Seducing Fortune (A Serendipity Novel Book 3) by Brinda Berry Page B

glass wall.
    “That’s when you discovered her dad hacking?”
    “Well, yeah, but I didn’t know what I was getting into. So, I went to my professor and asked what I should do. He said I could report it anonymously. I wasn’t even supposed to be monitoring. My project was checking security against my own hacks. Not monitoring in other areas, but I was bored and had extra time on my hands and—”
    He slaps a hand on the wall. “Fuck.”
    “Jordy, calm down. You turned him in. That was the right thing to do. How did you find Emerson in the strip club?”
    “I learned about the case and that the hacker had been prosecuted. I nosed around and found he had kids. A senior in high school and a younger one. I’ve kept tabs on them this whole time.”
    “Wow. You’re a regular cyber stalker.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “Hey. I was kidding. Maybe if you tell Emerson...” I can’t finish the sentence because I realize how stupid it is. Emerson will hate him.
    “Not a chance. I’m only telling you so you’ll understand why I’m worried about her situation. You’ve got to promise you won’t say anything. Come on. She’ll be out of our lives before you can blink. She needs the money. She was maxed on her credit cards. Maxed on student loans. But I wanted to help her and that’s why I gave her the job.”
    My mind wanders as his last statements ring in my head. She lives in a shithole. What does she do with her money? I try to focus on the immediate problem. “I won’t tell her. Your secret is safe. Try not to have a coronary.”
    “The other day I got the license plate number from my guy.” Jordy gulps in air, obviously more nervous than he’s been since entering the room.
    “Go ahead. We’ll work this out. You found out who is following Emerson and broke in...”
    “I don’t know.” He waits a beat and rubs a hand over his eyes. “My friend has security clearances beyond the DMV. I don’t know what’s going on, but the license plate belongs to the feds.”

Story of My Life
Emerson
    T he parking lot of Iggie’s Pizzeria is packed, like it always is on Friday nights. Dylan opens the car door for me and extends a hand to help me out. His hand is warm and large. His fingers tighten around mine for a second when he smiles at me.
    My heart does a funny little jumping jack in response. How many girls have jumped into his bed over that smile alone? That last pair of lacy panties on his dresser six months ago should tell me plenty.
    Dylan said we were going to hang out like friends. It’s not like a date or anything. I’d insisted on that. When he doesn’t release his hold, I tug my hand from his reluctantly. There’s a flash of something in his eyes that I’m not sure about. “Thanks,” I murmur.
    Dylan leans in near my ear. “Holding my hand is harmless.”
    The wind blows my hair back from my face and I shiver. “Harmless as petting a tiger.”
    He laughs low as if the analogy makes him happy. The sound tickles my insides, giving me the distinct urge to burrow my face into the hollow of his neck where I can feel the sound against my lips.
    I pull in a gulp of cold air to sober myself. He was the one saying we’d be friends. I’m the one having trouble with that.
    We head toward the neon lights that illuminate the door. A couple of guys approach the restaurant from the sidewalk and Dylan moves his hand around my back possessively. So much for avoiding physical contact.
    I look at his profile in the dim lighting. He’s watching the men as they slow, allowing us to enter. At first, I think maybe he knows them by the way he continues to stare, but I must be wrong because no one speaks.
    Dylan opens the door to Iggie’s since he’s a perfect gentleman when he wants to be. The hostess grabs two menus and asks us to follow her. She proceeds to seat us in the center of the restaurant.
    Dylan hesitates and looks to the back of the room. “Could you put us somewhere else?” He gives her a sultry smile.