Page 4 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

two

CASSIA

I try to let go of the irritation that’s been slithering through my veins since my encounter with Mace earlier today.

Lately, I’ve been frustrated more than I care to admit, and I can’t blame it all on him.

There’s a tight ball in my chest that pulses, as if it has a heartbeat of its own.

The countdown of a bomb that’s set to detonate.

I don’t know how to let it go. Sometimes I’m terrified one simple thing will push me over the edge and it’ll explode.

Exhaling, I stare into the murky blue depths of the deep end of the pool. I imagine who I would have been if not for all the death that surrounded me. Mom. Dad. Mimi. Magic isn’t real, but sometimes, I can’t help wondering if the Harris line is cursed. Everyone I loved died before they should have.

At nine-o’clock at night, the gym is dead, and no one is in the pool.

Exactly how I like it. I raise my arms over my head, take another sip of chlorinated air, and dive in.

Cool water encases my body and smooths over my skin as I torpedo to the bottom and glide until my lungs burn.

As the sensation drives me to the surface, I push off the concrete, breaking through the water with a gasp and sucking in a deep breath.

I dip below the water once more and do it again, cutting back and forth across the pool.

Suffocating the dread that tries to settle on my chest.

When my limbs are jelly and my mind is exhausted, I take one last lap, pushing myself hard, ignoring the ache in my lungs and side.

I move through the water until I reach the other side of the pool, coming up with a hard inhale, which is immediately followed by a scream. There’s a man crouched before me.

My heart leaps into my throat. I push off the edge of the pool, creating distance, and rip off my goggles. Long, stringy dark hair. A hooked nose. A cross dangling from one earlobe.

“ Ian ? What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me.”

He grimaces. “I need your help.”

“I have a phone. You could have called,” I blurt, treading water.

His eyes bounce around the room before coming back to mine. “Too much risk.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, swimming a little closer but still keeping a good few feet between us.

I’ve seen too many thrillers where the woman is drowned.

Even though I’ve known Ian since college—we ventured into the darknet together—we went different directions.

Ian always took things a little too far.

Maybe that’s finally caught up to him.

“Not here.” He stands and takes a few steps back.

“Okay...” Taking advantage of the opportunity, I grasp the edge of the wall and pull myself out. The cool air of the aquatics center sends a shiver down my spine. I snatch my towel off the bench and wrap it around my body. “Where, then?”

Ian’s gaze flits around again, paranoia riding him hard. “Can we go to your place?”

My gut clenches, and I hesitate. I know Ian, sure, but it’s been years since I’ve seen him. Not to mention, he’s kind of freaking me out. What kind of trouble is he in?

“I know it’s weird.” Ian shifts on his feet, eyes jumping around the room. “In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t ask, but you’re the only person I can trust right now.”

A general rule hackers live by is trust no one, especially another hacker . Unease swirls in my chest.

“Why?”

“Not here,” he says again quickly. “We had a pact, remember? Please , Cassia.”

My eyes flutter closed. The pact. If either of us needed it, the other would help.

No questions asked. We were in college when we made it.

Something isn’t right, I should say no, but the desperation in his tone has me relenting.

If I needed help, I hope he’d keep our pact.

“Fine, but I want to ask questions,” I say, giving him a stern look.

“I’ll answer what I can.”

Meaning, there are things that are either really against the law or things that would put me in danger. This is probably a bad idea.

“I need to change. I’ll meet you outside?”

He nods, gaze pinging around the space again, as if he expects someone to jump out and scream gotcha! Warning bells go off inside my head. But we had an agreement. Besides, how bad can his situation be?

It’s bad.

Like, really, really bad.

“So, let me get this straight. You either do this job, or these... Russian guys kill you?” It’s a down and dirty summary of his twenty-minute monologue where he recounted all the bad decisions that got him here.

Ian nods from his seat on my couch. “Sounds about right.”

Ian fucked around and found out. He’s indentured to the fucking bratva, and if I don’t help him, they’re going to kill him.

Across from him, I twist my computer chair from side to side, a nervous habit I’ve never been able to break. “And why do you need my help?” He’s a great hacker, better than me in some areas.

“No one understands Rex Technologies’ firewalls like you do.”

That’s only because I spent years figuring out how they kept detecting me and kicking me out. I don’t like failing. I especially don’t like failing when Mace is involved. But I can’t agree to help out of spite. That would be too petty, right?

“And the job is?” Petty is my middle name.

Ian blows out a shaky breath. “A wire transfer.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the catch?” There has to be more to it than that.

Ian shrugs. “That’s all they told me. Believe me, I tried to do it on my own, but I can’t even get past the stupid firewall. They must have made an update.”

“Try ten,” I grumble, planting my foot on the ground and stopping my side-to-side motion. “The feds have been on the hunt,” I remind him. “How serious are these guys about killing you?”

He blanches.

Great . My pulse thrums through my veins. He’s seriously terrified. I have to help him. Sighing, I spin my chair toward my wall of monitors and wiggle my mouse. “What’s the bank?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ian says in a rush, hopping off the couch. “First Bank of New York.”

I side-eye him as I type in the URL. Can I trust Ian? “If this comes back on me?—”

“It won’t.” He places his palms on the desk and watches the screen. “As far as they know, I did it. I would never put you in danger.”

I’m skeptical he can keep such a promise, but I can’t have his death on my conscience. It’s one transaction. How much trouble can it cause?