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

As I looked, my belly tied into knots.

This would be no walk in the park. I was good, but what I was seeing may take me longer than a week to crack.

The guy had alarms everywhere. He had back up security on his backups.

“Man, someone’s a little paranoid.”

It made sense. Rivera was a tech God. He’d have loads of important stuff on the system. And I suspected there were people who’d pay loads to get their hands on his designs. A little corporate espionage.

My chest locked. Probably like my new mystery employer.

I hated not knowing who the job was for. Or what I was handing over exactly.

No turning back now.

I heard a ping and froze. I scanned the screen.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

My fingers blurred as I typed. Fuck. I’d set off an alarm.

It’s okay. I wasn’t deep in the system, just on the outer layers. Besides, I was Rogue Angel. No one would be good enough to catch me.

My pulse slowed, and a sense of calm descended, along with the bite of excitement.

Yes, going somewhere you shouldn’t felt just a little exhilarating.

I’d take a look around a little more, clear my tracks, then disappear for now.

And no doubt leave the Rivera Tech security geeks scratching their heads.





Mav


He hammered the punching bag—left, right, knee, hook, kick.

Mav’s grunts and the slap of flesh on the bag filled the gym.

With a final spin, he slammed a hard roundhouse kick into the bag, sending it swinging.

Sucking in air, he pressed his hands to his knees. Sweat made his workout gear stick to his skin. He worked out a few times a week with Liam, Zane, and their tough, crusty trainer Simeon. The guy was a Krav Maga expert and a hard task master.

Mav and his friends knew early on that they didn’t want to be trailed by security or bodyguards 24/7, so they’d made a pact to learn how to defend themselves. Mav also worked out here at home, in his decked-out home gym. He liked the challenge of pushing himself, lifting weights, building strength. He also liked running on the treadmill, or punching the shit out of the punching bag. It helped clear his head.

Most of all, he loved computers and inventing new, exciting tech that solved problems. He liked nothing more than losing himself in designing a new program, or fiddling around in his lab.

Unfortunately, bringing all that to market meant meetings, business shit, financials, interviews, and people.

Yeah, he could do without the people bit.

Mav had always been the big, quiet kid growing up. He’d always felt awkward and out of place.

Until his dad had brought home an old, secondhand PC. And then Mav had met his computer studies teacher in high school. Mr. Walker was a total geek, and he’d introduced Mav to coding.

Mav had found the place where everything flowed and made sense.

His phone pinged.

Frowning, he walked to the bench against the far wall. He took a sip of water as he unlocked the new Rivera Tech prototype phone with a retinal scan.

A glowing-red notification filled the screen.

Someone had triggered an alarm on the Rivera Tech system.

Fucking hackers.

Phone in hand, he strode out of the gym and down the hall to his office. Aspen liked calling it the Batcave. It had dark-gray walls, and a long, sleek desk filled with multiple screens. He kept the blinds closed.

He dropped into his chair and swiveled. The screens flared to life.

“Good evening, Maverick,” a voice similar to the computer on Star Trek said.

“Open program Delta six.”

“Opening.”

He pulled a sleek keyboard closer and got to work.

A hacker friend of Monroe’s had gotten into his system recently, while helping her out. Mav now had Rollo on the payroll. They’d souped-up the security system a lot, and they had a lot more planned.

He also had a team of cybersecurity experts, but anyone who got too far, he liked to deal with himself.

He eyed the hacker’s trail.

Hmm, they were just doing a flyby. Skimming the outer edges and taking a peek. No doubt mapping the network to find any vulnerabilities to exploit. Then they’d plan an assault and return later.

Not happening. Mav followed the hacker. He set up a secondary program to trace the asshole.

The hacker stopped and started clearing their tracks.

Yeah, the big, bad wolf is on to you. Mav opened a chat window directly to the hacker.

Get the fuck out, asshole.

Well, you don’t mince words, do you?





Maverick raised his eyebrows. Any other hacker would be scrambling to get away.

I’m not hurting anything. Just taking a look.





Mav shook his head at the arrogance. Like the asshole was just out for a stroll.

Get gone, or you’ll regret it.

He glanced at the tracking program. The hacker was definitely in the USA. He watched the data tick by as it tried to find where. Then he’d sic the FBI onto them.

Ooh, I’m shaking in my boots.





Mav scowled. Shit, maybe he’d gotten used to people doing what he asked instantly. Not many people ever disagreed with him, or said no. He typed.

What do you want?

Nothing right now.





You think I don’t recognize network mapping when I see it?

You can’t see me, but I’m fluttering my lashes, all innocent-like.