Hate F*@k: The Complete Story Read online

  “Something that has come up in the course of my interviews. Gerome Lively—” Leanne glances at Wilson, and I follow her gaze. His face is an unreadable mask. “He’s a British financier with property around the world. Your father has visited his compound in the Bahamas many times over the last ten years.”

  Memories flash. My parents fighting when my father returned from a business trip. My mother, half in the bag, tossing words at him that shocked and scared me, so I shoved them out of my head until now. “I’ve never traveled with my father out of the country.”

  “Have your sisters?”

  “No.” The denial comes fast. I don’t actually know if it’s true about Taylor, but I’m certain Alison’s never gone to the Caribbean with him. My mother prefers Hawaii and Europe, and both of my parents prefer not to take children on their separate vacations. We’re inconvenient. My stomach turns at the new implications of that long-accepted reality.

  Did my father just have a general disdain for us all, or did he actively hide a gross part of his life from his family for all this time?

  I want to throw up. Instead, I smile, not giving a fuck if it reaches my eyes. It doesn’t.

  Leanne pauses before lifting the recorder and turning it off. “If you think of something along those lines…please get in touch with me.”

  “I will.” I say it automatically, being polite to the person who’s just quietly blown apart my world. I should be used to having the unthinkable dropped in my lap. I’m not. And I won’t contact her again, no matter what. But I lie and promise I will because it’s the right thing to say.

  After she leaves, I shove Wilson’s knitting project back into his hands and tidy up the mugs, then go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. When I come back, he’s added two inches of perfect rows to his scarf. Interesting.

  “You’ve gotten quite good at that all of a sudden. Who is Gerome Lively?”

  “You heard her. He’s one of the richest men in the world.” The needles clicked and his fingers flashed as he whipped through one last row before casting off as I stared at him. “Here you go. A present.”

  I scowl at the knitted square. “She wasn’t asking about a society puff piece. Who is he and what does my father have to do with him?”

  “Your father is also one of the richest men in the world.”

  “And?”

  “And they’re both dangerous. Kinky as fuck, and not in the good way.” He shoves himself up to stand. “I shouldn’t be the one to tell you about this.”

  “I’m not sure anyone else will.” Cold, slimy revulsion squirms through my gut. “Like, more of what my father did last year?”

  “Probably.”

  “And you guys help them?” My voice is fluttery, full of panic and disgust.

  “No. No! What happened six months ago…that was a…” He clenches his jaw and presses his lips together. “I can’t tell you anything about that, but no, we’re not on the same side of anything as Gerome Lively. He’s a vile human being.”

  “And my father vacations with him.”

  “No good comes from you asking more about that.”

  “Do you know more?”

  He doesn’t answer, and my blood boils.

  “Does Cole know more about that?”

  I want to hear no. Instead, he doesn’t say anything. “Fine. Be difficult. But be difficult somewhere else, we’re done with this nonsense. I’m going back to my regular life now.”

  He makes a reluctant face and tucks his computer away in his bag. “Are you okay?”

  I think about lying, but he already knows the truth. “No. I need to talk to my younger sister.”

  “Do you want her to come here?”

  I nod.

  “I’ll go and get her.”

  “Seriously, Wilson, you can go back to whatever work you’re doing. This is…” The usual Reid bullshit. “This is beyond the scope of whatever it is you guys are doing to rescue Taylor’s reputation.”

  He frowns at me. “Cole’s not going to like that.”

  “Well, bully for him. This is my personal life, and until it hits the pages of a magazine, I’d like to keep it that way. Personal. Private. Family only.” It’s kind of a ridiculous thing to say to a hacker. I’m sure Wilson knows all sorts of things about me that I don’t even know myself.

  He just shrugs, like that’s my fight to wage with Cole.

  Maybe it is.

  Bring it on.

  —eight—

  Cole

  Wilson knows something he doesn’t want me to know.

  He doesn’t have a lot of tells, but this is one that he hasn’t been able to shake—dropping into stealth mode. I’m pacing in the conference room, waiting for him to return, and he slips right past me. I don’t see him come in. But I do hear his computer power up in his office.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as I stride into his office.

  He doesn’t look up. “Hang on.”

  “No. You knew I was waiting and you snuck past me like a ninja. Obviously the interview didn’t go off without a hitch. Spill.”

  “Wow. You used your keen observational skills to deduce that I was in my office. Lights on, door open.” He punches in his password, then starts scrolling through a blur of files on his desktop. “We need to talk, I just need to find some information first.” He glances up and blinks at the expression on my face. Then he throws me a bone. “Hailey is fine.”

  “I wasn’t—” I cut myself off. “Shut up. You’re not Dr. Ruth.”

  He frowns. “She’s a sex therapist, not a relationship expert. You meant—”

  “Again, shut up. What do we need to talk about?”

  He pulls out his phone and texts someone. Jason or Tag, presumably. “Gerome Lively.”

  Fuck. I knew this was there, in the background. Eventually, Morgan Reid’s friendship with Lively would bite him in the ass, as it should, because they’re both twisted fucks. But not yet. “How?”

  He grabs his tablet and brushes past me. He talks as we walk to the conference room, and by the time the big screen lights up, I’m fuming.

  “So, yeah. Vanity Fair is digging into him. She didn’t say either way, but I’m sure they’re going to talk to the Feds, so Jason needs to talk to his guy. Find out where this puts Reid and the others we’re watching here.”

  “It could take years to unfold. Fuck. I mean, this could be the break we need, but PRISM isn’t going to be happy if someone shows their hand too soon and he manages to cover his ass.”

  With the flick of a finger, Wilson throws ten pictures of teenage girls on the screen. He doesn’t need to explain them to me. All missing. All flew out of the country on business class tickets to various points on the globe and then bounced out of sight.

  It’s a case we’ve been working for nine months. It’s why I took Morgan Reid’s case. I need him to lead me to Lively.

  Nothing else matters.

  Nothing else mattered.

  I’m not giving up on the mission because of Hailey, but I can’t pretend my loyalty isn’t divided.

  It’s divided as fuck. And if push comes to shove, she wins.

  I’m not even sure she likes me, unless I’m naked in her bed, and she still wins. She’ll always win, because the only thing I’ve truly believed in in years, is her goddamn earnestness. Her righteous indignation over the shades of gray that rule my world and how she doesn’t hesitate to tell me I’m full of shit.

  She’s fearless. I keep thinking of her as innocent, but only in spirit—pure, good. Lightness and grace. She’s not innocent of the evils in this world—even less so today, apparently—but she still believes that’s an aberration, an other, in a world of order and justice and common decency.

  Hardly.

  I know better than anyone how that darkness lurks under the skin of so-called good men and women everywhere. And when those people have power, it’s my job to take that knowledge and use it when necessary. Hoard it when it’s not.

  “It
’ll be good for them if this cracks now.” Wilson says it quietly, but there’s an edge to his voice.

  I glare at him. “What does that mean?” I know full well he means the girls. I want him to have the fucking balls to say that to my face, because I would never choose to keep them in peril if I had choice in the matter.

  It turns out the edge is something else. “This isn’t convenient timing for you.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I grind out. “And if you think for a second Hailey would want me to avoid dealing with this, you underestimate us both.” I flick my gaze away from him and look back at the screen. “It’s only bad if he scuttles under a rock.”

  Wilson pauses before changing the subject slightly. “That new bug you put on Morgan Reid’s cell phone is giving us some information.”

  Morgan’s company had changed cell phone service providers right around the time his oldest daughter, Taylor, decided to blow the Vice President and record it for posterity. Or publicity, the jury was still out on her motivation. I noticed he didn’t have it on him when we were there last time, discussing the magazine article. Took a chance he charged it in his office and won.

  I’d just managed to place a listening device in it and slide back into the hallway when Hailey found me. The one and only night I’ve spent with her.

  We’d been a little distracted the last two weeks, but Wilson had been digging shit up on the sex tape Hailey’s sister had accidentally-on-purpose starred in. It wasn’t looking good for Taylor Reid, but since we’re bastards, that would stay our secret.

  It never ends.

  “What do you mean? Texts? Phone calls?”

  “Both. Regular travel plans at first blush. It didn’t click for me until the interview this afternoon, but Morgan is going to Miami weekend after next. For four days.”

  Which meant a helicopter ride to Lively’s private island. “Disgusting.”

  “You should go with him.”

  I recoil as if Wilson’s physically hit me. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re not my fucking boss.”

  Behind me, Jason laughs as he enters the room and paces to the head of the conference table. “None of us would ever try to own you, Cole. You have a tendency to turn rabid too often. What does Wilson want to make you do?”

  “Go to Gerome Lively’s Bahamas compound with Morgan Reid.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Fuck you, too.” I can’t. Fuck me, I didn’t think this choice would come this quickly. But I choose Hailey, no second thoughts. “Whoever goes will have to fuck the women. I can’t do that.”

  The temperature in the room drops ten degrees as Jason says nothing. His silence says it all, but then he opens his mouth and makes it so much worse. “You’ve never had a problem with orgies in the past.”

  Before I can launch myself at him, Tag is there, holding me back.

  “Get off me,” I spit, my muscles clenched and ready for battle. “When the hell did you get here, anyway?”

  “Just before Jason decided to masterfully push all your pervert buttons, you idiot. Stop.”

  “It’s not the same thing,” I growl, as surprised as my friend that I’m on edge about my sexual history now. Anything—everything—I’ve ever done has been with consensual adults. Sometimes more than one at a time. Often more than one at a time. Until Hailey, I’d never wanted anything to be private. Personal. Intimate.

  “He knows that. What the hell is wrong with you?” Tag shoves me again for good measure and turns to the others.

  Seething, I back off, but I’m not listening to them anymore. I’m rattled and edgy, and ready to just bring in the FBI or the CIA. Anyone who will take this filth and put it in jail where it belongs.

  I pace back and forth, stopping just shy of Tag each time. He’s planted himself between me and our other partners, and he’s waving his hands in the air. I suck in another lungful of air and try to dial down the asshole-reaction long enough to hear him. It’s fucking hard.

  Tag ends his tirade with a summation that I appreciate, since it means at least half of us are on the side of me not getting too friendly with Lively. “This is not what we are. We don’t go undercover and we don’t ever suggest to each other that we do anything illegal.”

  “He picked up a fucking gun and happily got himself arrested for murder the other day. He’s not a fucking fragile flower.” Jason glowers in my direction as he says this. “Until it comes to a woman he has no business fuck—”

  “Finish that thought and Tag won’t be able to hold me back,” I grind out.

  Wilson rolls his eyes and stands up. “Okay, let’s wind this back to what needs to be done before deciding who will do it.”

  He catches up Jason and Tag on what we know, and what the Vanity Fair reporter said to Hailey during the interview. My skin crawls at the thought of her and her sister processing this shit all alone right now.

  “So shit’s about to hit the fan for Lively.”

  “About to…or will in a few months…or maybe never. Who knows who he has in his pocket? Isn’t that why we’re on it, too? Because PRISM doesn’t trust that he’ll ever be prosecuted, and he can bring down too many big fish?” I shake my head at some of the names we’re protecting. “Seriously, you don’t want to send me to the Caribbean with Reid. I may just massacre the lot of them.”

  Jason snorts. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea I’ve entertained, except for the whole global destabilization thing.”

  “Hell of a side effect to justice.” Launching us into World War III is exactly what PRISM is trying to avoid. The true cost of that disgusts me, but I understand their mission. I don’t always understand the domino effect of things that they think they can see. Jason does, more than me. Instinct? Intuition? Sometimes I act on them, when I’m not thinking too hard. But I never trust my gut, not really.

  I learned early on how emotional responses can lead people to devastating consequences.

  It turned me into the hard-ass motherfucker I am today, and usually, I’m just fine with that. Not so much tonight. It feels like I’ve got razor blades under my skin and a fucking marching band of monkeys inside my chest.

  Wilson points at Jason. “You need to get us some direction. Figure out what the puppet masters want us to do. Then we can decide who should do whatever it is that needs to be done.” Now he’s pointing at me. “You need to admit that you’re not just sleeping with the Reid girl.”

  I shift uncomfortably and cross my arms. “I have no idea what I’m doing with Hailey.” God’s honest truth, right there. “I swear. I haven’t shared because…”

  When I trail off, Tag clears his throat. “I get it. Shit gets complicated, it’s hard to talk about.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Seriously?” Jason shakes his head. “No. No relationships, no women, no falling in love. Cole here is proof positive that it makes men weak.”

  “Distracted, maybe. Not weak.” Tag shrugs. “If someone threatened Kendra, I’d rip them apart, limb from limb.”

  “You know she divorced your sorry ass, right?”

  Another shrug. “We don’t live well together. Doesn’t mean she’s not important to me. Doesn’t mean I can’t still do my job while wanting to keep her safe.”

  I want to ask Tag how to balance this shit out, still care about the job and care about the woman at the same time. Because I feel fucking tilted. Instead I nod. “Yeah. What he said.”

  “He loves Kendra. Is that how you feel about Hailey Dashford Reid? Sweet, good girl daughter of the rich and famous, who has rejected everything your sexy ass in a tux represents?” Jason snorts. “You know there’s not a chance in hell of that working out, right?”

  Is this love? If it is, I fucking hate it. It’s painful and uncomfortable, distracting and not nearly naked enough.

  “Little early to call it anything. I care about her. More than I expected to, I’ll grant you that. You saw that coming, I guess.” I’d wanted her for months. Th
ought that if I had her, I could get her out of my system. Turns out I wasn’t the only one in the equation, and Hailey wanted more. Fuck me, I needed more. We both did. And do.

  Two weeks might be my limit.

  Jason just shakes his head. “It’s almost morning in Geneva. I’ll stay up and make some calls. What we need here is some cooling off time. Take the night, get your head on straight, and let’s discuss a game plan over breakfast tomorrow. Deal?”

  We shake on it, and I go back to my office. At the other end of the hall, Jason closes his door without looking back at me. Beside him, Wilson leaves his door open, but flicks off his light. He’s about to fall deep into a pile of computer code and probably won’t sleep before breakfast.

  Tag just shrugs at me, apparently his favorite gesture today, grabs his bag and hits the stairs.

  I should leave, too. Instead, I log into my computer and pull up the video feed of Hailey’s apartment. We have cameras on the front entrance and her door. I choose the latter and hit rewind. Two hours back, I see Hailey and Alison leaving together. I immediately flip to the front door camera and time synch the feeds, to get a clue as to where they’re going, but Hailey just waits for a town car to pull up for Alison, hugs her goodbye, then heads back inside. I watch her climb the stairs, and if she just locked herself into her apartment, I’d have powered down and gone home.

  Instead, she stops on the landing outside her apartment, her hand on the handle, and looks up at the camera.

  The look on her face—tight, drawn, sad—destroys me.

  And I head for the door.

  —nine—

  Hailey

  It takes me a minute to realize why I’ve woken up. It was the creak of the front door that did it, or maybe the beep of the alarm system as he turned it off. I’m not sure, because my first fully conscious observation of the apartment is total silence.

  What the hell just woke me up?

  Then I hear footsteps.

  He’s not trying to be quiet, not really. I have no doubt, if he wanted to be quiet, I wouldn’t know he was here until he was on top of me. I shiver against my will, hating how much that excites me.