About That Night (FBI/US Attorney #3)(62)
“Wow. I’m suddenly having one of those moments when I realize that I’ve turned into my father.” Kyle clapped his hands together, moving on. “How about this—before you make any decisions, maybe you’d at least like to know what you’d be doing for Rhodes Network Consulting. If I were to hire you.”
Troy nodded politely, clearly humoring him. “Fine. Hypothetically speaking, what would I be doing for Rhodes Network Consulting?”
“Well, other members of the team, including myself, will be creating secure operating systems for our clients. Obviously, the only way to confirm that those systems are airtight is to have another member of the team test them for vulnerabilities.”
Troy’s expression reflected his surprise. “You want to hire a hacker?”
“I was thinking we’d call the position ‘security analyst,’ but in essence, yes—you would be a professional hacker.”
Seeing the gleam of interest in Troy’s eyes, Kyle continued on. “Professor Sharma says you’re brilliant and ambitious.” He leaned forward in his chair, speaking earnestly. “Nine years ago, I was given the opportunity to learn from the best in the industry. It wasn’t the path I’d seen myself taking at the time, but one I have no regrets about following. Today I’m here, giving you the same chance. Maybe it’s not for you—but speaking from personal experience, you won’t know that until you try.”
Troy spoke cautiously, thinking this through. “And what if it turns out not to be for me?”
Kyle shrugged. “Give me a six-month commitment. If it’s not working out, you can walk away after that. No hard feelings. We both know I can find plenty computer geeks out there who would be thrilled to have this job.” He went in for the kill, knowing exactly the last button to push. “After all, those are my systems you’d be trying to hack into. A chance to beat the Twitter Terrorist at his own game.”
Troy said nothing for a long moment, then his lips curved up in a slight smile. “Can I dress like this at the office?”
“Troy, three months ago I was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and gym shoes without laces. I think it’s safe to say we won’t be putting on too many airs at Rhodes Network Consulting. Just don’t scratch up my keyboards with those spiked bracelets.”
Troy smiled at that. “Deal.”
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Kyle was once again staring at cornfield after cornfield on I-57, heading back to Chicago.
The day had been a success.
He wasn’t ready to throw out his shingle quite yet—he may have been good, but he needed more than two smart guys with computer science degrees and zero practical experience on his team. He still wanted to hire at least one person with several years in the field for a management position—the guy in Seattle he’d made an offer to had turned him down—and an administrative assistant, too. Also, he needed to implement phases one and two of his marketing strategy. He had a comfortable amount of start-up capital and was prepared to get more by selling the penthouse if need be, but that wasn’t going to last forever.
Tonight, however, he simply wanted to enjoy his accomplishments, especially since it had been a long time since he’d felt this excited and pumped up about work. For years he’d thought about striking out on his own, of stepping out of his father’s shadow, and finally that was about to happen.
The sun had just begun to set as Kyle approached the city, the impressive Chicago skyline welcoming him home. He was in a celebratory mood, and thought about dropping by Firelight to knock back a few victory cocktails with Dex. Going as far back as grad school, that had always been his default—hanging out at Dex’s bar—whenever he’d been in the mood to kick back and unwind.
Interesting, then, that his car stayed on Lake Shore Drive and drove past the exit that would have taken him to Firelight.
He had a rough idea where he was going, since Rylann had previously mentioned that she lived in Roscoe Village. At the stoplight at Belmont Avenue, he pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts. The beauty of text messaging, he realized, was in its simplicity. He didn’t have to try to explain things, nor did he have to attempt to parse through all the banter in an attempt to figure out what she might be thinking. Instead, he could keep things short and sweet.
I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU.
He hit send.
To kill time while he waited for her response, he drove in the direction of his sister’s wine shop, figuring he could always drop in and harass Jordan about something.
This time, however, she beat him to the punch.
“So who’s the brunette bombshell?” Jordan asked as soon as he walked into the shop and took a seat at the main bar.
Damn. He’d forgotten about the stupid Scene and Heard column. Kyle helped himself to a cracker and some Brie cheese sitting on the bar. “I’m going to say…Angelina Jolie. Actually, no—Megan Fox.”
“Megan Fox is, like, twenty-five.”
“And this is a problem why, exactly?”
Jordan slapped his hand as he reached for more crackers. “Those are for customers.” She put her hand on her hip. “You know, after reading the Scene and Heard column, I’d kind of hoped it was Rylann they were talking about. And that maybe, just maybe, my ne’er-do-well twin had decided to stop playing around and finally pursue a woman of quality.”