Heart-Shaped Hack (13 page)

“You’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” she said, smiling back at him.

“Incredibly so.” He opened his menu. “How was your visit home?”

“It was good. I could have done without all the ‘poor Kate’ comments from my assorted relatives. You know, because I’m no longer making the big bucks and Stuart and I broke up. The worst part was they all acted like I got dumped.”

“But you broke up with Stuart.”

“Exactly!” Kate said, pointing at herself. “I broke up with him. Ugh, I sound like I’m in middle school.”

“You should have told them about your new boyfriend.”

She smiled. “Boyfriend?”

He groaned. “Now we’re both in middle school. I need to say something very manly
right now
.”

“Trust me,” she whispered. “You are
the
man. A six-foot-four-inch, gorgeous, strapping man with muscles everywhere and a big you-know-what.”

He winked. “Don’t you forget it, sweetness.”

The waitress brought their coffee. “Are you ready to order?”

“Kate?” Ian said.

“Crème brûlée french toast please.”

“And for you?” she asked, looking at Ian.

“Classic Benedict.”

She gathered their menus. “Coming right up.”

“So the rest of the visit was okay?” Ian said, taking a drink of his coffee.

“Yes. Things seem to be back on track with my dad.”

“Had they been off track?”

“He had a hard time when I stopped practicing law. He began his law career as an attorney. My brother is an attorney. I’m no longer an attorney.”

“What does your dad do now?”

“He’s a justice on Indiana’s Supreme Court. Have I not mentioned that?”

“You have not.”

“Worried?”

“Not at all. Parents always find me especially charming.”

“They’ll be in Minneapolis for Christmas. Knock yourself out. Anyway, for the first time ever, my dad asked how the food pantry was doing. We’d never really talked about it before, so I guess we’re making progress. I felt conflicted when I answered him though. If it wasn’t for you and your donations, the report I gave him would have been dismal.”

“Speaking of that,” Ian said.

“No,” Kate said firmly.

He looked surprised. “You’re not even willing to discuss it? Christmas is coming. What about your clients? What about the
babies
?”

She didn’t want to admit how much she’d already been worrying about Christmas. Kate’s food pantry was teaming up with two other organizations to provide a Christmas Eve dinner that was quite ambitious in scope when it came to the number of people they hoped to feed. Not only that, but Kate wanted to give one unwrapped toy to each child who came through the line. Whether or not they would achieve their goal would depend on the dollar amount they raised and the number of toy donations they were able to bring in.

“I have to do this on my own, Ian. It’s what I set out to do. If I can’t make this work, then I threw away my law career for nothing.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure all nonprofit organizations have their ups and downs. Maybe you can’t help everyone, but you’ve helped a lot of people, and that counts for something.”

“I know it does,” Kate said. “It’s just that once I help them, I feel like I’m letting them down if I can’t keep doing it.”

The waitress brought their meals and they dug in.

“Then let me help you,” he said.

“You’ve already been way too generous. I can’t accept any more.”

“I really haven’t given you that much.”

“You’ve given me three thousand dollars, which is a small fortune considering I can feed eight people for six dollars and twenty-one cents. It isn’t your responsibility to keep the food pantry afloat. I’ll just work harder.”

“Is it because I”—he made air quotes—“
appropriated
the money?”

“That’s part of it, I guess.”

“What if I give you some of my own money? I have plenty.”

Kate shook her head. “I can’t.” Maybe she was being stubborn and ungrateful, but how could she feel like she was accomplishing her goals if Ian swooped in every month with a bag of cash, stolen or otherwise?

“Don’t you think your clients are deserving of the assistance they receive, regardless of where the money comes from?” Ian asked.

“Of course I think they’re deserving.”

“Well, if you won’t take money from me personally, then we’re back to me playing Robin Hood.”

She exhaled, torn between her decision not to accept his help and her desire to see her clients with the things they needed.

“Think of it this way,” he said. “Wouldn’t you rather see your clients benefit from the money instead of the thieves who stole it from people whose Christmases will probably be shitty this year because of it?”

“You make a valid argument.”

He pointed his fork at her. “Exactly.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t struggle with it as much if you told me more about it.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How does it work? When I asked you if there was a difference between hackers and cyberthieves, you said there was. What did you mean by that?”

“There are two kinds of hackers—white hat and black hat. The white hats are hackers who hack for good—like me. We hack into things, but our goal is to figure out how to keep everyone else out. The cyberthieves, or black hats, hack for malice or greed. They’re the ones who introduce the malware that causes harm and launch attacks that cripple websites. They hack into Home Depot and Target, and they help themselves to your credit card information when all you were trying to do was buy a drill or paper towels and laundry detergent.”

“Clearly you don’t know how to shop at Target. There are way cooler things to be found there than paper towels and laundry detergent.”

He laughed. “Duly noted.”

Kate poured more syrup on her french toast. “When I asked you why you didn’t return the money to the people it had been stolen from, you said it wasn’t that easy. Why not?”

“Once the credit card numbers are stolen, they’re bundled and sold to people called carders. The carders then use the numbers to make new cards to buy merchandise that will be returned to the store for a refund or sold, possibly overseas. At that point, there’s no way to recover the merchandise or the cash. Most people—after canceling their cards—will hopefully receive compensation from their credit card company or get the charges reversed. But sometimes it takes a while to get everything sorted out, and for those who need the available credit to get them through to the next payday, or to buy food or put gas in their car, it can cause real hardship.”

“So where do you go to steal the money back?”

“Right into the carders’ bank accounts usually. Some of the more prolific thieves have hundreds of thousands of dollars sitting in them. I don’t take a large enough amount at one time to raise any red flags, but even if they noticed the money was missing, they’re not going to do anything about it—other than be very pissed—because they don’t want to draw attention to their own illegal activities.”

Kate was dumbfounded. “Hundreds of thousands?”

“It’s not uncommon. Even a black hat who only dabbles is likely to have more cash than he could ever hope for.”

Kate was silent for a moment.

“What is it?” he said.

“I’m sorry, I just… I got a visual of you all sitting around in front of your computers wearing little hats.”

“That’s very cute.”

“So what color is your hat when you take the money from black hat hackers? Is it gray?”

“Yes. Gray hat hacking is typically done in the name of goodwill even though it’s often illegal. My hat is gray whenever it suits me.”

“I had no idea this whole culture even existed.”

“People wouldn’t sleep as well at night if they knew what hackers were capable of.”

“Then I guess I’ll sleep extra soundly when the best hacker of them all is in my bed.”

“In case you weren’t already aware, I’ll be in your bed on a regular basis from now on.”

“Lucky me,” Kate said, smiling. “As for the ‘appropriating,’ your arguments are very persuasive. But it still goes against everything I believe in when it comes to the law. We don’t get to mete out vigilante justice no matter how defensible it seems.”

“It’s an ethical quandary for sure, but not one I happen to struggle with. I have no trouble playing Robin Hood. I don’t keep any of the money for myself. I don’t want it, and I certainly don’t need it. I do it because taking the money from thieves and giving it to those who are more deserving makes me feel like I’m playing an active part in offsetting the wrongdoing.”

“I can understand that,” Kate said.

“You know, the babies don’t really understand Christmas. As long as they have enough to eat, they’re in good shape. But the younger kids…”

“Don’t you dare,” Kate said.

“What? Mention that little boy I saw you holding on your lap? The one with the Curious George hat you were feeding chocolate to? And he has, what? Two sisters?”

When Ian said he missed nothing, he really meant it.

“I see that you’ve identified—and are now exploiting—my weakness so that I’ll let you fix it, regardless of what it might cost me in integrity.”

“I’m a hacker, Katie. It’s what I do.”

If Kate let Ian help her, she could feed her clients and give their children some semblance of a real Christmas. Sure, there were more important things than presents, but to a homeless child or one whose family lived far below the poverty line, a hot meal and a toy could make all the difference. “I’m resisting this with every part of my being.”

“Given your education and professional background, I’d be more worried if you didn’t have a problem with it. Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

When Ian took out his credit card to pay, Kate craned her neck in an attempt to read the name on it. Ian handed the card to her.

“Privasa?” she said.

“It’s the name of my company,” Ian said. “Everything I own is registered to it.”

“Very fitting for a man who likes his privacy.” She handed the card back to him. “But you’re going to tell me your last name now, right? After all those things we did?” Kate had always been a good judge of character, and she didn’t get the sense Ian was trying to pull anything over on her. At thirty-two, he’d undoubtedly had more than a few serious relationships, and she was fairly certain that at some point he revealed his last name to the women he dated because no woman in her right mind would be okay with a man withholding that kind of information indefinitely.

“No. I’ve already told you more than I ever thought I would. See? It’s your beauty at work again. And your legs.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And Jesus, your
mouth
. You have so many weapons in your arsenal now.”

As they walked home hand in hand, Ian said, “I feel like taking a nap. And by nap I mean move in and out of your naked body at whatever speed you prefer.”

“And they say men don’t know how to communicate.”

“Well, that’s where they’re
wrong
. I was crystal clear.”

“You’re going to kill me, Ian. And I mean that in the most wonderfully satisfying way.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ian arrived at Kate’s apartment around six. True to his word, he’d been spending a lot of time not only in her bed but with her in general. They’d meet at Kate’s place after work, walk to a nearby restaurant for dinner, and then Ian would stay over. But sometimes they’d order in because rolling around on Kate’s bed as soon as Ian walked in the door sounded a lot more enticing to both of them than venturing out into the cold for something to eat. Ian had followed through on his Thanksgiving Day promise of shopping at Victoria’s Secret while drinking his after-dinner bourbon, and Kate was now the owner of several new push-up bras and matching panties. She’d modeled them for him, and that was one of the nights they definitely hadn’t made it out of her apartment for dinner.

“Hey, sweetness,” Ian said, tossing his keys onto the counter. He was wearing his glasses. “How was your day?”

Kate’s day had sucked. There were so many people utilizing the food pantry that she was barely keeping up with the regular needs of her clients. She had no idea how she was going to pull off the Christmas Eve dinner, not to mention the unwrapped toys. Christmas was a little over two weeks away, and she’d only collected about a third of what she’d hoped to have by then.

“It was long. Yours must have been too. You’re wearing your glasses.”

“My eyes were burning.”

He sat down on the couch, and after he took off his glasses and set them on the coffee table, he pulled her onto his lap and gave her the kind of kiss that made her want to order in.

“Ah, the number six,” Kate said, sighing. “I love that one.”

He looked at her curiously. “What are you talking about?”

“I assigned identification numbers to your kisses.”

“Oh really,” he said, laughing.

“That was the number six. It’s a little different from the number five because not only do you give me a deep openmouthed kiss with tongue, you also hold me on your lap while cradling my face in your hands. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Tell me the rest.”

“The number one is the first kiss you gave me at the end of our first date. And the number two is the second kiss, and so on. Then there’s the six. The number six knocks my socks off.”

“Which one knocks your clothes off?”

“Pretty much all of them.”

“Are there any more?”

“There’s a seven.”

“And?”

She smiled as if she were picturing it in her mind.

“Oh, Katie.” His voice sounded like a purr. “It must be really good.”

“The number seven is when you kiss me when you’re inside me. It feels incredible.”

“Do you know what sounds really good for dinner?” he asked, nibbling her ear.

“A number seven with a side of let’s order in?”

“You’re so quick,” he said, easing her off his lap and pulling her toward the bedroom. “I really like that about you.”

“Don’t you mean devastatingly beautiful?”

“That too.”

Ian ordered Chinese while they were still in bed, and when it arrived they ate dinner in front of a roaring fire.