Hacking Mr. CEO (Billionaire Heists #3) by Anna Hackett

We couldn’t lose Mama.

It was so unfair. My face twisted. She’d given so much. Was so loving and selfless. I wanted to scream, or throw something.

Without stopping to think, I opened my laptop. I tapped quickly, heading into a dark part of the Web.

I was a white-hat hacker. I legally hacked to test client systems. White hats were usually employed by the government or security companies.

Okay, I was a white-hat hacker with a dash of gray. Gray hats had no agenda, and hacked for fun.

Black-hat hackers on the other hand…

My stomach coiled. I left a note on a black-hat message board.

Rogue Angel available.

I couldn’t let Mama die.





Mav


Maverick Rivera finished tying his bowtie and shrugged into his tuxedo jacket.

He headed for the door, sending one last glance at the naked woman lying facedown in the bed, sound asleep.

He didn’t leave his number. He never did. He’d met her in the bar downstairs. He only hooked up with women who wanted exactly what he did—a few hours of no-strings attached sex.

Heading out of the hotel room, he made his way down to the ballroom.

He scowled at the din of the crowd.

Another damn party to go to.

This shindig was for some veterans’ charity his friend Liam supported. Mav would prefer to be home with a glass of scotch, or in his lab. Still, as his friends liked to remind him, he had to be social sometimes, and at least this one was for a good cause.

He stepped into the ballroom. It looked like half of New York society was here.

The room was bathed in golden light. Huge, gold candelabras adorned the circular tables.

Outside, snow was falling. He scanned the space, looking for his two best friends. Usually, the three of them would sample the scotch, make a donation, and avoid the society mamas out to marry their daughters off to billionaires.

But things had changed recently.

His gut clenched, and he nabbed a server to order a scotch on the rocks. “Macallan, if you have it.”

The man nodded. “Right away, sir.”

When Mav turned back, he spotted Zane on the dance floor. The King of Wall Street was smiling down at the woman he held tight in his arms. Monroe wore a long, silver dress that sparkled, her long, black hair loose over her shoulders.

Mav had met Zane Roth and Liam Kensington at college. They’d all become friends, brothers. Each of them had gone on to make their fortunes: Zane in finance, Liam in property and development, and Mav in tech.

Unfortunately, that also painted targets on their backs.

Another couple whizzed past, laughing with Zane and Monroe.

Liam had some smooth moves on the dance floor. He came from money—he could dance, hobnob with perfect manners, and wore a tux like he’d been born in one.

He held his new girlfriend, and the love of his life, tucked against him. Aspen’s platinum-blonde hair was up tonight, leaving her shoulders bare. She wore a column of black that hugged her athletic body, and flared out at her knees. Liam’s tailor was having a grand time dressing the woman.

Yeah, the billionaire bachelors of New York were no more. There was only him now, and he’d never get married.

“Your drink, sir.”

He lifted his chin at the server, and accepted his drink.

Mav had long-ago learned that trusting a woman was a fool’s game. They wanted all kinds of things, but mostly they wanted money.

He glanced at his friends and their women. He’d had his doubts about Monroe and Aspen at first—but it hadn’t taken him long to like them. And what they brought to his friends.

The couples were in love. Mav sipped his scotch again, grudgingly admitting that they were the exception that proved the rule.

Love was for idiots.

He had Hannah to thank for that lesson.

His final year of college, he’d met a smart, pretty, girl-next-door. She’d been blonde, blue-eyed, tall and slim. She’d fallen for him, and he’d fallen for her. In truth, she’d fallen for his first billion dollars.

He’d just sold his first invention—a new computer chip. Money had been about to come pouring in, and there’d been articles about him.

He’d never suspected Hannah wasn’t the real deal. That pretty face, the earnest smile, the good sex. Fuck, he’d bought her flowers. He tossed back the rest of his drink.

Ancient fucking history.

He should be thanking Hannah. She’d taught him a valuable lesson.

“Mav.” The dark-haired Zane appeared and slapped Mav’s back. Monroe leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Hey,” Mav said.

“The great man emerges from his Batcave,” a female voice drawled.

He shot Aspen a scowl, and the private investigator just smiled. Liam kept an arm around her and reached out to shake Mav’s hand.

They were both healing up well after being trapped in a burning warehouse. Liam and Aspen had been embroiled in some trouble recently.

“Hey, any luck stopping those hacks on Rivera Tech?” Liam asked.

Last week, the system at Rivera Tech had been hammered by a string of hacking attempts. It lasted for a few days, and kept Mav and his team busy. Then it had stopped.

The hackers had either given up, or they’d hired someone better.

“They stopped. I’ve been busy increasing system security since then,” Mav said. “How are things with you?”