The Redemption (11 page)

“Well, yes, of course.” Henn flashes a sideways smile at Kat like he’s about to tell her a great joke. “But let me show you how I tell the good guys from the bad guys. It’s foolproof.” He looks right at Sarah. “Sarah, are you a good guy or a bad guy?”

“A good guy,” Sarah says.

“And there you go.”

Sarah shrugs like it makes perfect sense. “And there you go.”

I scoff. “But who would ever say they’re one of the bad guys? Who would even
think
that about themselves? People are brilliant at justifying their actions to themselves—trust me, I should know.”

“Well,
yeah
,” Henn concedes. “But I don’t always
believe
people when they say they’re one of the good guys. In fact, I rarely do. If I
believe
them, the way I just believed Miss Cruz here, then that’s good enough for me.”

“Aw, you believe me, Henn?” Sarah asks.

“I do. Indubitably.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Of course.”

I shrug. It’s hard to argue with that logic, actually. If I were to boil my own business philosophy down to its barest essence, I suppose I operate in exactly the same way. And, really, what other option do I have right now than to trust this guy? If Josh does, then I guess I do, too.
Indubitably.
 

“Sometimes, it’s a no-brainer,” Henn continues. “Like when a job comes from Josh, for example, I always know I’m fighting for truth and justice and the American way, no questions asked. Because a guy can set his moral compass to Josh—he’s
always
one of the good guys, through and through.”

“Thanks, man,” Josh says.

“Just speaking the truth.”

“Well, well, well,” Kat says. She shoots Josh an unmistakable smolder. “It turns out the Playboy’s a good guy, after all—Mickey Mouse roller coasters notwithstanding.”

I lean into Sarah. “Sixteen hours, absolute tops.”

Sarah snickers. “Indubitably,” she whispers.

“So, Henn,” I say, feeling the need to herd cats here. “If The Club lives in the Deep Web, how the fuck do we find them and take them down?” I’m chomping at the bit to fuck these motherfuckers up the ass.

“We need a map,” Henn says. “A precise map that gives us a pinpoint location. Once I have that, I can hack in and do a deep dive.”

I put my hand on Sarah’s bare thigh. I can’t wait to do a deep dive with her later tonight in that Jacuzzi tub.

“How do we find this map?” Sarah asks. She puts her hand on top of mine and squeezes.

“We start with our friend, the pimpstress extraordinaire, Oksana Belenko. Whoever she’s working with on the tech side of things, there’s got to be communications. Or maybe she personally logs into their mainframe. Either way, she’ll lead me right to them, one way or another.”

“What do you need from us?” Sarah asks.

“A personal email address for Oksana—something you know links right to her.”

Sarah shoots me a
mea culpa
look. That’s what I was about to get from Stacy when Sarah interrupted my grand strategy at The Pine Box.

“We don’t have an email address,” Sarah says. “Thanks to me. Miss Bossy Boots.” She smiles sheepishly, making me laugh.

“Well, that’s what we need,” Henn says. “I’ll send Oksana malware that’ll give me access to her computer. Plus I’ll install a good old-fashioned key log, too. But to do that, we need her to open an email.”

“What’s a key log?” I ask.

“It lets me remotely monitor every key she hits on her keyboard. Easy way to get all her passwords.”

I rub my hands together villainously. “Excellent.”

“So you’ll need to do three things.” He looks directly at Sarah. “First, get her email address. Second, obviously, send her an email. And, third, make sure she opens it, preferably in your presence so we don’t leave anything up to chance. Do you think you can do all that?”

“Of course I can,” Sarah says. “They think I’m scamming Jonas. I’ll just find her and say I’ve come to negotiate my split on the scam.”

“No fucking way,” I say, probably much louder than required to make my point.

Sarah opens her mouth, shocked. “Jonas, yes. I’ll meet her and negotiate my cut and then while I’m there I’ll email her something to memorialize the deal. Done-zo.”

“No fucking way,” I say again, this time controlling the volume of my voice. “You’re not gonna meet Oksana or anyone else from The Club all by yourself.”

“Jonas, it’ll be fine—”

“I’m going with you.”

She rolls her eyes. “They think I’m
playing
you, remember? Why on earth would I bring you with me if I’m scamming you?”

“I don’t know. Use that big-ass brain of yours to come up with something they’ll believe.”

She sighs in frustration.

“It’s non-negotiable, Sarah. We’re doing this together or we’re not doing it at all.”

She huffs. “Why would I bring you to meet her? It makes no sense.”

I purse my lips, thinking. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.

The room is silent, everyone apparently pondering the same puzzle.

“They think I’m
playing
you,” Sarah says slowly, like she’s thinking out loud. “Why would I bring you with me?”

“I don’t know, but it’s non-negotiable.”

“I heard you the first time, Lord-God-Master.” She crosses her arms over her chest. After a moment, she picks up her champagne flute and ambles to the floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of the room. The sun has set as we’ve been talking and The Strip’s frenetic neon lights are on dazzling display below us.

“Wow,” Sarah says, staring out at the expanse of lights. “It’s beautiful.”

Everyone in the room gets up to take in the view alongside her, drinks in hand.

I put my arm around Sarah and she leans into me.

“Let’s take a photo, Sarah,” Kat says. The two girls smile for a selfie on Kat’s phone with the iconic lights as their backdrop. “And one of you and Jonas, too,” Kat commands, motioning for us to get together.

Sarah and I cuddle up and Kat takes our picture. It all feels so
normal
. I like it.

Kat looks at our photo. “You two look good together,” she says to me, half-smiling. “
Really
good together.”

My heart leaps. Sarah’s fierce protector just told me she deems me worthy of her best friend?

“Don’t post those pics anywhere, Kat,” Henn warns. “We don’t want the bad guys knowing we’re on their turf.”

“I won’t post them, don’t worry. I just want to remember being here in Vegas with my best friend for her first time.” Kat suddenly wraps Sarah in an emotional hug. “Thank God you’re okay. I was so worried about you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Sarah says, nuzzling into Kat’s blonde hair.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t pulled through.”

“I’m fine. ‘Twas merely a flesh wound, Kitty Kat.”

I watch them, fascinated. Their exchange is so affectionate and effortless and natural—it makes me envious somehow. I want to be the one hugging Sarah and declaring my love so easily and openly to her.

Sarah whips her head up and gasps. “I’ve got it,” she says.

“You’ve got what?” Kat asks.

Sarah disengages from Kat. “We use their greed against them.”

“That’s my girl,” I say. “I knew you’d think of something.”

Sarah leaps over to me and hugs me. “This is gonna work.”

“Of course, it will,” I say. “We’re an unstoppable team.” I kiss her softly.

Henn looks at his watch. “Okay, get your plan figured out and we’ll launch first thing tomorrow. I’m gonna work all night on my malware. I want to make sure whatever we send them is ironclad.” He grabs his laptop, clearly excited to get to work.

Sarah and I exchange a look. There’s a lot at stake here.

“Well,” Kat says, her hands on her hips. “While Henn’s hard at work cooking up a fancy virus, I guess the rest of us will have to find
something
to do in Las Vegas. Hmm.” She taps her index finger on her temple, pretending to think really hard. “What on earth
could we possibly do in
Las Vegas
?”

I look at Sarah, hoping she’s thinking what I am: that she’s not the least bit interested in being part of a foursome tonight. But nope—one look at Sarah and it’s abundantly clear she’s thrilled at the idea of going out.

“You like to gamble, Kat?” Josh asks.

“I love it.”

“What’s your game?”

“Blackjack.”

“Lame,” Josh says.

“Excuse me?”

“The real fun is craps.”

“I’ve never played,” Kat says. “It seems complicated.”

“Nah, it’s easy. I’ll spot you a grand and teach you how to play.”

Kat’s eyes pop out of her head. “I’m not gonna take your money. I’ll just watch you.”

“No, you’ve got to roll the dice for me, Party Girl. You’ve got first-timer’s luck
and
lady-luck on your side, and they only let you roll when you’ve got a bet on the table.”

“Well, then, I’ll bet my own money.”

“Kat,” I interject. “Let my brother pay for your fun. There’s nothing Josh Faraday loves more than throwing his hard-earned money away on mindless entertainment.”

“That’s your idea of helping me, bro?”

I laugh.

“You’d be doing me a favor, Kat. Betting on a first-time roller is the dream of every craps player—it’s as exciting as it gets.” He smiles. “And I love excitement.” Even from here, I can see Josh’s eyes flicker when he says that last word.

Kat grins. “Okay, Playboy. I’m in. You had me at ‘excitement.’ But we’re all going out together, right?” She looks at Sarah for assurance.

“Of course,” Sarah says.

Damn. I was hoping she’d say her dance card was already filled for tonight with the Underwater Rumba. I clear my throat, trying to catch Sarah’s attention. One look at me and she’ll know I’m not up for going out.

But the expression on Sarah’s face melts me. Oh man, she’s so fucking adorable—just bursting at the seams about painting the town red. What am I thinking? Sarah can have sex with me in a goddamned hotel room any time—I’ve got to nut up and show my baby a good time in the Seventh Circle of Hell.

“Where should we take these lovely ladies to dinner?” I ask Josh.

“It just so happens I know the perfect place.”

“Of course you do,” I reply.

“Do you ladies think you can handle a night out with the Faraday brothers?” Josh asks.

Both girls squeal with excitement in reply, and Sarah throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Jonas.”

“You bet,” I say softly, kissing her neck. “I’m gonna show you a good time in hell, baby, just like you deserve.”

“And then we’ll come back here and have an even better time in heaven—in that Jacuzzi tub, just the two of us.”

Oh, how I love this woman.

“Henn, you wanna join us for dinner?” Josh calls to Henn across the room. “Yo, Henn?”

Henn looks up from his computer.

“You wanna join us for dinner, man?”

“Oh, Josh,” Henn says, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you? You can wine and dine me all you like, but you’re never gonna get me into bed.”

Jonas
 

Okay, I admit it. I’m having fun.
In Las Vegas.
The Apocalypse is nigh. I guess I can count on having fun anywhere, anytime, even in hell, as long as Sarah’s by my side. The restaurant Josh selected is superb—Sarah uses the word “ridiculous” at least ten times to describe her food—and the Cirque Du Soleil show we stumble into after dinner, totally on a whim, is spectacular. Every time I look over at Sarah during the show, her face is beaming with an almost childlike joy that makes my heart burst.
So this is what happiness feels like,
I think.

After the show, when the girls gallop off to the bathroom together, I use the opportunity to grill Josh about Henn.

“How well do you know the guy?” I ask. “You sure we can trust him?”

“One hundred percent sure.”

“Sounds like we’re messing with some pretty hairy shit,” I say. “You sure he’s
completely
trustworthy?”

“Jonas, I’m sure. He’s been my guy since college. He’s like a brother to me.”

What the fuck does that mean? Henn’s “like a brother” to him? Why does Josh need a
friend
who’s
like
a brother when he’s got an
actual
brother? And why have I never heard of Henn before now, if they’re so damned close?

“When I first got to school, I kind of took Henn under my wing when he needed it most,” Josh says. “At first, I thought I was the power player in the friendship, but I wound up relying on
him
far more than he ever did on
me
.” He shrugs.

My stomach lurches. I know the exact timeframe he’s referring to: right after Dad killed himself.
The Lunacy.
Josh went off to UCLA for his first year of college while I stayed behind, school deferred for a year, fighting to reclaim my mind from impenetrable darkness.

“I just needed someone to lean on back then,” Josh adds. “And Henn turned out to be that guy.”

“I get it,” I say. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty as hell about it—and, if I’m being honest, jealous that Henn was there for Josh when I couldn’t be. Henn is like a brother to Josh? Well, fuck me. The whole idea of Josh needing to lean on someone besides me surprises me—though it shouldn’t, now that I think about it. Of course, Josh needed support after suddenly finding himself fatherless and brotherless all at once. Of course, he did.

But what about
after
The Lunacy? Did Josh continue to rely on Henn, even then? I guess I just assumed Josh has leaned on me through the years, despite all my weaknesses and flaws and fuckeduppedness, the way I’ve always leaned on him. But I should have known. A guy can’t lean on someone who has broken legs, or they’ll both come crashing down. I look at the ground, emotion threatening to rise up inside me.

“Hey,” Josh says softly. “I’ve leaned on you, too, bro. More than you know. You’re the man.”

I look up at him. Now that I think about it, I can’t remember a single time he’s leaned on me. All I can recall are the countless times he’s rushed to my aid when I’ve needed him so badly.