Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Mark’s jaw sets. He won’t look up from the floor as she waits impatiently.
“Okay! My turn,” Hannah says with a hint of a brutal smile. “Jacob from IT found the missing drone this morning—the real one—and turned it in. Its transponder was barely working. The unit was broken apart, sitting in a dumpster behind a Sweeter Grind café in Ballard. It seems Mark removed the tracking chip from the prototype before he stole it, but not the embedded backup GPS chip you decided to have installed for additional security. Presumably so he could use it to track you on your sea otter excursion.”
My eyes snap to Mark like angry hornets.
I’m ready to tear his head off, but there’s one nagging question first.
“How?” I clip. “The research lab is locked down tighter than a vault.”
This time, Hannah smiles.
“Well, it seems he forgot his access badge automatically logs entry, even if he’s not authorized for access. The only time he entered the product development lab was with Carol Garcia at the same time—or rather, with her badge. That’s how he disarmed the tracking chip and stole the unit from the lab. Carol confirmed she lost her badge and went looking for half an hour, right around the time Mr. Cantor generously supplied her with a cinnamon roll and coffee at her desk. He had no business being there without her,” Hannah rattles off. “Honestly, I might not have noticed the discrepancy enough to ask, except for the fact that Mr. Cantor brought three teams cinnamon rolls from the very same Sweeter Grind shop on five different occasions. Circumstantial, yes, but when I found him working late and decided to ask about his lab visit with Carol, he wasn’t exactly cooperative.”
Yeah.
I don’t deserve this brilliant of an assistant.
With my arms folded, I turn my attention to Mark, whose jaw works tightly. His fists are clenched. I know the look of a man who’s trying like mad to come up with believable lies to save his skin.
“Is it true?” I ask blankly.
He stays deathly quiet.
“Answer Mr. Foster, please,” Hannah says, her voice as frigid as mine. “There’s no point in lying, Mr. Cantor. I practically caught you red-handed.”
Finally, he looks up, his eyes narrowed, staring straight at me.
“Fine, fine,” he snaps. “Yeah, I did it. I took the drone. I also got access to Hannah’s schedule book, so I knew exactly where you were. I traced the route from Destiny’s pictures. I followed you with the drone. I took the pictures. There, happy?”
Not while this little punk is still breathing.
“And then?” Hannah presses.
Mark hesitates, his mouth twisting until he sighs.
“Then... then I sold them to Adriana Cerva.” For the first time, he grins like he’s proud of himself. “If you want me to say I’m sorry, I won’t. Honestly, people like you deserve to be dragged through the mud. Greedy billionaire pricks, hoarding your money and handing out the easy rewards to girls you want to bang. You leave the scraps to guys like me, barely enough to make a damn living in this city. And dude, I know she’s pretty, but she’s almost young enough to be your daughter.”
My fist feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as I strain to hold it back from caving his face in.
“You done, little man?” I grind out.
He nods.
“Just so I understand, you decided to slink around like a coward and help soulless assholes spin rumors because you feel entitled to my money? My life? Is that it?”
His face wrinkles with jealousy again.
“What did you even do to deserve it, Foster? I’m glad I took those photos.” He steps back and throws his hands up. “Fuck it, I should’ve done more. Ruined you forever, and that stupid girl, too. She’s another Insta-slut, using her looks for favors. Sleeping with you to get ahead.”
He’s visibly shaking now. It’s a whimper against the hurricane in my blood.
“You done?” I growl again.
“No. She pretends to be all sweet, but I know better. For a rich guy, you’re pretty oblivious. She’s a Lancaster. She’s never worked an honest day in her life.”
The bullshit he’s spewing sends rage charging through me, but I don’t need to do anything to him. He’s incriminating himself perfectly well without my help.
Hannah gives me a knowing look. I already know she has everything documented and she’s probably crawling out of her skin to play witness.
“Anything else you want to add, Cantor?” I demand.
“Yeah—fuck you! I hope you die alone of stomach cancer in a sewer. Always acting like you’re better than us, than me.”
Entitled little shit.
He can’t even come up with decent insults.
“I think that should do it,” Hannah says flatly. “Washington is a two-party consent state, meaning we can’t directly record this conversation without his permission. However, every employee agrees to corporate security terms when they accept any position here. That includes consenting to anything captured by the security cameras in this hallway.”