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

My heart melted. He was such a good dad. His girlfriend had run off when Kaylee was two. A toddler had put a real crimp in Crystal’s partying. I’d never liked her. Steve had been a single dad ever since. He’d told me numerous times that he couldn’t do it without Mama.

More weight settled on my shoulders.

Maybe I didn’t have to take this black-hat job. Maybe I could work my tail off for Killian, and Steve could pitch in, and I could take out a loan or something.

Steve dropped heavily into the chair across from me, and scraped a hand over his face.

Shit, did he know about Mama?

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He met my gaze. “Not yet. But I’ll get there.” He released a long breath. “I’ve had a few clients who haven’t paid recently. They’re having cash flow problems.”

“What?” I leaned forward. “Then they don’t get you to do work, if they don’t have the money to pay for it.”

“Cool it, Remi. They’re guys I know. They’re going through bad times. One’s filing for bankruptcy.” He sighed. “Things will just be tight for a little bit, that’s all.”

God. I stared blindly at the floor. He couldn’t help with medical costs, then. And if Mama wasn’t around to take care of Kaylee, he’d have to pay someone.

“Hey, I’ve got work to do before dinner. You got the kids?”

Steve waved a hand. “Go.”

I scooped up my laptop and raced back to my loft. All the way, I tried to swallow the bad taste in my mouth, but I thought of Mama, Steve and Kaylee, the kids…

And me.

A world without Mama Alma wasn’t one I could picture.

I had to protect my family, the same way Mama had protected me. With grim determination, I sat at the desk in my loft and opened my laptop.

Opening the browser, I went to the black-hat board. It filled the screen.

I clicked on the job.

Good day, Rogue Angel. Your reputation precedes you. I have a job that only someone of your caliber could handle.

“Yeah, yeah, flattery will get you nowhere.”

The payment for the job is one million dollars.

I gasped. Holy cow, a million bucks. I took a few steadying breaths. That was enough to get Mama her treatment. I gripped the arms of my chair. I saw Kaylee had stuck some Angel stickers on them. I scratched my nail on the glittery surface.

I’d do anything for my family.

I clicked the next page.

The job is to hack into Rivera Tech, and copy all files referring to the Calix Project.

Oh. Hell.

Rivera Tech.

One of the biggest tech companies on the planet. Hell, my laptop was Rivera Tech.

I groaned. If anyone would have top-grade security, it would be Maverick Rivera, billionaire CEO owner of Rivera Tech.

I stared at the screen and pulled up a search. I typed in his name.

A picture popped up and my heart did a little bounce. Likey, likey.

I snorted. Yeah, yeah, so does every other woman in New York City.

He was big—tall, broad shoulders. The guy had to work out, because I knew for a fact sitting behind a computer all day didn’t make you look like that. He was handsome in a rugged, rough kind of way. He had dark-bronze skin, dark-brown eyes, and stubble across a hard jaw. I was a sucker for stubble. For some reason, instead of sitting at a computer, I pictured him holding a sword, not a keyboard.

A headache bloomed behind my left eye, and I rubbed my temple. Then I opened the drawer and grabbed some gum. I chewed, hoping it would ease my anxiety.

Dammit, Rivera Tech was renowned for killer security. Hell, Rivera had invented half the stuff used on every computer today.

But no system was unbeatable. I thought of Mama, then tapped on my keyboard.

I’ll do it.

There. Done.

A message popped up almost instantly.

Very well. You have one week.

I closed my eyes. What had I gotten myself into?

I straightened and thought of Mama.

Okay. I needed to map out Rivera’s network and search for vulnerabilities. Find all the strengths and weaknesses of his system. I tapped my foot on the floor. I knew some gray-hat hacker friends, and surely someone would’ve tried to crack Rivera Tech before. They could have valuable intel for me.

I considered contacting my online hacker friend, Wesley. We’d met two years ago online. He was pure geek to the bone and lived in his mother’s basement. She cooked for him and did all his laundry.

But lately, he kept asking me out. Okay, he’d asked me out about four-hundred times. The man couldn’t take a hint and I was running out of ways to tell him I wasn’t interested without hurting him. No, I wouldn’t call Wes.

I’d send a few emails in a little bit, but right now, I could do a little flyby.

I wiggled my fingers, took a second to admire my nails, and then pulled up a window. I tapped in a command and opened a little program I’d created myself.

Okay, time to dance.

I didn’t hammer the Rivera Tech system. I danced along the edges. I sent out a few pings. Active reconnaissance involved interacting with a target. It gave more accurate information, but it came with the increased risk of getting caught by a firewall or network security.

Crap. I studied the data.

Crap. Crap. Crap on a stick.

Rivera’s system was pure beauty.

Fort Knox.

I gnawed on my lip. I wanted to take a closer look. I tapped furiously.