside him his bones thrummed with it.
After he took her on the kitchen table, he fucked her again in the shower. Still, he couldn’t stop touching her, looking at her. She was a dream. An erotic Christmas angel.
And a remarkably good listener.
He’d spent the last couple of hours talking her ear off. He told her everything, holding nothing back. Thurney Bridge, his fake death, Danni and Trace, his career in the activity, and his current endeavors with his vigilante family.
His activities and relationships with the Freedom Fighters fascinated her the most. Her questions were hungry, her attention enraptured. She wanted to meet them, get to know them, and she would.
After their shower, he’d made several phone calls.
The first was to Matias, requesting transportation on the private jet back to the states. He wouldn’t risk putting Lydia on a commercial flight. Not with Vincent Barrington gunning for her. Matias gladly agreed to pick them up the day after Christmas and fly them to Missouri.