Filthy Rich (Filthy Rich 1)

“You gave a good impression in Chicago of having moved past being angry about that.”

“I’m an excellent actor when I need to be.”

“Damn, you are cold.” He sounded pleased. I heard him take a sip of something. “Go ahead.”

Here’s the thing: Alex was the only one of us with a prison record. He wasn’t a career criminal, but he did have a certain willingness to cross lines that the rest of us couldn’t or wouldn’t cross. He knew people the rest of us didn’t know. Even as a teenager, Alex knew things like how to hotwire a car or how to spot an undercover cop patrolling our shitty neighborhood. He knew which guys on which corners sold what, even though none of us ever bought anything. When we first rented our apartment together all of us were underage, which meant none of us wanted to get caught up in the system. Knowledge was power, and Alex had a natural talent for the right kind of knowledge.

“I’m going to forward you the report I got,” I told him. “There are a lot of details, but the basics are that the Egerton brothers possibly stole the original code for their stupid, multimillion-dollar app from a rival six years ago.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Alex asked.

“Probably because you have an IQ to speak of.”

“That’s information that could make their investor value tank right before their IPO.”

“Certain people would see it that way, yes.”

“And where is the former rival now?”

“That’s the funny thing. At first he tried to sue. It got pretty far, but then the case was dropped. No settlement or legal agreement. It was just dropped and the man moved to Florida.”

“Maybe he likes beaches and malls. I hear it’s beautiful there.”

“Maybe a thirty-year-old programmer is a little out of place amongst the retirees.”

“Sounds like an interesting theory. Why don’t you pay your investigator to dig him up?”

“Because I don’t completely trust him,” I replied. “Because this has to be done right, which means no leaks. Because I want this guy dug up, and I don’t really care what means are used.”

Alex took another sip of whatever alcohol he was drinking. “Let me get this straight, Aidan. You’re asking me to leave my very important position brokering deals for Tower VC and go to Florida, so you can take completely insane revenge on two guys who made comments about your assistant’s ass.”

“And her pussy,” I said, because I was still pissed about it. “Otherwise yes, you’re correct. Come on, Alex. Doing oil and ranching deals has you bored out of your mind. You want a challenge.”

He was quiet for a second, and then he said, “What I want, apparently, is some alligator repellant and a mosquito net.”

I smiled to myself in triumph. “Thank you. Enjoy yourself.”

“You know, you’re right. I probably will. What do we tell the others?”

Dane and Noah weren’t going to be brought in on this little scheme. Not until it was already over. “I’ll convince them you’re on vacation,” I said.

Alex snorted. “Good luck with that, but that’s your problem. I’m off to buy some SPF 50.”

After I hung up, I had a brief moment of second thoughts. Samantha likely wouldn’t approve of what I was doing. Not that she had any affection for the Egerton brothers, but she wasn’t the type of person to take out a long, protracted, expensive revenge.

I was.

I’d told her I wasn’t a very good person.

Besides, it didn’t matter. Tomorrow, we weren’t going to be ourselves anyway.

I picked up my phone and texted her. Jacques Bar, 10:20 p.m.

I had told her to wait for my instructions, and here they were. Bossy and a little imperious. I’d made the time puzzlingly specific in order to throw her off her game.

There was an agonizing minute in which I got no response, and then another. Finally, a single word came through by text:

Yes