Free Wicked Solutions by Havan Fellows Page A

the one holding the purse strings, always assume that your best interest is never at the top of the list. I don't give a fuck whether it's an employer, friend, or family. If you aren't making the paycheck appear, your ass ain't covered.
"Rule number two, don't call your ex and ramble on like an idiot. Especially when said ex is me. Hold your tongue until I give you the go ahead."
He tossed the handset to his left, the clanking noise a mild nuisance, and pulled his keyboard back to him. Opening the left drawer of his desk, he reached in over the short divider to the back compartment and wrapped his fingers around a hard square gadget. He pulled it out with the appropriate cords and quickly hooked it up to the socket in his phone and the USB port in his monitor.
A pop up appeared on his screen directing him to a new URL address. He quickly filled out the user name and password and typed in the activation code. Within minutes of setting down the receiver he was guaranteed that the line Brad called him on was clean and clear.
Most of the commonplace cases he worked didn't require this type of technology, and he didn't flaunt what he had out in the open. But when an ex-boyfriend called up with a warble in his voice…well, let's just say that Wick liked to err on safe rather than sorry. Sorry always ended him up in the interrogation room downtown. No matter he was a retired badge, in the cops' eyes he was a rogue.
He retrieved the phone. "Go…"
***
    After getting past the front desk security, which wasn't up to par in any way, Wick stood at an office door marked Brad Morris and rapped his knuckles three times fast. The door opened, an arm shot out and dragged him inside. Before he could protest the rough handling, Brad slammed him up against the wall and assaulted his mouth.
Wick attempted to turn his head, to break the kiss. But Brad cradled his face and forced his tongue into Wick's mouth.
    On the verge of biting down, Wick heard footsteps enter the office. They paused, shuffled some, then gradually faded away.
Brad pulled away from Wick and smiled at him. "Um…hello?"
"You—"
With one hand, Brad covered Wick's mouth, the other hand quickly flicked out and swung the office door closed.
As soon as the click signaled their privacy, Wick quickly shot out his right fist and connected with Brad's midsection.
"Oomph." Brad grabbed his side with both hands and stumbled back to rest his ass on the desk. "Jesus, Wick! Why the fuck did you do that?"
"And your answer to that question?" Wick stood with his feet apart and arms crossed. He never was the biggest kid on the playground, but he oozed authority when he wanted to.
"I'm under suspicion here." Brad gestured to the door. "If I'm having a strange man come to my office, I better have a good reason."
"Tonsil hockey's an acceptable reason at your work?" Wick cut him off with a hand in the air. "Forget it, I know what you mean. Nice to know you still have it, just warn a guy before you use it." He walked around the desk and sat in Brad's chair. "So give me the Reader's Digest version."
Brad followed him to the chair, leaning over him. "Did you have to punch me in the ribs? I can't even catch a deep breath right now."
"No marks. I knew what you were doing, just didn't appreciate it. Wouldn't want to bruise your pretty face and ruin our alibi for the closed door meeting." He studied the set up of Brad's desk, and a diamond of yellow paper caught his attention.
"Seriously, Brad?" Wick pressed his pointer finger down on the slip and slid a Post-It note with its stickiness all worn off out from under the plastic trays located catty cornered on his desk. On the note, written in his ex's messy scribble, were his user names and passwords for all the company programs. Including Lotus Notes, the email program his company utilized.
"What? I can't memorize all those passwords."
"And anyone who knows your habits can get into your email…" He quickly pulled up Brad's business email and typed in the